Winning The Mail-Order Bride. Lauri Robinson

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       Chapter Three

      The single bed in the house was small and the mattress so thin it fell between the rope stays. It shouldn’t matter. Fiona was so tired and worn-out more than any other time she could recall—she should have fallen asleep as fast as the boys had.

      Thankfully, her breathing had returned to normal and the throbbing in parts of her that shouldn’t be throbbing had stopped. That had happened hours ago, yet sleep hadn’t arrived.

      As her gaze went to the window, to the quiet darkness emitting nothing except a single star in the faraway sky, Fiona knew she couldn’t blame her sleeplessness on the bed, or even on her body’s reaction to spending the evening with a handsome man.

      She was scared. Scared she’d made the wrong choice.

      Brett’s kindness, how he’d shared his fish and eggs with them, should be looked upon as a sign of what the others in the community were like. How she and the boys would be welcomed. Instead, she was comparing him to Josiah. Weighing Brett’s welcome against Josiah’s. Everything inside her said the differences would continue, and that made her fear what was to come in the next few days. And the years after that.

      She’d had practice in that area. Comparing men. As Sam had changed, she had too. She’d started to compare herself to other women—how happy and satisfied they were in their lives to how she felt. That was when she’d started to compare their husbands to Sam. Not just in attractiveness, but how they treated their wives. Her hope had been to find a man who would treat her and her sons with compassion and kindness this time, and she greatly feared that hadn’t happened.

      Would life be better for her children here? It had seemed that way in Ohio. That moving away was their only chance to find something different. She’d lost all hope back there and was having a hard time finding any tonight. Or of finding any peace in believing she’d done what had to be done, any optimism in believing she had the strength to continue upon this path she’d chosen.

      She wasn’t a weak or frail woman. Hard work had never worried her, and her faith had never failed her, yet it was none of those things that lingered in the back of her mind right now. It was her. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a mayor. Of a man so prominent. More than that, though, was her worry of how Josiah would treat her children. He’d shown no compassion or understanding for what they had been through before leaving Ohio nor shown any concern about their arrival in a strange place. Not even when it came to their hunger.

      She’d had to be strong her entire life and had hoped that would change here. That the man she’d promised to wed would be her shelter against the storm that had raged upon her for so long. Life had worn her out, and she was tired of being tired. Tired of fighting the battle by herself.

      Perhaps she was just being selfish and just needed time to get to know Josiah better.

      The bed creaked as Wyatt shifted.

      Lying on her side in order to leave as much space for the boys as possible, Fiona twisted to look over her shoulder.

      “Where are you going?” she whispered as he slipped off the bed.

      “To sleep on the floor,” he said.

      “No, Wyatt, you—”

      “It won’t be any worse than the train,” he said, gathering one of the blankets.

      “I’ll—”

      “No, Ma, I will sleep on the floor.”

      He was stubborn, especially when he set his mind to something. Pulling the pillow out from beneath her head, she handed it to him. “Take this pillow too.”

      “No. You need that one. Rhett’s using the other one. I’ll be fine.” A thump and shuffling sounded as he settled onto the floor. “I’ll be right here, so don’t worry, Ma. Get yourself some sleep.”

      Curled up near her feet, Rhett was using the other pillow, and tears burned her eyes as she replaced the pillow beneath her head. For all his orneriness lately, Wyatt was still a good boy at heart and had taken it upon himself to be the man of the family ever since Sam had died. “Good night, honey.”

      “Night.” Silence barely had time to settle when he asked, “Do you think Brett would give me a job, Ma? He owns both the feed store and the blacksmith shop.”

      Brett did own both businesses, and she’d already witnessed enough to believe he was generous enough to give anyone a job. Yet she couldn’t tell that to Wyatt. “You’re too young for a job.”

      “No, I’m not, and if Brett gave me one, you wouldn’t need to marry the mayor.”

      Fiona closed her eyes to gather any invisible strength still hiding somewhere inside her. “Yes, I would,” she whispered. “I gave him my word. I can’t go back on that.” She pinched her lips together and dug deep enough to say, “Besides, I want to marry Mr. Melbourne.”

      “No, you don’t.”

      “Yes, Wyatt, I do.”

      “Don’t see how you can when he don’t like none of us.”

      “He never said—”

      “He didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes. He thinks we’re thieves. Thinks Pa was a thief too. Just like the folks in Ohio did.”

      As hard as she’d tried to keep the children from hearing what had happened to their father, they had heard. Knew Sam had been with the Morgan brothers when they’d tried robbing the train. Knew he’d been shot while trying to get away. He’d made it home. Died in their bed. Therefore, everyone in town had thought she’d known what he’d been up to. Thought she could very well have been a participant. She hadn’t been. Hadn’t known what he and the Morgans had conjured up, but few had believed СКАЧАТЬ