She was promised to another...

When widow Fiona Goldberg and her two adorable sons arrive in Oak Grove, Kansas, proclaimed bachelor Brett Blackwell is instantly captivated. But when he learns she is promised to the mayor, he tries his best to keep his distance...

Out of desperation, Fiona had agreed to become a mail-order bride to the disagreeable, self-important mayor. But something about her neighbor Brett makes her feel safe. She knows she must fight her growing feelings for the forbidden blacksmith, even while longing for him to rescue her and take her as his bride himself!

“I hope you don’t mind if your boys call me Brett? I told them it’s all right, but if you insist I’ll abide by your rules.”

In no place to deny him anything, Fiona said, “I don’t mind.”

“Good, I’m glad we agree on that, Mrs. Goldberg.”

“Me too, Mr. Blackwell.”

It felt as if they were playing a game in which neither of them had said they could call each other by their given names, but both wanted to. She thought of him as Brett. Had since last night. Yet that wouldn’t be right. She would soon marry someone else and—

“Oh…” She stumbled slightly.

“What is it? You step on a rock?”

“No.” Josiah had said he’d be back this afternoon. “I probably should have remained at the house.”

A sternness formed on his face. “The mayor is having lunch with the new preacher. He’ll be busy for some time yet.”

“Oh.”

“Come, now,” Brett said. “There’s no frowning allowed on picnics.”

He was once again smiling and his eyes looked bluer than the sky. Mesmerized for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Author Note

Welcome to Oak Grove! It’s a small town on the prairies of western Kansas and full of people who believe it’s the best town west of the Mississippi. They are so proud of their little town they create a Betterment Committee in order to bring in a trainload of mail-order brides to marry several of the local bachelors. As you can imagine, things aren’t quite as easy as they thought it would be—which has made writing these stories all the more fun.

I hope you enjoy Brett and Fiona, and the twists and turns their story takes before reaching their happy-ever-after.

Stay happy!

Winning the Mail-Order Bride

Lauri Robinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A lover of fairy tales and cowboy boots, LAURI ROBINSON can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men—and women—who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset...or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren. Visit: laurirobinson.blogspot.com, facebook.com/lauri.robinson1, or twitter.com/LauriR.

Books by Lauri Robinson

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Oak Grove

Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

‘Surprise Bride for the Cowboy’

Winning the Mail-Order Bride

Daughters of the Roaring Twenties

The Runaway Daughter (Undone!)

The Bootlegger’s Daughter

The Rebel Daughter

The Forgotten Daughter

Stand-Alone Novels

The Major’s Wife The Wrong Cowboy A Fortune for the Outlaws Daughter Saving Marina Western Spring Weddings ‘When a Cowboy Says I Do’ Her Cheyenne Warrior Unwrapping the Rancher’s Secret The Cowboy’s Orphan Bride

Mills & Boon Historical Undone! ebooks

Rescued by the Ranger

Snowbound with the Sheriff

Never Tempt a Lawman

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The single fly that buzzed between the people sitting shoulder to shoulder in the pews in front of him annoyed folks. Not Brett Blackwell. When the fly finally landed on his shoulder, he let it be. The fly wasn’t any more irritating than the sweat rolling down his neck, and the bug probably wasn’t any happier than he was. Not usually prone to selfish thoughts, Brett wasn’t sure what to do with the melancholy that sat inside him. It had to do with the ceremony taking place in the front of the church.

The folks up there were getting married. He’d paid money to have a chance that one of the brides the Oak Grove Betterment Committee had brought to town would pick him, but that hadn’t happened, and there wasn’t a whole lot of hope inside him to say he might have another chance at getting married anytime soon. Only five brides had arrived instead of the twelve Mayor Melbourne had promised, and though the mayor claimed more would arrive soon, Brett was with the other dozen or so men who figured Josiah was just blowing hot air. The mayor liked to do that. Put Josiah Melbourne behind a podium and a person’s ears would wear out before Josiah’s voice would.

Brett figured the town should be glad that at least five gals had arrived on the train a month ago. There couldn’t be a whole lot of women willing to travel to the center of Kansas to marry a stranger. Although Oak Grove was a nice little town, and growing as folks hoped it would, it was a long ways from everywhere else. Dodge City was a solid hundred miles south. Yet good people lived here. He liked most of them, and despite his own melancholy, he was genuinely happy for the men who were marrying the brides the Betterment Committee had brought to town.

Those men were some of his best friends. Steve Putnam had been the first to welcome him to town a few years ago, and he’d spent plenty of hours fishing in the Smoky Hill River with Jackson Miller, one of the other men standing up there. That was what he should do today, go fishing. It had a way of settling a man’s thoughts.

However, his thoughts might never be settled again. Not until he found himself a wife like Steve and Jackson had.

As he was taller than most everyone else, his gaze easily surveyed the heads ahead of him, until it settled on Josiah Melbourne’s. The mayor was sitting front and center as usual. Abigail White, wearing a hat full of flowers, sat beside Josiah, and Teddy, Abigail’s brother and one of Brett’s best friends, sat beside her. Teddy had been hoping for a wife too, as had several other men in the church.

Just last night he and Teddy had talked about that, about how they doubted the full dozen of brides Josiah had promised would show up, and how there wasn’t a whole lot either of them could do about it.

The fly left his shoulder, and Brett watched as it circled a couple of people before it flew toward the window and ultimately buzzed out the opening. The fly’s freedom sent Brett’s thoughts in a different direction. That fly could have given up, or hit the glass and knocked itself out. But it hadn’t. It had found a way to change its situation, and that was what he needed to do.

Change the situation.

He’d done that before. Had left Wisconsin to change his life and settled here in Oak Grove after completing his time with the railroad. He wasn’t sorry he’d done either of those things. He wasn’t sorry he’d chosen to set up his blacksmith shop here in Oak Grove or that he’d opened up a feed store to go along with his blacksmithing. He wasn’t sorry for anything he’d done. That was how he chose to live his life. A sorry man wasn’t good for anyone, including himself.

Brett sat up a bit straighter, listening as the preacher blessed the unions of the couples getting hitched, and when the preacher offered a prayer for the newly wedded couples, Brett bowed his head and added his own. Then, as an afterthought, he included a quick one for himself. That if God had a mind to, sending a few more brides to town would be appreciated, especially if one took a liking to him.

The services ended shortly thereafter, and he stood in line to shake each man’s hand and give his congratulations to the brides. Then he stepped aside and waited for Teddy to exit the doorway.

It was time he found a wife of his own. On his own. Well, not completely, he needed a little bit of help.

While people continued to file out of the church, congratulating the happy couples, Brett mentally went over the message he’d send his mother. Word for word so it didn’t sound like he was desperate but that there was clearly an element of urgency He could send her a letter, but a telegram would be better. Short and to the point, a telegram would, in itself, tell his mother how speedily he’d like a response.

