Page 3 of Leftover Mail-Order Bride (Frontier Brides #2)

T he last time Victoria had attended church had been before Phyllis’s funeral. Victoria had left Albany soon after and had been traveling until recently. Now she closed her eyes and listened to the words the minister read.

“‘In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust: let me never be put to confusion. Deliver me in Thy righteousness and cause me to escape. Incline Thine ear unto me and save me. Be Thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort. Thou hast given commandment to save me, for Thou art my rock and my fortress.’”

She drew in a deep breath. That’s what she needed to remember. When she was confused, when she was concerned, she had Someone waiting to save her.

She opened her eyes as Mr. Dalrymple continued with the service. Ahead of them, Mr. Goodenough glanced one way and the other, as if making sure at least some of the people were paying attention to him. Why the posturing? Did he think that highly of himself? Or did he feel the need to bolster a flagging consequence?

Beside her, Jack nodded slowly, as if agreeing with the minister’s assertion that God could see them through any difficulty. How refreshing. A gentleman who wasn’t here just for show. She settled back to listen, hope tiptoeing closer.

***

Miss Milford continued to impress. She had a way of tilting her head, one curl teasing her cheek, as she listened to the minister, as if considering every word. She was refined, polite, and polished as she greeted the others who came up to them after service. You didn’t find that in a frontier parlor every day.

“You don’t mind if I steal her away for a moment?” Mrs. Dalrymple asked Jack as she trotted up to them. Before he could respond, she latched onto Victoria’s arm and dragged her across the room. Victoria glanced back at him and gave a regretful shrug.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle.

“Pretty little thing,” Mr. Abercromby said, wandering up to Jack’s side. A grizzle-haired farmer, he had the land closest to the Jumping J. “Too bad about her husband.”

Jack started. “She’s a widow?” He stared at the pretty rose-colored gown with its velvet jacket. Why wasn’t she wearing black? Or had she married and lost him so young?

“A widow in a matter of speaking.” The older man leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I heard she came West to be a mail-order bride to some fellow in Olympia. He turned tail at the last minute and found a local gal more to his liking.”

Then she was well off without him, if that was the level of his intelligence and faithfulness. Jack couldn’t imagine anyone else in the area matching Victoria Milford for beauty, poise, or composure. But maybe, like him, the other man had decided he needed a bride more suited to the frontier.

“Seems Goodenough’s set his sights on her,” Mr. Abercromby said, nodding across the room to where Mrs. Dalrymple had ushered Victoria into the man’s company. “Never figured him to be willing to accept someone else’s leftovers.”

Anger lit a fire inside. “I’d hardly call Miss Milford a leftover. If there’s a fault in the situation, it doesn’t lie with her. Excuse me.”

Jack stalked across the room. Some of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, for his neighbors were quick to step aside, eyes widening.

“Miss Milford,” he said, interrupting what the sawmill bookkeeper was saying, “I was wondering if you’d care to ride out to the Jumping J this afternoon with me.”

Her lashes fluttered, and something inside him hitched. “Why, that sounds lovely, Mr. Willets. I do so enjoy riding.”

She did? Well, that was to her favor.

Mrs. Dalrymple’s little mouth was puckering. “It might be just the thing another day. I was hoping Mr. Goodenough could join us for dinner.”

“Happy to oblige, dear lady,” Goodenough assured her, shoving his way a little closer. He put his hand on Victoria’s back, and she stiffened.

“I don’t think it’s very far,” she said, stepping away from him. “I’m sure we’ll be back in plenty of time.” She turned to Jack with a brilliant smile that made him forget why he was even in the parlor to begin with. “If you’d meet me at the parsonage, Mr. Willets, I’ll change into my riding habit.”

He was vaguely aware of Mrs. Dalrymple huffing and Mr. Goodenough grumbling, but he nodded to Victoria, then went to tell his family.

His mother was watching the door as Victoria exited. “A new friend?” she asked, brows up. Not one of his siblings had inherited her brown hair, but more than one had her warm brown eyes and welcoming smile.

His two youngest brothers, standing next to her, elbowed each other.

“A new sweetheart ,” Jason, the second to the youngest at fifteen, teased.

It wasn’t as if Jack had an old sweetheart running around somewhere. Single ladies in this neck of the woods were few and far between.

He focused on his mother though heat was climbing up his face. “I’m going riding with Miss Milford. I thought I’d bring her by the ranch.”

A chorus of oohs and ahs rose from among his four sisters.

Ma beamed at him. “I’d like that very much. I’ll have lemonade and cookies waiting.”

“Should I have the parson waiting?” his closest brother, Jeremy, teased. He had just married his mail-order bride, Caroline, who smiled at Jack in obvious approval from Jeremy’s side.

“Not just yet,” Jack said. “But holding back the others so she doesn’t get overwhelmed wouldn’t hurt.”

“We’ll do whatever you need,” Caroline promised with a look to Jeremy. Caroline was like that—always willing to lend a hand.

Jack nodded his thanks, but he did not like the amusement in his brother’s green eyes.

