The Independent Bride: Mail Order Bride (Boulder Brides Book 2) Read online

  “You have a beautiful sadness,” he told her. He walked around, facing her then leaned forward and very lightly kissed her on the forehead before walking out the door, into the echoing howls of the evening. Hannah touched the spot on her head where he had kissed her. She closed her eyes wishing now that he had not left. She was lonelier than ever.

  A few days after her last talk with Lester, Hannah heard a frantic knock at her door. When she opened it, Lizbeth flew in, her hair disheveled, her eyes streaming with tears. Her face, neck, and arms were covered with bruises.

  “Child! What has happened to you? I knew I should not have let you go out on your own and take up with that brute!”

  “He’s not a brute. Ezra didn’t do this to me. It was the worst of men. Hannah!” Her voice was reaching a hysterical pitch. “My daddy killed Trader Cole. He did it! He murdered him in cold blood. They were all there. They saw it. And they tried to murder Ezra as well.”

  “Who tried to murder Ezra?”

  “Daddy’s friends. They wanted to string him up, and when Lester tried to stop them, they were going to string him up too. The dirtbags saved us. Hannah, it was so terrible.”

  “Slow down. Tell me what happened. I’m confused with all of this.”

  Little by little, she put together Lizbeth’s story. Ezra Cole and Lizbeth had planned to marry as soon as she turned eighteen. When the magic date arrived, they went to the trading post to make the announcement. “Trader Cole was pleased,” she told Hannah. “And so were the people standing around. They cheered, and Trader Cole passed around drinks. But then the word got out to some miners who talked to my daddy. He came by to see if it was true. They got into an argument, and he shot Trader Cole dead.

  After he shot him, I couldn’t stop screaming. I screamed while Daddy grabbed my hair and dragged me out into the streets. I screamed ‘No!’ while he told the gathering crowd that Ezra Cole had shot his own father.”

  “Lester was right in the middle of it,” said Lizbeth. “He threw in some pretty good punches. But there were too many of them, and he was overwhelmed by the mob who kept beating him down and beating anyone who tried to help. I thought it was all over. They were bringing out the ropes. They were going to string us up; me and Ezra and maybe Lester. But then something happened. The dirtbags came. They came and dared anybody to touch me or Ezra or Lester, because we’re dirtbags, too. Even the settlers backed off.”

  “Ezra and Lester - how are they?”

  “Ezra has a broken arm, but Mrs. Haldeman set it.”

  “And Lester?”

  “He has a couple of broken ribs. Mrs. Haldeman taped them up. He received a crack on his head as well, but Mrs. Haldeman says his head is too thick to get injured very easily.”

  “That is very true.” Despite all her efforts, her voice was shaky. “Where is he?”

  “He’s back at the construction site.”

  “Already? How long has it been since this happened?”

  “It happened this morning. Ezra is still laid up, but Lester went back to work already. Mrs. Haldeman didn’t approve. She said his ribs needed to heal before he went back to work, but Lester doesn’t much listen to anyone.”

  “That man doesn’t know when to stop,” muttered Hannah. She put on her hat and irritably wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, aware she was not perfectly dressed for public. “This is what I’ve been saying about him all along. He is reckless. He is pig-headed. He is completely unreasonable.”

  She jabbed and snapped her hair into position, smoothed down the front of her dress and took up her handbag. “He is incorrigible. He is childish.” She slammed out the door, still muttering.

  He was at the same building where she had first found him, although the construction job was nearly complete. He was fitting a board into place for the steps. He moved cautiously, easing his back against the wall while he swung his hammer.

  “You are such a glutton for punishment. You couldn’t wait a few more days before going back to work, could you? I hope your ribcage sticks you in the heart.”

  He looked up with that mild expression that seemed to find all things humorous. “That’s not a very nice thing to wish on anyone. I would have brought you back a piece of the wedding cake, but it all got eaten. You should have come.”

  “I should have come? I should have taken part in a shootout. Just look at you! You’ve been fighting! You could have been killed.”

  “Angels saved me.”

  “Lizbeth told me all about it. The dirtbags saved you. You won’t always be that lucky. What is to be done now? Who is managing the trading post?”

  “The Haldeman’s are taking Lizbeth’s pa to Denver to answer for his crimes. I suppose they’ll want me to appear as a witness. I guess one thing you can say about a mob hanging is that it’s quick and efficient.”

  “And you almost became one of their victims. You, Lizbeth, Ezra. Was it worth it?”

  “Did you ever see that man Lizbeth’s pa wanted her to hook up with? She’s right. He’s really very ugly. Bad table manners. Bad breath. Has a habit of pulling up his shirt and scratching his belly. Very disgusting.”

  “Lester! This is not a joking matter. What’s to become of the children now?”

  “The youngest three are being kept at the shelter until we find a family to take them in. The two oldest will be running the post, along with Lizbeth, I believe.”

  “Don’t send the children away,” Hannah said quickly. “They belong here.”

  “They need parents.”

  “We can parent them at the shelter.”