Teddy not only owned the local newspaper, he ran the telegraph office, and because of the festivities happening, which Teddy was sure to want to attend, Brett would offer a few extra coins to have the message sent today. He usually wouldn’t ask for a favor when the office was closed, but seeing the new brides and grooms looking so happy—which they had a right to be—increased the urgency inside him.

When Teddy finally walked down the steps, Brett waved to catch his attention and was extremely glad when Teddy’s sister, Abigail, remained behind. Abigail wasn’t married, and at one time or another, almost every man in town had considered courting her, including him. Everyone had quickly changed their mind. For him, it wasn’t because she was as thin as the pencil she always kept behind one ear or that the end of her pointed nose had a hook sharper than a hawk’s, it was her voice. Its high-pitched squeak was more irritating than a wheel needing grease and Lord but that woman was nosy. As the town’s one and only reporter, she felt she had a right to know everyone’s business and that it was her duty to write about it. Every picnic and stroll she embarked upon with a possible suitor ended up in the newspaper. His consideration of Abigail as a possible wife hadn’t gone that far for him. He had no desire to read her thoughts about his size or accent.

“Say, Brett,” Teddy said in greeting. “New preacher did a good job, don’t you think?”

“Ya, the brides and grooms sure look happy.”

“Have a right to be, don’t they?” Teddy said with a bit of his own melancholy showing.

“Sure do.” Glancing over to make sure Abigail was still busy talking to the preacher and the mayor, Brett nodded for Teddy to follow him a short distance away. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, what is it?”

With another glance in Abigail’s direction, Brett said, “I need to send a telegram home. A private one.”

Teddy, who didn’t resemble his sister in any way other than the ink stains on his hands, glanced over his shoulder before saying, “Your privacy is safe with me, you know that.”

“I do,” Brett agreed. “And I appreciate it.” Shrugging, he added, “I don’t have a piece of paper handy.”

“That’s all right, just give me the gist of it. Abigail has a habit of reading any notes left lying around. Not that I’d leave yours lying around, but you know what I mean.”

Brett nodded and leaned closer to whisper, “I need to send a message to my mother, Henrietta Blackwell, in Bayfield, Wisconsin.”

Teddy nodded. “Got it. What’s it to say?”

“I want her to send me a woman willing to marry me. Right quick-like.”

“What’s the woman’s name?”

“I don’t know,” Brett admitted. “Whoever she can find.”

Teddy sighed and then nodded. “So you aren’t holding out any hope for Melbourne to produce the other women he promised?”

“No, but even if more do arrive, there’s no guarantee they’ll find me a suitable husband. There’re a lot of men to choose from.”

“Don’t I know it,” Teddy replied. “Think your mother knows two women?”

Brett didn’t want to push his luck but could understand why Teddy asked. “Can’t say,” he replied, “but let’s just start with one.”

“All right.” Teddy glanced over his shoulder again. “I’ll go send it right now. Abigail’s heading straight over to the reception. She plans on writing a special edition of the Gazette about the weddings.”

“I’ll head that way too—keep an eye on her.” Brett dug in his pocket. “How much do I owe you? I’ll pay extra, this being so urgent and all.”

“No charge,” Teddy said, “with the understanding that if your mother sends you a suitable bride, I have your permission to ask her to send one for me. Abigail and I don’t have any family we can ask, and she hasn’t left too many friends in the wake of our travels either.”

“Fair enough,” Brett replied, shaking Teddy’s hand. Rather than express his understanding that Abigail probably hadn’t left any friends anywhere, he simply said, “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as it’s sent,” Teddy replied, turning about.

Brett waited until Abigail walked down the church steps and then, keeping one eye on her, for she would surely question Teddy’s absence if she noticed it, he fell in among the crowd of folks making their way to the open meadow where the reception of all five couples was to be held.

There, he made small talk with several folks and ate a plate of food from the tables the women of the town had laden with kettles and platters to go along with the side of beef that Steve Putnam had provided to be roasted over an open fire.

Normally appreciative of every meal he ate, Brett couldn’t say he tasted much of what he put in his mouth. By the time he saw Teddy, who gave him a wave that said the telegram had been sent, Brett had had enough of the party and headed up the road toward home.

His mother would know exactly what type of woman would make a good wife. One who could cook and hopefully wanted a big family. Several boys for sure, but he wouldn’t mind a couple little girls either. Actually, he knew he wouldn’t mind the slightest if they were all girls. As long as he had others to share his home with, he really didn’t care. His businesses provided enough income to feed as many children as his new wife wanted.

He’d closed down both shops in order to attend the weddings, and considering most everyone in town was still at the wedding reception, there was no sense reopening them. Therefore, after crossing the railroad tracks, he rounded the big building he’d built two years ago with lumber brought in on the railroad from his family back home and crossed the little field to the house that had also been built with solid northern pine. Kansas didn’t have enough trees for all the lumber it needed, and after he’d left home, he’d let it be known his family had plenty of good Wisconsin lumber to sell and the railroads made getting that lumber to where it was needed far easier than it ever had been.

He’d set up plenty of accounts for his family’s business back home before and after he hired on the railroad and started looking for a place to call his own.

Not all the lumber in Oak Grove had come from Wisconsin, but a good amount had. Just last month he’d helped unload a train car full of Blackwell Lumber. It had been for the town, so he’d gotten a good deal on it from his older brother. The town was building a few small houses just a ways past his. Hoping to sell them to new residents. Ready-made homes were one sure way to bring in new citizens. That was what the mayor had said, and the town council agreed with him. Just like they’d agreed when Josiah had suggested building the church and the schoolhouse and sending money back east to have brides sent out here.

Done worrying about those brides, Brett collected his fishing pole from the tool shed and headed back toward the tracks that ran along his buildings. A mile south was where he was going. To where the cool water of the Smoky Hill River flowed westward, leaving enough moisture behind for a few trees to shade the grassy banks. There was no better way for a man to collect his thoughts than to spend a few hours fishing.

As he stepped over the first rail of hardened steel, he couldn’t help but remember the work that had gone into laying every inch, and the faint rumble beneath his feet had him looking eastward. A man could see for miles in this country, and though it was little more than a dot on the horizon, a westbound train was making its way into Oak Grove.

Knowing there was no need for him to meet it—there wouldn’t be anyone needing a blacksmith or chicken or horse feed, he turned his gaze southward and continued over the tracks and past the few houses that sat on the east edge of town.

Jackson Miller lived in one of those houses. He’d been lucky enough to marry one of the brides. Maggie McCary. Steve Putnam had married the other McCary sister, Mary. Brett had hoped he’d stand a chance with Maggie or Mary, especially after tasting Mary’s cooking. That was what he missed most about home. Ma’s cooking.

