Mail Order Bride – Charlotte's Summer: Clean Sweet Western Cowboy Romance (Seasons Mail Order Brides Book 1) (3 page)

“
G
oodness me
!”

Mrs. Fredrick shrieked, taken aback by the sudden pounding at her front door. She stepped outside onto the porch, wearing on her head one of the most fanciful bonnets a bright Tuesday morning had ever been so privileged to see.

She was met with two breathless, panting bodies, hunched over at the waist. Both girls gasped for air. They had raced to the end of the street, rounded the corner and then hurried across the busy road without giving the mercantile a second thought. In fact, Beth had barged through the front gate with such force that it near broke straight off its hinges, before it swung back again and hit Charlotte square in the shins.

“We’re sorry Mrs. Frederick, it’s just that…” began Charlotte, rubbing her leg.

But Beth soon grew impatient and – once she’d caught her breath again – proceeded to explain in explicit detail everything about the sad predicament Charlotte had found herself in. She was in such a hurry to get everything out all at once that she threw her arms up in the air for dramatic effect and the letters slipped from her hands and ended up spread out across the wide, wooden veranda they were all standing on.

Mrs. Fredrick quickly collected up the mess and escorted the girls into the sitting room at the front of the house, realizing that something terrible could happen if she didn’t get to the bottom of it immediately. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and then returned with three glasses of grape cider. She took a quick sip while she gathered her thoughts. If it was the way she believed it to be, then time was running out and they would have to move quickly. “Why Charlotte, Mr. Graynger must be twice your age?”

“No Ma’am, closer to three times if I’m not mistaken.”

Her face filled with nothing but sympathy and she shook her head. “I never did trust that shifty old fool, he’s as crooked as a ram’s horn if you ask my opinion.”

“Can you help us, Mrs. Fredrick?” Charlotte’s voice was caught in the back of her throat and it came out a little shaky, even to her own ears. “I can’t marry Mr. Graynger. Please find a way to help me.”

“Let’s make a start on these letters immediately and try to find you a good and decent husband. As long as my feet are planted on this earth there’s no chance a pretty little thing like you will end up with the horror that is Clem Graynger. I’ve heard all sorts of nasty things about the man and I wouldn’t put it past him to be in cahoots with the devil himself. It might be unorthodox, pursuing a marriage by correspondence and all, but it’s nothing to be sneered at. The sooner you leave Seattle, the better. That way he won’t have a claim on you. Your birthday is just a few weeks away, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Mrs. Fredrick rifled through the letters then, dividing them up into even piles for each of the girls to read through. She rubbed her hands together as they set about tearing open the envelopes. Never had she expected such an enthusiastic response to her classified. The few extra dollars she’d earn for her time and effort in connecting grooms with their prospective brides was sure to buy her that set of expensive new curtains she’d had her eye on. She could just picture them now, fluttering softly in the warm breeze above her kitchen sink and she couldn’t be happier. And when Mrs. Fredrick was happy, so was everybody else.

Charlotte could feel she was one step closer to freedom with every letter she read and although the thought of marrying a man she knew nothing about terrified her, she was ready to risk it all if it meant escaping Saint Anne’s.

She was afraid though.

It was a risky move by anyone’s standards. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a handful of her father’s wise words right now. Charlotte smiled softly to herself then as she rifled through the mail. She knew what he’d say. She could practically hear his deep voice whispering in her ears.

Don
’
t be afraid to go out on a limb, that
’
s where the fruit is.

After a good thirty minutes, Charlotte and Beth had finally narrowed it down to three prospective grooms. The first, Beth’s favorite, was a logger from Salem, Oregon. Peter Jolsen needed a wife to run his home while he was away for long stretches at a time transporting lumber from the forest to the timber mills.

But there were some negatives. His penmanship was wishy-washy and he waffled on with useless information about the strength of his horses and a long-winded tale of a disastrous rabbit casserole.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Beth?”

Beth shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll see to that pesky gate while you continue your appraisal?”

Charlotte sighed. Beth was clearly not as picky as Charlotte. She smiled as her best friend left her to her ruminations.