  “We?”

  “I mean everybody can. If they were kept at the shelter during the day, couldn’t they come home at night to stay with their brother and sister? To stay with Lizbeth. She’s wonderful with children. She’s not much more than a child herself, but she’s a responsible girl.”

  “We might not get much support from the Boulder community if we mix the races.”

  “Oh! I don’t care! I really don’t care. Lizbeth was right about so many things. I think she was influenced a lot by the Marston’s and the Haldeman’s. If she loves Ezra, then she wants what is best for his brothers and sisters, and what is best for them is to stay together.”

  “I don’t know, Miss Barkley. It might be hard to convince some of the committee members.”

  “I’ll help you. I’ll help with your campaign. I’ll help with your shelter work. I’ll even talk to the unattached women at the stagecoach depot. I have the experience of answering bridal advertisements and the understanding of a woman who has lost all. It would be more appropriate, I think, giving you better things to do with your time.”

  “What happened to your grand palace on the range?”

  “I have things to do here. I’m opening a shop. I’m designing women’s clothing and I will be looking for some seamstresses to help me. Just two hundred dollars more, and I’ll have title to some land, and I will have done it all by myself.”

  “Your cattleman wasn’t everything you thought he was?”

  “I wasn’t everything I thought I was.” She turned to leave, then turned around again. “I won’t have it, you know. I won’t stand for worrying about you every single day of my life.”

  He watched her, somewhat puzzled as she stalked her way back down the path leading into town. He turned to Thunder Heart. “Did you understand any of that?” The horse shook its head and pawed the ground. “You think I should clear things up? Women really aren’t like fillies. They take their own time to decide anything. You can’t just sweet talk them and believe that’s going to be good enough. They want you to make all kinds of promises for all kinds of unreasonable things. It’s the truth, Thunder Heart. Painful as it is, life’s not so simple when it comes down to women.”

  The horse butted him in the back. “Alright. We’re going. We’re going.”

  He walked as quickly as his ribs would allow him until he caught up with her. “Miss Barclay. Hannah.” He took her arm. When she t
urned her head, he hesitated. She was crying, but not in the way women gave to tears freely. They were the tears of a very strong woman starting to crumble. They welled up around her eyes while her nose remained pinched and red.

  “Is it so painful for you to care about people?”

  “When I think, I almost lost Lizbeth, and I love her with all my heart. Then I think, I almost lost you and…” She stopped, swallowing visibly and pushing back the large, clear drops threatening to escape her lids. “And I thought about how you are the brother of my best friend, and how very painful it would have been to Greta. What a terrible loss.”

  She turned away from him. Her face was so chiseled and aristocratic, yet so filled with grief and loss. He cornered her against a fence, his arms bracing either side, forming a small corral.

  “Miss Barclay…. Are you falling in love with me?”

  Hannah’s damp eyes widened as she jerked her head around, directly facing him.

  “Why should I be falling in love with you?” she asked. “You are childish, and you lack ambition.”

  He smiled watching her face turn from a porcelain white to desert red. The fire she had inside of her was driving him crazy.

  “I have never been in love with an older woman before. It’s very exhilarating,” he replied, looking deeper into her eyes

  “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met!” she hissed.

  “You might learn to love it,” he smirked.

  She sought to slap him, but his hands instinctively grabbed her wrist

  He noticed she did not try to escape her prison, nor did she pull her hand from his grasp.

  He looked down at her face turned up towards his and stared into her eyes. Those eyes that held him captive and entranced. Her lips were moist and luscious. As he leaned down to kiss her, he felt her body move slightly toward his in a moment of surrender.

  Suddenly realizing where she was, Hannah pulled her head back, breaking the kiss.

  “I can’t promise you anything Lester. I still care about Jeremy. I still value my independence…”

  “But you love me,” he blurted, cutting her off.

  Hannah’s face and shoulders relaxed, and she had a faint smile as she leaned her head back on the fence, looking up at him. “I don’t think I will ever understand you.”

  He laughed, “Oh, I think you do already. You want to go rock climbing with me?”

  “I would not do such a thing!” she said, lifting her arms to break away from his embrace.

  “Oh. Well, that just leaves the barn raising at the Epson’s. There will be dancing afterward.”

  “Do you dance?” she asked him while walking off

  “Irresistibly. All the girls line up for a turn.”

  “Then a barn raising is good. And just so you know, I am not joining the dirtbags.”

  “Oh no, they would not have you. You are way too fancy.”

  “At least I don’t play the flute. A flute is pretty fancy, too, you know”

  “Let me tell you about the time I charmed five bandits on the side of the road to Oregon City.”

  “I don’t want to hear it Lester!” she said trying hard not to grin. “Quit being the jokester for a while and just be Lester.”

  He sighed, “Can I at least talk to my horse?”

  She chuckled, “Yes, you can talk to your horse.”

  He turned to his friend and declared, “Thunder Heart, I’ve met the most incredible woman in the world, and what’s more incredible is that she is in love with me!”