That wasn’t completely true. Although he missed the tasty and plentiful meals Ma always had on the table, he’d learned enough from her to cook reasonably well for himself. Leastwise enough to satisfy his appetite. What he really missed was having others around the table to share meals with him. Being one of eight kids, his family home had never been quiet. Not like his little house was. Quiet and empty.

He was tired of the quiet. Tired of being lonely. And when he was tired of something, he took action. Just like he’d done today.

The music from the reception faded as he walked on, and by the time he arrived at the river, the only noise interrupting the afternoon air was a whistle announcing the train had arrived in Oak Grove. He smiled to himself. Soon that very train would be bringing him a bride.

* * *

The shrill sound of the train whistle had Fiona Goldberg closing her eyes and saying a brief prayer. She’d been praying since they’d left Ohio, and one more couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t as if she was asking for a miracle, just a bit of comfort to settle her nerves. Then again, that in itself might be a miracle. She was rather frazzled. The train ride had been a long one, and the boys weren’t used to such confinement. Neither was she.

“Are we there, Ma?” Rhett asked with hope making his blue eyes shine.

“Yes.” Giving her trembling hands something to focus on, she folded his collar back into place. “This is Oak Grove.”

“Don’t look like much to me,” Wyatt said with as much disgust as he’d shown when they’d left Ohio.

Knowing there were times when it best served the purpose to ignore her seven-year-old’s attitude, she stayed focused on straightening Rhett’s collar. At five, he was looking at their move as an adventure rather than a necessity. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful place for us to live,” she said.

“I’m not,” Wyatt mumbled.

Fiona held her breath in order not to snap at her older son. All of their nerves were frazzled.

“Can we eat soon, Ma?” Rhett asked. “I’m mighty hungry.”

She pulled up a smile just for him and kissed his forehead. “As soon as possible. I promise.” Then she turned to Wyatt. “Gather the satchel from under the seat, please. And put your hat on.”

Wyatt grumbled, as he’d taken to doing lately, but did as told. By the time the train rolled to a jerking and squealing stop, both boys were seated beside her and waiting for the conductor to announce they could depart. If she could have found her voice, she would have told the boys to be on their best behavior, but her own misgivings about marrying a stranger—with two children in tow—had her throat burning and her eyes stinging.

Refusing to let her children see her fears, she smiled at each of them and then nodded as the conductor waved them forward.

Wyatt was the first one out the door, followed quickly by Rhett. As Fiona descended the steps, joining them on the platform, Wyatt mumbled, “Told you it weren’t much of a town.”

She couldn’t disagree, not at first glance, but she’d seen worse places. The town was small, but the buildings were nicely painted and the streets fairly well kept. The thing that struck her as odd was the lack of people. There weren’t any, and the stores looked closed.

“There’s the sheriff’s office,” Rhett said, grasping a hold of her skirt.

“It sure enough is,” a portly man said, walking out of the depot and toward them. “You’d best behave or you’ll be visiting it.”

Her spine stiffened as Fiona gathered Rhett closer. “Pardon me, sir,” she said to the stranger, “but there is no call—”

“Fiona Goldberg, I’m assuming,” the man said, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead with a white handkerchief. “I’m Josiah Melbourne.”

Chagrin burned her cheeks. “M-Mr. Melbourne,” Fiona stuttered. “I apologize, I didn’t—”

“Recognize me? Of course you didn’t.” He stuffed the kerchief in his pocket and then pulled the lapels of his suit across his thick chest as he said, “You sent me a picture. I, in turn, did not send you one.”

Her stomach bubbled. The picture she’d sent had been the one taken of her and Sam shortly after they’d been married. She’d snipped the photograph in half before sending it and still felt guilty about doing that. Despite how his life had ended, how their lives together had been, Sam had been her husband and she still owed him the honor she’d vowed on their wedding day.

Swallowing around the lump that threatened to completely close off her airway, she said, “Hello, Mr. Melbourne, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure it is.” Looking at the children over the top of his wire-framed glasses, he continued, “And these are your two boys. Wyatt and Red, I believe.”

“Rhett,” she corrected. “Wyatt and Rhett. Wyatt is seven and Rhett is five and they—”

“Let’s be on our way, shall we?”

Fiona glanced over her shoulder, wishing they could step back on the train and start over. Not only had she blundered their initial meeting, Mr. Melbourne’s interruptions were not leaving a pleasurable first impression on Wyatt. His eyes had narrowed, much like Sam’s used to do when he’d been irritated.

If she had the ability to change time, to start over, it would be before today. Before she’d had to make a choice about the new life they were embarking upon. Sam’s death had left them penniless and homeless. She’d done her best to make a living, but feeding two boys cost more than she could make doing laundry and sewing, and she’d refused to ask the Masons to give her another month of reduced rent.

“I’ve instructed that your belongings be delivered to the house,” Josiah said as he grasped her elbow and started walking along the platform. “This way. It’s on the other side of the tracks. The house is owned by the town and with my permission you’ll be allowed to stay there, rent-free, for this upcoming week, after which time we will be married. Next Saturday. At the church.”

A river of fear raced through her, once again making her question what she was doing. “One week is not very long to get to know someone,” she said quietly.

“I believe I’m being generous, Fiona. You agreed to marry me. I could have had that arranged for today. Furthermore, I just paid for three train tickets from Ohio to Kansas. That wasn’t cheap.”

It took considerable effort to get past the flare of anger that started to swirl inside her. She was here and would make the most of it, but she wouldn’t be belittled. “I’m sure it wasn’t, Mr. Melbourne, and yes, that is correct, I have agreed to marry you, but a small amount of time for the boys to get used to the idea would not be unfair to them, or me. It’s only been six months since their father—”

“That is not my problem,” Josiah said.

It wasn’t his problem, it was hers, and her hope of this being a solution was souring quickly. After church one Sunday a few weeks ago, Reverend Ward’s wife had told her about Oak Grove’s willingness to pay for the westward passage of any woman who would agree to become a mail-order bride. Mrs. Ward had heard about the invitation for brides from her sister over in Bridgeport and had quite openly suggested that the best thing Fiona could do for her and the boys was to leave Ohio.

Understanding they’d worn out their welcome at the church—if they’d ever been welcomed—Fiona had gone home that night and penned a letter to Josiah himself. Mrs. Ward had conveniently given her the name and address. Fiona had included her picture, not wanting anyone to be disappointed, for she’d never claimed to be a beautiful woman. She was too tall for that and her hair too dull and lifeless. She’d also been completely honest in explaining she was a widow with two young sons, and that although she didn’t live in Bridgeport, had never been there, she had heard about Oak Grove’s need for brides and hoped she qualified.