The second prospect’s letter was from William Carter, a gold-miner from some place far up in the hills that Charlotte had never heard of before. But he wrote with so much passion for his profession that Charlotte feared there would be no place left in his heart for her. On paper he seemed perfectly nice and would undoubtedly make someone a fine husband one day. But it wasn’t going to be Charlotte.

The third gentleman went by the name of Thomas Ackerman.

He had never been married, had no children and worked a large property just south of Conrad, Montana. He described himself as twenty-three years old, tall, fair, healthy and looking for a wife to help him care for the house and tend to the animals. He lived alone on the property, but it wasn’t so far out of town that he ever felt isolated.

His handwriting was neat and tidy, and Charlotte deemed him to be an educated man by the capable way he spoke. She read the entire letter through once more. It finished off simply…

Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how straight to the point Thomas was and how he never once mentioned the fact that he was looking for love. He seemed like a man who didn’t care to mince words and knew what he wanted. In a way, she found it an attractive quality in a prospective groom, though she was a little overwhelmed at how fast everything was moving. A hundred different questions flashed through her mind.

Would he be handsome? Would she have a stately home? Would he grow to love her?

Charlotte had never had a place to call her very own before and she reflected on just how much she might enjoy keeping a house like her mother once had. She suddenly paused, silently scolding herself for being so superficial. It shouldn’t matter what Thomas looked like or the style of his property – as long as he was a kind, gentle man who took pride in being a provider and a protector and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Besides, the alternatives were beyond anything imaginable, so she knew she had little choice than to go along with whatever Mrs. Fredrick thought best. She wasn’t about to argue. From out of nowhere she’d been thrown a buoy, and she wasn’t about to let herself sink to the bottom of the lake without at least kicking her feet a little first.

Charlotte scribbled out a letter in reply and informed Thomas of her name, her age and that she lived in Seattle, Washington. She told him of her love of baking pies and that pink was her absolute favorite color. She added how much it reminded her of everything that’s wonderful in the world, like the sky just before the dawn or the beginnings of a showery rainbow.

She described herself as slim in build, with waist-length brown hair, blue eyes and a smattering of freckles over her cheeks. She had no hideous scars to mention and she wasn’t buck-toothed, so she figured that was enough information for the time being and finished her letter off with a straightforward…

Mrs. Fredrick smiled at Charlotte, gesturing toward the front door as she tucked the letter into an envelope. “I’ll send this back first thing in the morning. Run along now or Mr. Graynger might become suspicious. We can’t risk him getting wind of this while we wait for a reply. Check in with Bert as often as you can and if Mister Ackerman wishes, we’ll have you on that train to Montana before you’ve worked out which way’s up. I’m so happy for you, Charlotte. So very pleased indeed.”

Charlotte grabbed Beth, and the two girls headed down the road.

The mercantile was in high demand, but with the girls’ hurried pace and a newfound enthusiasm for life, they somehow managed to gather up their supplies in record time and make it back to the orphanage with just a few minutes to spare.

Mistress Belle watched them with her usual sharp eye as they fumbled around the kitchen, grinning and whispering like they were prone to doing from time to time.

But this time was different.

She knew they were up to something and she was determined to get to the bottom of it before the school bell rang. As the eyes and ears of the orphanage, she ran a tight ship, regardless of what anyone else said. Her despisal of Mr. Graynger ran deep though and his constant scrutiny made her life unbearable at times – but it was nothing compared to what her precious Charlotte had had to endure. The way he looked at that girl curled her toes right up inside her shoes.

Truly, discretion wasn’t high on Mr. Graynger’s agenda. He made no secret of his intentions and Mistress Belle been an unfortunate witness to his lewd advances on Charlotte more than once over the years. But what was she to do?

If times weren’t so tough she might have braved herself to broach the subject with Mr. Graynger himself. But money was tight and she needed the job. With no husband to call her own – the likelihood of obtaining one grew slimmer with each passing year – the orphanage had become a source of income and accommodation for her. Pointing out Mr. Graynger’s improprieties would also be fatal to her funding. As it was, the children only had fresh vegetables once a week and meat once a month. She couldn’t risk him cutting her budget any further and making them all suffer as a consequence.