  Lester turned back to see her laughing as small tears rolled down her cheeks. He knew they were happy tears. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he felt it. He knew at that moment she needed him, she needed to be close to him. He walked over and picked her up. Holding her closely to his chest he whispered in her ear, “Hannah I am in love with you.”

  She leaned back looking deep into his eyes, running her fingers through his hair. Then said, “Lester, I know now that you are where I belong.”

  THE END

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  About Author - Natalie Dean

  Natalie Dean has always loved reading historical fiction and writing. She pursued creative writing courses in college, but due to trying life circumstances, couldn’t pursue a writing career as she wanted in her early days. Now that her children are all grown, she is finally able to pursue writing like she has always dreamed of doing. She has several cats and one very spoiled Pomeranian at home. In addition to writing, she also has a beekeeping business that keeps her busy.

  Other books by Natalie Dean

  Brides of Bannack Series

  Lottie

  Cecilia

  Sarah

  Brides and Twins Series

  A Soldier’s Love

  Taming the Rancher

  The Wrong Bride (coming soon)

  Brides of Boulder Series

  The Teacher’s Bride

  The Independent Bride

  STANDALONE TITLES

  Mail Order Groom

  Sneak Peek: A Soldier’s Love

  Book Description

  A SOLDIER’S LOVE

  Brides and Twins Book 1

  A Western Romance Short Story

  "I am not a man given to foolish superstitions, Miss O’Hara, but I daresay that John Turner’s soul will not rest until the mystery of his son has been resolved, and he was counting upon you to do so. Will you accept?"

  Molly O’Hara was just a little girl when she lost her heart to James Turner, the handsome, high-spirited young man who, along with his twin brother, was the heir to the Turner Plantation. But the Civil War tore families apart; it split the Turner brothers as one fought for the Union and the other fought for the Confederacy. The war took Molly’s father’s life and left her mother a distraught widow.

  Now the brothers are gone; one died in battle and James suffered the fate of Andersonville Prison, where most men are never heard from again. But when Molly, who grew up faster than her years, decides to become a mail-order bride at age eighteen, she answers an advertisement from a man named James Turner who runs a ranch in Texas. When she arrives, the man who introduces himself as Jim Turner is reserved and distant, nothing like the James Turner she remembers. But as their love grows, she learns more about the dark places in his soul and she realizes that part of him never left Andersonville.

  Can Molly's love heal James' deep scars of war? Can she get him to overcome his past and live life again?

  Beginnings

  September 15, 1869

  James Turner.

  That’s what the advertisement read. She peered twice to make sure that her eyesight wasn’t failing her, but at eighteen-years-old, Molly O’Hara’s eyesight was flawless.

  James Turner.

  But it couldn’t be. Of course, it couldn’t be Mr. James. He had been captured at Cold Harbor and sent to Andersonville Prison in Georgia. That was five years ago, and he had surely died; that’s what happened to most of the Union prisoners who were sent there.

  Her heart was beating faster at the shock of seeing, in print, the name of a man she believed to be dead.

  I run a ranch in Mesquite, Texas. It’s not an easy life. I am looking for a wife who can manage a household; must be willing and able to cook, clean, and sew. I’m 6’1” tall, 175 pounds; black hair, blue eyes. No visible scars. If interested, please reply:

  Jas. Turner

  Triple T Ranch

  Mesquite Texas

  Very truly yours,

  James Turner

  It simply wasn’t possible. Why, there had to be thousands of James Turners in the United States, and a significant number of them probably were tall and muscular, with black hair and blue eyes. But even if it wasn’t the James Turner she had known since she was a child, it was an ome
n. She was leaving anyway, and all she had needed was a sign from God, telling her which one to choose. There were so many men in the West seeking wives; every single one of them was a gamble. But God knew how she’d felt, even when she was young, about handsome, high-spirited Mr. James and God knew how she’d respond at the sight of that name when, for so long, she’d only been able to imagine it inscribed on a tombstone. God wouldn’t steer her wrong. Hadn’t he shown Abraham’s servant which wife to choose for Isaac?

  Father had wanted her to better herself. That wouldn’t happen if she stayed in Reddington, West Virginia, where she’d spent the last five years wearing mourning clothing because there was more death than life left at the Turner Plantation. She’d already made her decision to travel west as a mail-order bride. The name of the man whose advertisement she was reading confirmed that this was her destiny.

  Dear Mr. Turner, she wrote,

  I would be honored to become your wife. I am eighteen-years-old, and I have managed a household for my employer since I was thirteen. Please send me more details about Mesquite, Texas, so that I may arrange my itinerary.

  Respectfully,

  Mary O’Hara

  She would mail the letter first thing tomorrow morning. As Molly doused the candle and got into her bed, the darkness of the late hour released the memories that she had stored in her mind since she was just a girl. She remembered the night when she heard her parents arguing, and her mother crying, because Da was going away to war. None of them had known then that the war everyone spoke of as if it were nothing more than a brief adventure would turn out to be a death sentence for the people she loved and the life she knew.

  Chapter 1