The hold Rhett had on her hand tightened as they stepped off the platform. She looked down and smiled at him, wishing there was another way to ease the apprehension on his young face.

“The week I’m offering is not for you or the children,” Josiah said as gravel crunched beneath their feet. “It is for me to see if you will make a suitable wife. Besides being the mayor of this community, I’m an attorney. A man as prominent as myself needs to have a wife who can be looked upon just as prominently. One who understands the importance of such a position.”

Fiona bit her lips together and breathed through her nose. She’d never been looked upon prominently. However, she had her pride, and honor, and could hold her head up despite the worst of situations. She’d been doing that for the past six months in ways she’d never had to before. And would continue to, if for no other reason than the sake of her sons. “I explained the untimely and unfortunate death of my husband in my letter, Mr. Melbourne, and—”

“Yes, you did, Fiona, and let me assure you, if I deem you worthy of being my wife, neither your husband’s death, nor his infractions, will ever concern you again.”

She bit her lips together again and willed her anger to ease. He wasn’t a tall man. The top of his head was about level with her chin, and his shoulders twisted back and forth as he strutted along beside her. He was rather rude and pompous, but those were all things she could and would overlook in order to see her children clothed, fed and living under a roof that didn’t leak. She’d had to overlook worse things.

In fact, she’d been overlooking things her entire life. Having been taken in as a small child by family members who’d already had enough mouths to feed had instilled a certain amount of accepting things as they were.

Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Melbourne. Perhaps once you’ve shown me the house, you can enlighten me with a list of your expectations.” As long as she knew what had to be done, she could do it.

The smile he bestowed upon her made her insides gurgle, as did the way his chest seemed to puff outward.

“I knew you’d be trainable from the moment I read your letter, Fiona. I’m so glad I wasn’t wrong.”

Knowing full well it wasn’t what he was referring to, Fiona couldn’t stop herself from replying, “I’ve been housebroken for some time, Mr. Melbourne. All three of us have been.”

Chapter Two

Content that his afternoon of fishing had been just what he’d needed to put things back in perspective, Brett hauled his catch home to clean and fry up. He took the same route back, skirting the boundaries of town. Even though his melancholy had lifted, he still had no desire to attend the reception continuing to take place. Actually, all his alone time had put him in a considerably good mood. The Olsens who lived several miles from his family’s mill had as many girls in their family as his had boys. Two of his seven brothers had married Olsen girls, and he was mulling over the idea that his mother might investigate if another one of the Olsen girls would be interested in moving to Kansas. That might be easier. Already knowing the gal she sent him. Ma knew most every family in northern Wisconsin, so it could be someone other than one of the Olsen girls. That would be fine too.

It wasn’t like him to ask for assistance. He’d rather give it than accept it, but writing home wasn’t that much different than donating to the Betterment Committee had been. At least that was what he was telling himself. Most of the single men in town had anteed up the money the mayor had deemed necessary in order to have a chance for one of the mail-order brides to consider them a viable husband.

The idea he’d sent that telegram to his mother took on more solid roots as Brett cleaned the six catfish. Matter of fact, he’d bet she’d be right pleased to help out. That was how she was, always willing to help whoever needed a bit of assistance.

Once he had the fillets soaking in a dish of water on the kitchen table, he went to collect a shovel in order to bury the heads and entrails. Although his mother had raised only boys, she hadn’t shied away from making them understand that keeping a clean house was just as easy as keeping a dirty one.

Stepping out his back door, Brett paused at the sight of two young boys examining the fishing pole he’d left leaning against the porch railing. He glanced left and right before looking at the boys again.

Not recognizing the two boys as any he knew in town, Brett asked, “Where did you fellas come from?”

The taller of the two, and presumably the older, pulled the smaller boy away from the fishing pole. “Over there,” he said while pointing toward the field that held the one house the city had erected so far.

The smaller of the two dark-haired boys cast a wary gaze at Brett as he scooted behind the taller one.

“We didn’t touch your pole,” the older one said. “Just looked at it.”

Brett understood his deep voice and heavy northern accent took some getting used to, so he tried to speak more softly. “You can touch it. It’s a sturdy pole. I’ve had it a long time and have caught a good amount of fish with it.”

The younger boy peeked around the older one, glancing from the pole to his brother, who shook his head.

“That’s all right,” the older one said. “I can tell it’s a good pole from here.”

“A fisherman, are you?”

The boy shrugged.

Brett would guess him to be about seven or eight. “You must be. Only a fisherman knows a good pole by just looking at it.”

“I like to go fishing,” the younger boy said. He might have said more if the older one hadn’t frowned at him.

“Me too.” Brett then glanced across the field again. “Are your parents thinking of buying the house from the city?”

“No,” the older one said. “The mayor’s letting us stay there for a week.”

“He is?” That didn’t sound like Melbourne, unless there was a cutback in it for him, but that wasn’t something Brett would discuss with a child.

“Yes, he is,” the boy replied before asking, “Why do you talk like that?”

Brett wasn’t insulted. There had been a time when he’d tried to alter his accent, but that was more work than it was worth. This was the way he’d talked his entire life, and he figured he’d go right on doing so. He patted the boy on the head while walking down the steps. “Because I’m not from around here. I lived up north, by Canada, until a couple of years ago when I moved here.”

“We saw you carrying the fishing pole,” the younger boy said as they both started walking beside him. “And some fish.”

“Ya, I went fishing. Caught a fine batch of cats.” He held out the bucket. “Gotta bury the innards.”

The younger boy, most likely having figured out there was no need to be scared, pointed toward the bucket. “Ma used to bury those in the garden.”

“That’s what my ma would do too. Or have me or one of my brothers do it,” Brett answered while stopping at the tool shed door. “But seeing I don’t have a garden, I’ll bury them out by that little tree.”

“You don’t have many of those around here,” the older boy said.

Brett entered the shed, grabbed the shovel and stepped back out. “Trees?”

The boy nodded.

“No, we don’t,” Brett agreed. “I’d like to see a few more, that’s for sure.”

Both boys started walking beside him again. “There were lots of trees in Ohio,” the younger one said.

“Ohio? Is that where you’re from?” Brett asked.

“Yes.”

The tone of the older boy said he’d rather be back in Ohio. Brett figured that was how most children felt when it came to moving away from their home and didn’t begrudge the youngster whatsoever. “Never been to Ohio. But we had lots of trees in Wisconsin. Say, what are your names?”

“I’m Wyatt, and this here is Rhett.”

“I’m five,” Rhett supplied.

“Wyatt and Rhett, you say,” Brett said while setting down the bucket near the small and only tree on his property. “Well, my name is Brett. Brett Blackwell.”

“Hey, your name sounds like my name. Brett. Rhett.”

