Page 1 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes (Montana Mail-Order Brides #7)

Chapter One

C lackety-clack. Clackety-clack. By now she should be so used to the sound of the train traveling along the rails that she no longer heard it, but today the noise was loud and intrusive.

As her destination drew closer, Brynlee Faraday’s nerves twitched like dancing fireflies.

“Crow Crossing.” The conductor’s call put a halt to Brynlee’s fussing.

She took a moment to look outside. A small town much like many she’d seen on the trip across America.

She couldn’t see the mountains from her window, but they'd been growing steadily closer and larger as she continued westward. Majestic in all their glory.

Three-year-old Susie dozed on the seat beside Brynlee, her blonde hair tangled about her face despite the fact Brynlee had recently combed it and tied it with a bright blue ribbon. She shook the child gently. “We’re here.”

Blue eyes widened as Susie wakened. The little one jerked upright. “We go home now?”

“A new home, sweetie.” She’d explained it many times, but Susie clung to the hope they would arrive back with her mother.

An ache as big and sharp as the mountains clawed at Brynlee’s insides.

Although she and Rowena had not been raised together and she was eight years older than her half-sister, they had grown close after Susie’s birth.

Her passing had ripped away yet another person Brynlee loved.

Please dear Father in heaven, let this move fulfill my heart’s desire.

And if she didn’t have the confidence to put that hope into words, she knew God could read her heart.

Brynlee gathered together their belongings— a valise containing a few items of clothing, Susie’s favorite blanket, and the doll Rowena had made. Must remember not to say that name.

“Hold my hand, sweetie.” Susie had a habit of running ahead, guided by curiosity and enjoyment of life.

Would that she never lost the latter and learned to temper the former.

“That man is gonna get us and take us to his house. Our new home. Isn’t that right, Auntie Bryn?”

“That’s the plan.” She managed to hold Susie’s hand even when the little one tugged in her eagerness to leave the train and start their new life. For the child, the future beckoned with open arms.

Brynlee was less convinced, though when she’d gone to Mrs. Strong to arrange to become a mail-order bride and had seen the name Flint March, she’d taken it to be God’s direction.

“Mama be there?”

“No, dear. But there’ll be lots of exciting things. Horses, cows, chickens, and so much more.” Her trunk sat on the luggage cart.

She and Susie stood on the wooden platform. Several people hurried away. A horse was led from the box car. But no one approached offering her a home and marriage.

The sun shone overhead bright and welcoming. At least that part of Crow Crossing was kind. The train puffed out clouds of steam.

The conductor called out, “All aboard.”

Still, no one came in their direction. Her heart weighed like a rock.

Had she made a colossal mistake?

It was Brynlee’s sister who, when she lay dying, suggested she become a mail-order bride. “There are good people out west,” Rowena had said. “Good men.”

Brynlee guessed she referred to the man she’d met when she went to visit her aunt in Montana a few years ago before her marriage to Manfred.

Flint March. So many times Brynlee had wanted to ask why, if this Flint March was such a good man, Rowena had turned down his offer of marriage and returned to marry someone who had proven to not be a good man.

Rowena had insisted that her husband sign a letter giving Brynlee custody of their daughter, three-year-old Susan. Not that he protested. “I want nothing more to do with her,” were his words.

“Take Susie and start over with my blessing.” Rowena's words provided the impetus for Bryn's decision.

An arranged marriage seemed her only option.

There was nothing holding her in Ohio. Her grandparents who had provided her the only home she knew, were both gone to their heavenly reward.

Their house had been sold. At twenty-eight, Brynlee was considered past marriageable age and attracted no suitors in her present location.

Rowena had continued, “Teach her to be as strong and self-assured as you are.”

Brynlee gulped as she looked across the now vacant platform. She didn’t feel at all strong or self-reliant at the moment.

But she had learned to get on with life.

There was nothing for her to do but go inside and inquire after Flint March.

Her footsteps echoed on the wooden planks. A breeze carried scents of horseflesh and smoke to her. Familiar aromas did nothing to still her jittering heart.

Susie hung back, tugging on her arm. “We go home now?”