“You two have grins on your faces like a pair of cats lapping cream. What’s put you both in such a whimsical mood?” Mistress Belle folded her arms over her ample chest and tapped her foot once or twice against the floorboards. “Well … I’m waiting?”

Charlotte finally glanced over at her and blinked a couple of times. The way Mistress Belle’s waist gave way to her plump curves and the roundness of her full cheeks made Charlotte’s heart grow sad. She fought the urge to throw her arms around the woman and never let go. She would miss her terribly once she was gone.

Charlotte decided right there and then that she could never sneak away under the cover of darkness and not say good-bye to the one person who had always been so kind to her. So she took a deep breath, deeper than she’d ever taken before, and explained everything … right from the very beginning.

J
unior kicked
his foot against a mound of dirt, sending sprays of earth flying off in different directions. “Aw … please Pa? Can’t I go play with Solomon just a short while? The sun don’t set for another good hour so there’s plenty of time before supper.”

“I said … NO!” scolded Earl Mason.

“But why, Pa?”

Junior snapped a carrot in half between his teeth and chewed on it so loud that the cicadas stopped singing for a split second over by the field. For a boy his size, it never ceased to amaze his father just how many carrots he could devour in one day. They were just about his favorite thing in the whole, wide world. Earl was glad for the fact that they grew in abundance in the garden or he would likely be sent broke trying to satisfy the child’s appetite. Money was stretched as it was and carrots certainly weren’t high on his list of priorities.

He finally glanced up from the tree stump he was in the process of hollowing out. “Does the sweat on my brow mean anything to you? I said
no
and I mean
no
. I’m not wasting my time explaining myself. What do you think I’m doin’ here, boy?”

“You makin’ one of them fancy new horse goblets, Sir?” said Junior, chomping away.

“A trough, boy! It’s called a trough!” Earl shook his head and went back to using his axe to carve out the middle a little more on one side. “What are they teachin’ ya down at that school? You make up words like you’re a dimwit or somethin’ and I know that ain’t the truth. Your Ma was too intelligent for anyone to accuse her boy of such a thing.”

Junior stared, blankly. “So … uh, does that mean I can go to the Lawsons’ or not, Pa?”

As far as Earl could tell Doc Lawson was a right honorable man and he had no problem with their sons being friends and all, but he didn’t want Junior making a pest of himself. Doc Lawson had enough on his plate, what with raising six children and keeping the ailments of all the Conrad residents in tight check.

From what he’d heard – mostly from Mabel Clay when she’d cornered him that one time – the Doc’s family had picked up and moved all the way from Chicago after Mrs. Lawson died in childbirth. The couple’s youngest daughter, Sophie, never once got to meet her mother. By Earl’s way of thinking, that was the saddest part of all. He’d never forget the look on his wife’s face the first time she held Junior in her arms, so he had nothing but respect for the poor man. Earl knew only too well that grief was a crippling disease and unfortunately no doctor of medicine, no matter how much smarts he had, would ever find a cure for it.

“I’m sorry Junior, but I just don’t have the time to take you over there right now, and before you gettin’ any bright ideas … no, you can’t walk over there by yourself. You’re too young and those prairie rattle snakes are breeding like rabbits this time of year. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, perhaps? Deal?”

Junior sighed. “Deal.”

“That a boy. Now go make yourself useful and saddle up Lightning for me. We might take a ride over to Mr. Ackerman’s later this evening to visit Rosy. I reckon Snog’s mighty lonely here without her, so the least we can do is give him a report. There’s nothing much worse than missing someone so bad it feels like a part of ya heart’s been torn out.”

Junior might not have been the brightest boy in his class, but he wasn’t the dumbest either, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that look on his Pa’s face meant. It meant he was sad and didn’t want to be bothered again for a while. His eyes would turn down in a particular way and his chin would set to quivering like he was about to say something life-altering … but then he’d change his mind all of a sudden and keep his thoughts to himself instead. Junior wandered off toward the stables, kicking more dirt on the way, but he didn’t mention the Lawsons again for the rest of the afternoon.