“That it does,” Brett answered the younger boy while jabbing the shovel into the ground. “But I’m a lot older than five.”

“How long you lived around here?” Wyatt asked.

“More than two years. Oak Grove is a nice town. I’m sure your folks will like it.” The hole was deep enough. Brett set aside the shovel and dumped the bucket’s contents in the hole and then grabbed the shovel to replace the dirt. “You two will too once you get to know others.”

“We already know others,” Wyatt said.

There was so much anger in the boy’s voice Brett had to follow the glare Wyatt was casting across the field. Right to the house the city had for sale. “Who?” he asked. “Who do you know?”

“The mayor.”

Brett nodded. “Josiah Melbourne likes to hear himself talk, but he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him any more than I already do,” Wyatt said.

“Me neither,” Rhett said. “He told us to go outside and not come back in until he leaves and that was a long time ago.”

Carrying the empty bucket and shovel, Brett started walking back toward his house. “Probably because he has some important business to talk about with your folks.”

“Like when he’s gonna marry our ma.”

Brett stumbled slightly. “Marry your ma? Where’s your pa?”

“Got hisself killed back in Ohio,” Wyatt said. “That’s why we had to move here, and why Ma has to marry the mayor.”

The mayor prided himself on being from Ohio, and it was an acquaintance of his rounding up brides from there—which made Brett ask, “Did your ma know the mayor when he lived in Ohio?”

“No. The preacher’s wife told Ma she had to come out here and marry the mayor ’cause folks at the church didn’t want us there no more.”

That didn’t sound like a thing any preacher’s wife should say and Brett couldn’t stop himself from asking, “She did?”

“Yes, she did.” Wyatt had both arms crossed over his chest and his squinting eyes held enough anger to make a rattlesnake take cover.

Children shouldn’t harbor such anger. Shouldn’t have to. A good portion of anger was starting to well around inside Brett too—at the idea of more brides arriving and Melbourne harboring one for himself. That wasn’t playing by the rules. The women were supposed to have a choice of who they wanted to marry.

“You gonna cook those fish you caught?” little Rhett asked.

They’d arrived back at the tool shed, and as Brett set the shovel inside, he answered, “I am. Do you boys like catfish? I got more than I can eat.”

Rhett licked his lips while looking up at Wyatt. The older boy shook his head and reluctance filled his voice as he said, “Ma probably wouldn’t like that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with your ma, but knowing how long-winded the mayor can be, and seeing you two are hungry, and considering I invited you to eat, I don’t see how she could be too mad. Do you?”

“No,” Rhett answered while his older brother was still considering how to answer. “She promised we’d eat right after we arrived in town, and that was a long time ago.”

“Let me rinse out this bucket, then we’ll go cook us some fish,” Brett said. “We’ll leave the door open so we can hear if she hollers for you.”

Wyatt appeared to agree with that and held out a hand. “I’ll rinse out the bucket. Rhett’s been hungry for hours.”

Brett handed over the bucket, but not until he asked, “Didn’t they feed you on the train?”

“Just once a day,” Wyatt answered. “Last night was the last time we ate.”

Brett grasped Rhett’s little shoulder to lead him up the steps while gesturing toward the well for Wyatt to find the water to rinse out the bucket. “Come on, little feller. Let’s get something in your stomach.” He’d always liked helping others, but thinking about these boys not eating since last night had a powerful bout of sorrow rising up inside him. As children, he and his brothers ate nonstop because that was what boys did. His mother used to say they had hollow legs, but she’d never not let them eat. Never not had a pantry full of food. It wasn’t until he’d gotten older that he realized how lucky that had made him. How rich, not in money, but in life, that had made him. That was part of what made him willing to share whatever he had with whoever needed it.

“Where’d you get so many eggs?” Rhett asked, pointing toward the wire basket on the counter.

“I bought them over at the mercantile.” Seeing how the boy’s eyes were glued on the basket, Brett said, “We’ll fry some to go with the fish.”

“We will?”

Brett nodded while starting a fire in the stove. “Sure enough will.” When he was young and snatched a cookie or slice of bread before a meal, his mother would say he was going to spoil his appetite. That hadn’t happened and he doubted it would for this little feller either. Brett shut the stove door and opened one of the warming oven doors to take out a plate of biscuits he’d purchased from the bakery yesterday. “Here, go ahead and snack on one of these while I get the fish and eggs frying.”

Rhett needed no further coaxing. Neither did Wyatt. By the time the fish was frying, they’d each eaten two biscuits. While they’d been taking the edge off their hunger, Brett had been telling them about other children living in town, mainly the hotel owner’s two rambunctious boys. He also told them about the school and how they’d meet many other children there.

Rhett seemed excited, but Wyatt was hesitant. At seven, he carried a big load on his shoulders, and Brett couldn’t help but wonder what had put it there.

“You boys know how to set a table?” he asked while cracking an egg on the edge of the frying pan. With no sisters, he and his brothers had set the table many times while growing up.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett answered.

“You’ll find everything in that cupboard.” He pointed toward the cabinet behind Wyatt. “Don’t forget napkins.”

He was setting the plate full of fried fish on the table when a woman appeared in the doorway. She was tall and slender, and wearing a dark green dress that was buttoned all the way up to her chin, but it was the dark circles beneath her eyes that made a knot form in Brett’s stomach.

“Brett invited us to eat with him, Ma,” Wyatt said.

“You said we’d eat as soon as we got to town,” Rhett said at the same time.

She bit her bottom lip as she turned to look at him again. “I apologize, Mr. Blackwell—”

“No need to apologize, Mrs. Goldberg,” Brett said while she glanced toward her sons once again. It was obvious Josiah had told her his name, just as Wyatt had told him hers. “I did invite Rhett and Wyatt to supper. As you can see, I have plenty, and feeding my new neighbors would be my pleasure.” A second thought formed then, that of Josiah inviting them to eat with him. “Unless you have other plans of course. I’m afraid I didn’t think of that.”

The way she paused long enough to close her eyes briefly and swallow sent a tiny shiver up his spine. When she opened her eyes and he spotted the moisture she’d been trying to hide, he experienced a wave of melancholy that surpassed all he’d been feeling for himself the past few days.

“No, Mr. Blackwell, we don’t have other plans, and I apologize for that, as well.”

If there hadn’t been little ears nearby, he’d have asked why. Melbourne should have planned something for their first night in town. Then again, if Josiah hadn’t been aware they’d be arriving today, he might have been taken off guard, and considering Rollie Austin was one of the men who’d gotten married today, there wasn’t any place in town open for them to get a meal.

“That must be why I caught so many fish today,” Brett said while pulling out a chair for her. “I already told the boys the fish just wouldn’t stop biting on my hook.”