“Soon. I promise.” Though whether to the home she’d counted on or something else entirely remained to be seen.

The dreams she’d built of a loving place to live, of acceptance for both herself and Susie, fluttered in the wind.

Questions she’d struggled with since making this decision returned to her mind.

Would Flint welcome her and Rowena’s daughter?

Or would he be angry that Rowena had chosen another?

Would he resent the child? Would Brynlee be judged— accepted or rejected— because of her relationship to Rowena?

At that point, she’d made a decision to not reveal her connection to Rowena.

There was no need for him to know. She’d long ago taken the surname of her maternal grandparents, so it was easy to use the same for Susie. Susan Faraday.

The door to the waiting room stood ajar and she stepped into the grayness of the space. The street-side door opened. The bright square of light left her momentarily blinded.

“Mornin’, Arnold. Any passengers get off today?”

“Morning, Flint. Two men, a young woman, and a child.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction.

Brynlee barely heard the answer. Flint? This was the man she’d come to marry?

The door closed behind him, and she brought him into focus.

The first thing she noticed was his unmarred brown cowboy hat— had he bought it in honor of their plans?

He tipped it back as he turned toward her.

The sun caught his face revealing pale eyes.

Gray or washed-out blue. He’d given his age as between twenty-eight and thirty.

She hoped it was toward the latter, so she wasn’t older than he.

Many would be saying she was an old maid willing to marry anyone who offered.

But not anyone. This was a man recommended by her sister.

He crossed toward them, his gait rolling. She’d heard it described as a cowboy’s gait.

“Miss Faraday?” A deep voice.

That reassured her to a degree. Both her father and Manfred had weak voices that shivered up and down her spine when they talked. Or more correctly, when they spoke to her. Or worse, when they spoke about her as if she wasn’t in the room.

“Yes.” She started to curtsy and then offered her hand instead, meeting his look directly.

“Flint March, at yer service. Pleased ta meet ya.” His gaze was direct and open before he slowly left off studying her to turn to Susie.

She drew in a breath that she hoped would steady her trembling nerves. It failed to help in any way.

“And this would be the child ya wrote about?” His interest seemed kind enough.

“Susan Faraday. Goes by Susie.” As Susie’s legal guardian, Bryn had decided it was easier to share her last name with the child. It was the surname of her maternal grandparents who had mostly raised her.

“Please ta meet ya, young Susie.” He offered her his hand, but she shrank behind Brynlee.

“She’s a mite shy.” Mostly around men. Would he find that objectionable? Like Manfred had. The child should stand up like… Everyone knew he meant like a man. Show a little confidence. Manfred would then pontificate about how boys were superior to girls in every way.

His remarks always made Brynlee want to argue, to defend females, but she’d learned long ago that men such as Manfred and her father talked about how women were inferior and weak, but should one stand up to them, they erupted into a righteous rage.

“Understandable.” Flint reached for the valise. “Ya have other things?”

“My trunk.” She pointed to it and followed him outside.

With a wave of his hand, he signaled the baggage attendant to help him carry it to the wagon that stood at street level. It was loaded and the three of them stood by awkward and uncertain.

“Let’s move along.” He lifted Susie to the seat before she could protest. Pink color flooded the child’s cheeks. She’d been surprised but also pleased by his help.

He offered Brynlee a hand to assist her to the wagon.

Hopefully, he didn’t notice her hesitation.

Nor how she scurried to arrange her skirts once she reached the bench.

She couldn’t find enough saliva in her mouth to swallow.

His touch had been strange, but not entirely unsettling.

A strong hand. Work hardened, yet gentle.

The wagon dipped as he got up beside her, Susie between them. Brynlee wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders. Not so much to keep the little one safe, but because Susie was the only thing familiar.

They drove down the street, passing several businesses and the livery barn. To the right rose the steeple of a church, but he did not turn in that direction.

“Where are you taking us?” She managed to keep her words calm when inside fear sucked her hollow. What had she gotten herself into? And not just her. She had a little girl to protect.

The white church spire had shown signs of weathering. Yet it promised safety and sanctuary could be found beneath it. Could she hope to escape to its shelter?