Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set. Jillian Hart

“We better get going before this storm gets any worse. I need to get back to the ranch and we have to stop by the mercantile and then the church.”

      He took her arm and looked ready to walk away.

      “But—” Maeve burst out and stepped back. The blanket kept her face in shadows and she couldn’t see well. “Violet.”

      The cover shifted as she turned and, through the opening around her face, she saw his bewildered expression. Maeve had answered a half dozen other ads and none of the men wanted a woman with a daughter. A healthy son could be of some help, they had all said, but not a daughter. She hadn’t known she was pregnant when she answered those ads so she hadn’t mentioned a baby, but when it came time to answer Noah’s ad she had simply said she had one child.

      He had not asked whether it was a boy or girl or how old the child was; he had just sent two train tickets. At the time, she had thought the man was tolerant and willing to accept any child.

      “My daughter,” Maeve added as she bent over to tuck her shawl more firmly around Violet. Now that she was here it felt unseemly to mention the babe growing inside her until she and Noah had looked each other in the eyes and smiled in acknowledgment of the bond they were contemplating.

      “Oh,” Noah said as though he’d forgotten she even had family.

      “She won’t be any trouble,” Maeve said quietly as she drew the girl closer to her and stepped even with Noah. She was beginning to realize that he had not been kind earlier but, instead, indifferent. She felt a chill go through her that had nothing to do with the storm. She adjusted the blanket, but kept it wrapped around her head. She wished he looked less handsome and more welcoming.

      Violet pulled away slightly and Maeve thought it was because the girl sensed her own growing dismay over the man. But then her daughter turned and pointed at something behind them.

      Maeve followed Violet’s finger. Mercy and her son were knocking on the train window to get their attention. They were on their way farther west to Angel Falls, where Mercy’s future husband waited for them.

      “My friend,” Maeve said by way of explanation to Noah as she lifted her arm in a wave. She and Mercy had said their farewells on the train and Maeve hadn’t expected a chance to do so again. They’d promised to write, but she was glad to see her friend’s face.

      “We don’t have time,” Noah said impatiently.

      “Go-odbye,” Violet stuttered as she whispered and waved shyly.

      Maeve stood up straighter. Her daughter’s trouble with speaking, like the nightmares, had started after seeing her father stabbed to death. Her late husband had taken Violet to some waterfront bar, telling her to stay in the corner, and then he’d sat down and proceeded to be inappropriate with a young lady whose irate father had found them and confronted him. The two men had fought, a full brawl breaking out that had involved the other patrons, and it had all ended badly for her husband. Maeve grieved that he had died, but a larger part of her blamed him for making her a widow.

      The train had started rolling again, and Maeve gave another wave and smile to Mercy. When her friend was out of sight, she turned back to Noah.

      “Ready?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response, but started moving toward the steps that led down from the railroad platform.

      Maeve gathered Violet closer and hurried to follow him.

      Just then a young woman ran past them and into the arms of a man standing on the far side of the platform. His whoop of joy made it clear he’d been expecting her. He even took the woman in his arms and kissed her.

      Violet stopped and stared at them. “Is she a bride, too?”

      “I don’t know,” Maeve said, her lips pressed together, wondering how she was going to explain to her daughter that not all marriages were filled with happiness.

      She had tried to stop the conductor on the train from talking about how wonderful it was going to be when she and Mercy met their respective husbands-to-be. The conductor had even brought by sprigs of mistletoe for the two mail-order brides. He’d said the mistletoe was for their first kisses on Christmas Day with their new husbands.

      Maeve looked at Noah out of the corner of her eyes. He didn’t look as if a green sprig would tempt him to kiss anyone. His face was as foreboding as the storm clouds. He’d stomped down the wooden steps and stood on the snow-covered street, looking toward the west.

      “Is something wrong?” she asked.

      If he was troubled about something, then she didn’t want to approach him about the baby.

      “Just that we’re late,” he said as he turned to her. “The clouds coming in look worse. And now the clerk in the mercantile should be coming back from his noon meal and I don’t see him.”

      “Oh, well, that’s—” Maeve stopped. He had a frown on his face, but he didn’t appear overly angry. If she didn’t tell him now, when would she?

      She took a deep breath and glanced down because she couldn’t bear to watch his eyes as she said what she had to say. “Maybe he has a baby at home and is taking a moment to rock the wee thing. The little ones can be sweet, don’t you think? Makes us all wish we had one.”

      She realized she had to see him to judge his reaction so she looked up at him.

      “He’s not married,” Noah responded as he stood there, his eyes bland as they watched hers curiously.

      “Oh.” She looked at his eyes and waited a moment longer.

      His green eyes didn’t darken even with the clouds overhead. He showed no sudden spark of understanding.

      Finally, his eyes broke away from hers.

      “The clerk’s life is his own that way,” Noah mused idly as he stared down the street again. “No one to answer to.”

      He sounded as if he envied the man. Maeve didn’t know what to say to that, but she apparently didn’t need to say anything as her future husband continued on.

      “Of course, he’s not responsible for taking care of a bunkhouse of men so he might not understand how important it is for us to get our order in for supplies.”

      “Working men need to eat,” Maeve agreed cautiously. Noah had been clear that he wanted a cook for a wife. She kept trying not to let that dismay her. Many marriages started out with less. She wished he had smiled at the thought of babies, though.

      Noah gestured across the street to the general store. “We’ll have to hurry. We don’t have time to do much looking around. As it is, I’ll have to ask the boy who works there to bring most of what we order out in his wagon after the storm. And the preacher will be at the church soon.”

      With that, Noah turned and held out a hand to help her down the steps. Then he gestured as if to lift Violet down to the street, but Maeve said she’d do it. Once she had her daughter next to her, she pulled the girl close and faced them both in the right direction.

      As they walked across the snow-covered street, Maeve convinced herself there was something reassuring about the man. He might not be friendly, but he was clearly used to taking care of others. Besides, his gruffness would likely go away when he got to know her and Violet better.

      She hoped she was right as she pushed back her fears.

      Maeve felt the wind stop again as Noah stepped up onto a wooden walk that was in front of the mercantile. He stomped the snow off his boots.

      Frost outlined the window that looked into the establishment. Various items were right inside on a table. Maeve’s breath caught when she saw a doll in a red dress lying near a flowered teapot.

      Oh, no, Christmas Eve, she thought. She’d almost forgotten the holiday and it was four days from now.

      She had no money for presents, not even for Violet. The girl had wanted a doll like the one in the window