She glanced from him to the table and back at him. “This is so kind of you, Mr. Blackwell, but we couldn’t impose. The boys shouldn’t have—”

“No one’s imposing, ma’am.” Seeing her hesitation, he added, “I appreciate the company.”

She glanced around the room. “And your wife?”

Brett laughed. “Don’t have one.” He gestured to the table. “It’s nothing fancy, just fish and eggs, but there’s plenty.”

The indecision in her eyes had Brett holding his breath. Or maybe it was the way she was biting her bottom lip. Her face was like the rest of her, long and thin, and her eyes reminded him of a cloudy day—sort of sad and hopeless. Brett took another step closer. “You have to be hungry. Your boys sure are. Think of it as my way of welcoming you to Kansas. Once your bellies are full, you can get settled in your house and then get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow will be a new day.”

“That’s what you always say, Ma,” Rhett said.

The hint of a smile that formed on her lips put a faint shine on her face. “Yes, it is.” Turning his way, she nodded. “I’d—We’d be honored to share a meal with you, Mr. Blackwell, and we sincerely appreciate the invitation.”

“I’ll get another plate,” Wyatt said, displaying a full smile.

“I’ll help him,” Rhett offered.

The younger brother had smiled many times during their short visit, but Wyatt hadn’t, and by the smile that grew on the woman’s face, Brett would bet it was the first time she’d smiled in a while too. He wanted to know why. And he wanted to change that. Someone as pretty as she was should be smiling all the time.

“Thank you, Mr. Blackwell,” she said, holding her hand out. “I hope the boys haven’t made themselves a nuisance.”

“Not at all, ma’am.” He shook her hand, noting the soft skin on the back of her hand couldn’t hide the calluses on her palm. “Welcome to Oak Grove.”

“Thank you,” she answered softly, sincerely. “Thank you very much.”

Not quite ready to let go of her hand, he tugged her toward the table. Up close he noticed how unique her eyes were. They held no distinct color, but a mixture of gray, green and brown, and a light appeared in them as she bowed her head slightly.

With a timid smile, she said, “The fish smells wonderful.”

He couldn’t smell anything but flowers. Sweet-smelling flowers that gave off such a wonderful scent all he wanted to do was breathe it in.

“I bet it tastes just as good too.”

Brought back from fields of flowers by little Rhett’s voice, Brett let go of her hand to pull out the chair. “Let’s eat while it’s hot,” he said. “Otherwise, it’ll start to stink.” Giving Fiona a friendly wink, he added, “Fish is like that.”

Fiona pinched her lips to keep from giggling as the big man took his seat at the end of the table beside her. He was so friendly, so kind, her insides were practically dancing. This was the kind of welcome she’d hoped her sons would experience. Something that would assure them they were welcome here. That their lives would forever be changed, forever be better than they’d been back in Ohio. If only Josiah Melbourne had been so welcoming to her and her sons. He’d been more concerned that she and the children wouldn’t behave appropriately—and had gone so far as to write a list of things they could do and things they could not do. She’d nearly gnawed the end off her tongue while forcing herself to remain tolerant. And silent. As he’d suggested. Until she’d seen the boys encounter the blacksmith.

Josiah had stopped her on the way out the door, insisting that Brett Blackwell was harmless and would keep the boys busy while he and she continued to discuss their arrangement. A discussion she’d feared would never end. Her first impression of Josiah hadn’t improved much, and she was already afraid she’d made a mistake in coming to Kansas.

She’d thanked whatever lucky stars she might have left when Josiah had finally taken his leave, only to remember she didn’t have anything to feed them for supper. Arriving at Brett Blackwell’s open back door and seeing her boys seated at the table full of food had been enough to bring tears to her eyes. But it had been his charm, the way he’d coaxed her into believing he truly wanted to share this meal with them, that had broken through the tough exterior she’d tried to hold in place.

He was right, the children were hungry, and thankfully he hadn’t questioned why she hadn’t had any other plans of how to feed them this evening. He couldn’t possibly know how much this meal meant to her right now.

“Thank you,” she said while taking the platter of fish fried to a golden brown. After forking the smallest piece onto her plate, she passed the platter on to Wyatt. Brett then handed her another platter full of fried eggs. There had to be more than a dozen. She took one, the smallest, and then passed that platter on to Wyatt, as well.

As Rhett, who now had the fish platter, slid a third piece of fish onto his plate, she opened her mouth to tell him that was enough, but a large hand gently touched her wrist.

“There’s too much here for me to eat, so you boys best eat until you’re too full to swallow another bite,” Brett said.

He removed his hand from her arm and, with a nod, gestured for everyone to start eating. The boys needed no more encouragement than that, and as Fiona watched them begin eating with gusto, her own stomach flipped. She swallowed hard against the sensation that sent a lump into her throat. When she’d mentioned to Josiah that her sons were hungry, that they hadn’t eaten since last night, he’d interrupted her to point out that if it had just been her on the train, she would have had three meals a day.

Anger had flared inside her, yet at that moment, she’d never felt more trapped. Mr. Melbourne had paid for their accommodations, and she had no means to reimburse him, so she’d forced herself to once again remain silent. Furthermore, in a moment when she’d believed there had been no other option, she’d given him her word that she would marry him. Therefore, she would. She had never gone back on her word and wouldn’t now. Her children needed to know remaining true to one’s word, although sometimes difficult, was the right way. The only way.

“Eat,” Brett said quietly. “Before it gets cold.”

She nodded, and though each bite swelled in her throat, she forced it down and took the next one. Just as she would each and every obstacle that came her way. Eventually it would get easier.

At least that was her hope.

When her plate was empty, she set down her fork. Within seconds, Brett handed her the platter that remarkably still held several pieces of fish. It made her think of Jesus feeding the masses, and that was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She hadn’t asked for a miracle, yet it appeared one was happening. With tears stinging her eyes, she shook her head.

“You haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive,” Brett said, sliding two more pieces of fish onto her plate. He then added two more eggs to her plate before holding the plate over the center of the table. “Anyone else need more?”

Both boys eagerly accepted the offer, and the man, whose booming voice could startle birds from the trees in the next state, laughed so softly, she may have been the only one to hear it.

When little more than crumbs sat on all the plates and platters circling the table, Fiona said, “I do believe that was the best fish I’ve ever eaten.”

“Me too,” Rhett agreed. “I didn’t even know I liked fish that much.”

Laughter, including hers, filled the room. As it settled, Fiona set her napkin on the table. “Mr. Blackwell, we can’t thank you enough for this fine meal. Therefore, I do hope you won’t mind when I insist upon doing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” he said while shaking his head.

“I believe it is,” she said. “And I insist.”

He jumped to his feet to pull her chair back as she prepared to stand. Hoping he understood that she had to repay him in some way, she looked up to meet his gaze.

