MAIL ORDER MOUNTIES
Bride for Jonathan
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CHAPTER 1
Elaine Crawford knelt on her seat and craned her neck, trying to see more of the countryside as the train rolled through it. She bumped her nose against the glass of the window and pulled back, but that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. The mountains, the trees—it was like a doorway had opened up in her soul and was pulling in everything she saw. She’d never felt so alive, so free, so . . .
“I’ve decided this train is simply never going to stop.” Hazel Hughes, the older woman who had convinced Elaine to come along on this adventure, plopped down on the opposite seat and gave a giant sigh. “I’ve always wanted to travel and see the world, but if there was a way to do it without these endless train rides, it would sure make the whole experience a lot nicer.”
“But look at the view,” Elaine said, turning around and taking her seat properly. “Have you ever seen trees so towering, grass so green, mountains so majestic? I’ve spent nearly my whole life surrounded by buildings and more buildings—this is so wild, so untamed and free.”
Mrs. Hughes regarded her skeptically. “You and those books of yours. They’ve certainly influenced your vocabulary, haven’t they?”
“Everything we experience should influence us—otherwise, why experience anything at all?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Mrs. Hughes smoothed down her skirt. “I wanted to mention something to you before we arrive in Moose Lick.”
“And that’s another thing,” Elaine said. “Moose Lick. Isn’t that the most wonderful name? When you hear it, you immediately get a sense of what the place will be like. There’s nothing pretentious about it. It’s the kind of place where you could really feel at home, don’t you think?”
Mrs. Hughes lifted a hand, and Elaine fell silent. She didn’t mean to talk so much, but when her thoughts were tumbling around in her head like they were, it was impossible to hold them in. “I need to speak with you about your future husband.”
Oh, dear. Did he have eleven fingers? Was he a drinker? Was he already married? Elaine tried to quiet her imagination and just listen. “Yes, Mrs. Hughes?”
“The fact of the matter is, I know very little about him. When I was asked to bring you girls out, I was given a list of requirements . . . er, requests . . . as to what each girl should be, but he didn’t say what he was looking for. I had to make a guess.”
Elaine blinked. “You don’t know anything about him?”
“Only that his family believed he’d never marry.”
“And why is that? What’s wrong with him?” Maybe he had eleven fingers and twelve toes! What would their children look like? Would they even have children?
Mrs. Hughes lifted her hand again. “Gracious, child. There’s no need to be so alarmed. I know his sister, Evelyn, and she’s quite a lovely person—if somewhat hardheaded. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with him, so to speak. He’s probably just never found the right young lady to share his life with. Now he’ll have you, and all will be well.”
“But if you don’t know him, how can we be sure that I’ll fit?” For the first time since hearing of this mail-order bride scheme, Elaine was scared. Really scared. It had sounded like a marvelous adventure in a gorgeous new land with a dashing man at her side, but now she realized she was leaving behind her home and her family to go live in the middle of a bunch of trees with a man who might or might not have three arms. What had she agreed to?
Mrs. Hughes looked thoughtful. “It was just a sense I had. Now, I know that a lot of people think I’m nuttier than a fruitcake, and perhaps they’re right—at least some of the time. I do have my little quirks. But in this, I’m certain. I thought about him and I thought about you, and it was like you came together like two pieces of a puzzle in my mind. I suppose we’ll find out why when we arrive, won’t we?”
Elaine offered up a smile. All her courage had been drained out of her like water being dumped from a bathtub.
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“And you have no qualms about this girl liking you?” Jonathan asked his friend and fellow Mountie Dermot Strickland as the two rode toward the train station at Moose Lick.
“Why worry? Everything will work out.” Dermot grinned. “And what’s not to like?” He was a good-looking fellow with enough confidence to sink a ship.
Jonathan wasn’t nearly so convinced of his own ability to woo a wife. He’d all but given up on the idea and had resigned himself to a life of bachelorhood, which suited a Mountie quite well, actually. But there was something about this mail-order bride thing that appealed to him, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he truly was lonely. He met up with Dermot a couple of times a week to compare notes about the work they were doing with the natives, and the two of them met with Preston and Wesley in Moose Lick weekly, but that was nothing at all when compared with the possibility of having a sweet wife waiting for him at the cabin when he arrived home each night.
The cabin. He sighed, adjusting his position in the saddle a bit. His cabin was a tiny one-room shack, not a place fit for a bride. He’d had every intention of adding onto it, but there had been some unrest in the native village near his cabin, and he’d spent a lot of time on patrol. Things would have to remain as they were for just now, and he cringed to think of bringing a wife in there. It was cramped, it was dusty, and it was cluttered. He didn’t have the gift for organizing that some people seemed to have.
But a wife would change all that. She’d come in and clean up and cook hot meals, and she’d be a familiar face after a day of stoic expressions or eyes filled with anger. Beyond that, he didn’t know what to expect. Would they become friends, or would this be more like a business arrangement? He didn’t dare expect that they’d fall in love. That had never happened with any of the girls he knew—why would it happen with a girl he didn’t know at all?
“You’re awfully quiet,” Dermot said. “Daydreaming about your bride?”
“More like dreading it,” Jonathan replied. “Was this a mistake? What if the girls get here and demand to go home on the next train?”
“And what if they love it here? Lighten up,” Dermot said, clapping Jonathan’s shoulder as he rode past. “Race you the rest of the way.”
Jonathan shook his head as Dermot and Star shot down the trail. He’d take a page from Dermot’s book and try to remain positive, but deep in his gut was a knot of worry. It was probably best that he’d never married—he didn’t think he was up to it. Not in the past, and not now.