He’d brought his own horse to services, so he rode Af over to the parsonage a short time later. Victoria was out in front, already up in the saddle. Her black skirts swept the flanks of a dun mare with black stockings, and jet buttons sparkled down the front of her tailored bodice. So that was a riding habit. He could see why a lady would favor them if they showed off her figure to such an advantage. With that black velvet hat edged in a net veil on her auburn hair, she looked mighty fetching.

His sisters would all want one the moment they laid eyes on the outfit.

“Perfect timing,” she said with an easy smile. “I was about to take Myra here along the road to see how she fares. Mr. Dalrymple gave me leave to ride her, but I haven’t had a chance until now.”

“You saddle her yourself?” Jack asked. As far as he knew, the Dalrymples didn’t have a hired hand, so he couldn’t see how she might have saddled the horse otherwise.

Her smile stiffened. “Yes, I did. Should I have waited for you?”

“No, ma’am,” Jack assured her. “I’m just impressed. Not many ladies from the East seem to know how to take care of their horses.”

“Have you met all that many ladies from the East?” she asked, urging the horse forward.

Jack brought Af alongside, the skewbald gelding long used to dealing with other horses. “One or two. I don’t think Mrs. Dalrymple could saddle her own horse.”

“Doubtful,” Victoria agreed. “But then, I take it she doesn’t ride for pleasure.”

Pleasure, she said, as if she relished her time in the saddle as much as he did. Sitting up high, gazing across the land, he could only feel a satisfaction, a pride. And when he and Af raced, well, that was pure power.

“You rode for pleasure, then?” he asked as they set off across the fields. Clumps of gray clouds hovered on the horizon, hiding any sight of Rainier, and he could smell rain in the cool air.

“As often as I could,” she said. “My parents always had a riding horse or two, but once my father had his accident, there wasn’t much time for anyone to ride.” She sent him a sad smile that tugged on his heart like a rope on a steer. “He arranged and received shipments from the boats that travel the canal between Lake Erie and the Hudson. He was down at the river when a shipment in heavy casks broke free and rolled over him. He never walked again.”

Small wonder Mrs. Dalrymple had said that Victoria had faced heartache. “What a blow to your family to have life upended like that.”

“It was hard,” she admitted with her usual composure, keeping her gaze on the fields stretching out before them. “My mother and I did what we could, but he just wasted away. And then not long after he’d gone, my mother contracted scarlet fever, and I lost her too.”

He’d heard the bright red rash, fever, and sore throat could prove fatal. “I’m not sure what I’d do if I lost both Ma and Pa. Did other family take you in, then?”

Something crossed her face, like a chill wind bending the grasses. “My cousin, Phyllis. Mostly because she was already sickly, and she knew I could help. Between my father’s accident and my mother’s illness, I’d learned a great deal about nursing. And when it was clear Phyllis wouldn’t be with us much longer, I knew I must look for alternatives.”

And here was his opportunity to ask her about the story Mr. Abercromby had told him.

“Alternatives like marrying,” he said, and she nodded.

“I agreed to become a mail-order bride, but my groom changed his mind while I was en route.” Again she sent him a glance, as if wondering how he’d take this revelation. “Apparently, he already had a young lady he wanted to marry, but she was being courted by others. Hearing that she might have lost him made her jealous enough to accept his suit.”

“Idiot,” Jack said. “He had no business promising himself when his heart belonged elsewhere.”

Her smile lifted. “My sentiments exactly. Unfortunately, his defection means I must either find a position or seek another groom. I’m not sure why Mrs. Dalrymple thought of Mr. Goodenough. After meeting him today, I don’t think we’ll ever suit.”

He wasn’t sure why he was grinning like a fool. “Shame.”

Her lashes fluttered. “Terrible shame.” Then she giggled, and the sound went straight to his heart.

Ahead, the ranch was coming into view, the twin barns rising to obscure the house behind them. In the fields alongside, the Red Ruby cattle ambled about as they grazed. Another horse and rider were trotting out to meet them: Jeremy and his dapple-gray, Quicksilver.

Jack must have made a face, for Victoria frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, although he wasn’t sure why his brother thought they needed an escort, especially since Jack had asked him to keep the others back.

Jeremy pulled up in front of them and tipped his low-crowned hat. “Miss Milford. I’m Jeremy Willets. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Jumping J.”

“Thank you, Mr. Willets,” she said.

Jeremy laughed. His easy-going brother generally adapted to any situation. Jack was always the one who analyzed overly much.

“Oh, you can dispense with the Mister and Miss Willets,” his brother assured her. “We don’t stand on ceremony. And there are a lot of us. I’m sure my brother would be pleased if you called him Jack.”

“Jeremy…” he started in warning.

“No,” Jeremy said with a wink. “Jack. I’m sure I was clear.”

“What a very sensible suggestion, Jeremy,” Victoria said. “I’d be happy to use your brother’s first name. Perhaps you can all call me Victoria.”

“That’s real nice of you, Victoria,” Jack managed, though he scowled at his brother.

Jeremy ignored him as he often did. “I like the way you ride, Victoria. Can you make that horse run?”

“Only one way to find out,” she said, and she urged the mare forward.

Jack started as they shot past him, and Jeremy had to pull Quicksilver aside.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Jack shouted. “She’s never ridden that horse before! She could be thrown!” Chest tightening, heart pounding, he drove his heels into Af’s flank and tore after her.