There was tenderness in his blue eyes, but there was something more, something she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen before, but an inner, almost foreign instinct said it was respect.

“I will allow you to help with the dishes,” he said. “I’ve been doing them for so long, I’d feel lazy watching you do them all by yourself.”

“Well, I guess that’s fair,” she said, rising to her feet.

“We’ll help,” Wyatt offered.

Lately, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to feel pride, or be proud of her sons, but she was proud at this moment. The table was cleared in no time, and with her permission, the boys went outside to play. After scraping some soap into the tub of warm water, she started washing the dishes and, upon his insistence, handed them to Brett to dry and put away.

“I—uh—I’m sorry about your husband,” he said when the silence grew a bit thick.

“Thank you,” she said out of courtesy but then broached the subject she’d been contemplating since finding the boys at his house. “I can only imagine what my sons told you.”

“Nothing bad,” Brett said. “Just that their father had died and that you came here to marry Josiah Melbourne because some church lady told you to.”

“That about sums it up,” she admitted.

“Sounds to me like that woman needs to listen to what the preacher’s preaching.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “That may be true, but it was what we needed—the boys and I. A fresh start.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, don’t you have any family?”

“No. My parents died when I was young.”

“Who’d you live with, then?”

“My aunt and uncle. They had several of their own children and were very glad when I married Sam.” She bit the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t like her to blurt out such personal information. If she hadn’t stopped herself, she would have told him she and her sons wouldn’t have been any more welcome with her aunt and uncle now than she had been twenty years ago.

“How old were you when you married your husband?”

“Seventeen. I thought I was old enough. Thought I knew what I wanted.” Grabbing another plate, she clamped her back teeth together. One meal shouldn’t make her feel as if she needed to share her entire life story. She must be overly tired and not thinking straight. Or nervous. Being alone with him had heightened her senses. She could feel him moving about to return the dishes to their rightful places. Knew the exact moment he stepped closer to her again. Like right now. Beneath the wash water, she squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

“Oak Grove is a good town,” he said. “You’ll like it once you get to know everyone.”

“I hope so,” she said. “The boys need a place where they feel welcome.” That was better. What the children needed wasn’t a hidden secret.

“We all do,” he said. “Big or little.”

“That’s true.”

“That had to take a lot of guts,” he said. “Courage, I mean. For all of you. Moving away from Ohio.”

He was obviously as nervous as she was, and the idea of that—of a man his size, so capable of so many things, being uneasy—made her grin. Only because in some silly, unfathomable way, it made her relax a bit. “I wouldn’t call it courage,” she said.

“I would. That’s what it takes. Some folks spend their whole lives wishing things would change but never once realize they have to do something to make them change.”

She handed him the last pan and then walked to the table to wipe it down. “You say that like you’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“I have, more than once.”

The thoughtfulness of his tone had her turning around. He merely grinned before turning around to put the pan in the cupboard. Her heart skipped a beat and the swelling in her throat made her swallow, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything to say, even though she’d like to know more. She wanted to know why a man so kindhearted, successful and handsome wasn’t married. Were the women in this town blind? His back was to her, and even that was so fit, so muscular and shapely in how it narrowed from broad, thick shoulders to a trim waist, it awakened that feminine and primal part deep inside her that hadn’t been awakened in a long time. A very long time.

She had to swallow again as he turned about, and tightened her leg muscles to keep her from wobbling.

“I’ll go dump this water,” he said, picking up the tub.

Heart thudding, it was a moment before she trusted her legs to work. Then she crossed the room and draped the cloth over the edge of the counter. “I—I’ll collect the boys. It’s getting late, and...” Unable to think of more to say, she nodded. “Thank you again for the meal.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

Drawing another deep breath, trying to quell the awakening that continued to grow, she hurried out the door.

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 that.

No one had been more shocked by what had happened than she was. Sam had never stooped to such dire actions before. Things had never been easy, money had always been tight, but they’d managed. Somehow they had always managed. Losing his job at the refinery the year before had devastated Sam. Changed him. In ways she couldn’t explain, nor had she liked who he’d become. Always angry. Always blaming others for things that truly hadn’t mattered. Including her and the boys.

She swiped aside a single tear and drew a deep breath. “Your father was not a thief. He made a mistake. A terrible mistake. One he paid dearly for. You go to sleep now. And no more talking about jobs.”

Fiona felt more than heard Wyatt roll over, face away from the bed, and she had to pinch her nose to stop from sniffling as tears rolled down her cheeks. A part of her hated Sam for the pain he’d caused them. Her and Wyatt and Rhett. And for the disgrace they’d encountered. The hatred and scorn that had been bestowed upon them had been unbearable. Leaving Ohio had been the best choice, her only choice, and without Josiah’s offer, without his paying for the tickets, it would never have happened. If for no other reason than that, she would stand by her promise and marry Josiah Melbourne.

* * *

As usual, Brett rose at the break of dawn and set a pot of coffee to brew on the stove. It was Sunday, and the few chores he had to do—feeding and cleaning up after the team of horses he used to pull his wagon and kept housed in the barn connected to his blacksmith shop—wouldn’t take long. Never did. He missed having more to do in the mornings. Back home there had been cows to milk, hogs to slop, eggs to gather, chicks to feed, water to haul. All sorts of things. There was room in his barn and on his property to have more critters, but seeing he didn’t need them with just him to feed, he figured he’d wait until he had a family before acquiring anything more than the set of buckskin horses.

After pouring a cup of coffee, he glanced around the room and sighed. Washing dishes had never been something he enjoyed. It was just a chore that needed to be done, but last night it had been more than a task. Drying the dishes while Fiona washed them had been enjoyable. Even though he wondered if he’d asked too many questions, especially when he’d enquired about her husband. He hadn’t meant to pry but had been curious and had wanted to know more about her. Still did.

If he breathed deep enough, he could almost smell flowers again. And looking at her, well, that in itself was enjoyable. Especially when she smiled. It was like watching a bird take flight, gracefully opening its wings to catch the wind. Despite how beautiful her smile had been, it seemed almost rusty. Like she hadn’t used it very often. If he could change one thing about her, that would be it. Actually, that was the only thing that needed to be changed about her—her smile. It needed to become well used. Never leave her face.

Maybe he could ask them over for supper again tonight. That had made her smile last night, and having her and Rhett and Wyatt sitting at his table had given him more joy than he’d experienced in a long time. Those boys had been hungry, and even though she’d tried to pretend that she hadn’t been, she had been hungry too. Watching her eat, he’d wished he’d made more than just fish and eggs.

Their arrival should have been celebrated with a full meal. A fancy one, complete with dessert. That thought caused a knot to twist in the center of his stomach. As soon as he figured Josiah would be awake, he’d pay the man a visit. There were several questions rolling around in his head. Questions Josiah needed to answer.

With his thoughts trailing straight back to Fiona, Brett carried his cup of coffee outside and walked around the corner of his house, to where he could see the little city-owned house. As he stood there, staring across the area covered with grass that wouldn’t turn green again until it rained, he wondered what had happened to make Fiona agree to become Josiah’s wife. She was a sensible woman and didn’t seem like the type to take up with Josiah. Then again, she most likely hadn’t known exactly what Josiah was like when she agreed to marry him.

The front door of the house opened, and Fiona emerged, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders before pulling the door closed behind her. She was wearing the same dress as yesterday, but her hair was loose. Long and brown, it flowed over her shoulders, down her back, fluttering in the wind as she walked down the two steps and then made her way toward the outhouse.

Giving her privacy, or perhaps because he didn’t want to be seen staring at her, Brett turned and walked around the corner of his house. Taking a sip of his coffee made another thought form. The boys had said there wasn’t any food in the house they’d rented. At that thought, he entered his house, collected a clean cup and filled it with coffee. He then grabbed the handle of his egg basket. There were only six left, but that should be enough to hold Fiona and the boys over until the mercantile opened.

Outside again, Brett peered around the corner until he saw Fiona walking back toward the house, and then he hurried in that direction.

“Good morning,” he greeted, stopping her before she could open the front door.

Turning about, she released the hold she had on the doorknob. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Blackwell.”

Her voice was soft, and he tried to lower his as he stepped closer, understanding the boys were still sleeping. “I brought you some coffee and some eggs. The mercantile doesn’t open until eight.”

The small smile on her lips didn’t falter, but something about her did, and he wondered why. “The coffee is still hot,” he said. Plenty of people didn’t like cold coffee. Plenty of people didn’t like coffee. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea.”

She shook her head slightly. “I prefer coffee, thank you, but I—”

“Here.” He handed her the extra cup. Thinking of last night when he’d had to coax her into eating, he then set the basket on the top step. “Do you have a minute?”

“Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes, but we have to hurry.”

She frowned but nodded. “All right.”

He would like to have taken her hand but settled for gesturing for her to walk alongside him. They walked around the side of the house so they were facing east. The land was flat all the way to where it met the sky, which was turning from pink to orange.

Stopping, he took a sip of coffee and watched out the side of his eye as she did the same. Without looking her way, he said, “Last night, I told you tomorrow would be a new day. Well, I thought you might like to watch it appear.”

“Oh, my,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

“You don’t like watching the sun rise?” he asked, surprised. He thought everyone enjoyed watching the sun slowly creep into the sky.

She shook her head, then nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever watched one before.”

“Never watched a sunrise?”

“No.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess I never had time. Or maybe I thought others would believe it was a waste of time.”

He thought that might be the saddest thing he’d ever heard. “It doesn’t take long,” he said. “And it’s worth it.”

Glancing down at the cup she held with both hands, she nodded before looking back up at him and smiling softly.

“Considering this will be your first full day in Oak Grove, I can’t think of a better way for you to start it.”

“I can’t either.” Her gaze shifted, straight ahead, to the center point where the earth met the sky.

A small hump of yellow had formed and was pushing the orange glow higher. They stood there, silently, sipping their coffee and watching as the yellow continued to rise and form a half circle that slowly grew into a majestic ball with a center so bright it looked white.

As happened every morning, yet still a miracle in itself, the sun soon rose completely above the ground, shooting its glorious rays in all directions. Then slowly, yet too fast to actually define precisely how or when, the sky in all directions turned a crystal clear blue. He’d seen many sunrises, but this one seemed to be the most beautiful one ever.

Hearing her sigh, Brett glanced her way. The full smile on her lips made his insides rise as gently as the sun just had.

“That was beautiful. Simply beautiful.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to look directly at him. “Thank you.”

In all his years he’d never suddenly been struck with a want so strongly, but right now he wanted to pull her into his arms to hug her. And kiss her.

Not sure how to make those desires disappear, he took a step back and glanced toward her house. After clearing the lump from his throat, he said, “Those boys of yours will be hungry again this morning. Boys always are. They’ll want to start exploring Oak Grove too.”

“How do you know so much about boys?”

“Because I was one,” he said. “And I had several brothers. Seven actually. Four older and three younger.”

“Your poor mother—she must have had her hands full.”

“She did, but she also had a broom and wasn’t afraid to use it on any one of us.” Memories of home made him smile. “I guarantee none of us wanted to make her mad enough to use it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

He couldn’t stop a short bout of laughter. “You’ve only heard a part of it. You see, if any one of us got Ma mad enough to use the broom, that meant Pa would use the belt on us for making Ma so mad.”

“Oh, my.”

“For the most part, she didn’t use that broom for nothing but sweeping up the mud we hauled in on our boots, and Pa didn’t use that belt for anything but holding up his britches.”

“Learned early, did you?”

He winked one eye. “About the same time I learned to walk.”

Her giggle was soft, but the sparkle in her eyes said he hadn’t imagined it. He nodded toward the house. “You got two good boys in there, ma’am. Plenty to be proud of. Polite and well behaved.”

She nodded and started walking toward the house. “Thank you. I sincerely hope they behaved yesterday, and I apologize again for their arriving so unannounced. For myself too.”

“I won’t accept any apologizing. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

They rounded the house and she held up her cup while stopping near the steps. “Thank you for the coffee and the sunrise. You’ve made my—our arrival something we’ll never forget.”

Sensing there was more behind her words, things he shouldn’t press her on, Brett gestured toward the basket on the back stoop. “I gotta go see to my horses, but if you need something to go along with those eggs, feel free to take what you need from my kitchen. The door’s open.”

“The eggs are more than enough, Mr. Blackwell, thank you.” She then glanced at her cup, which was still half-full.

“The pot’s on the stove,” he said while turning about. “Help yourself to more coffee if you want.” Although he knew she wouldn’t help herself to more coffee or anything else, he wished she would. His heart was lighter this morning than it had been in a long time. A very long time. Because of her.

As he walked past his house, he set his cup on the porch rail and then headed over to feed his horses. It was during that time, while forking hay into the corral, that he realized the mercantile wouldn’t be open today. Most every business in town observed the Sabbath. The town had passed a special ordinance for a few to be open, mainly Rollie Austin’s hotel and eatery.

Brett set the pitchfork aside and then walked around the lean-to that held his forge. Wally Brown, who oversaw the feed store for the most part while Brett saw to the blacksmithing, usually gave the horses their grain, but not on Sundays. Besides working for him, Wally worked for the livery. He had living quarters in the barn loft over there and kept an eye on things overnight.

Brett unlocked the front door and, once inside, walked directly to the window that faced his house, and Fiona’s a short distance farther away. He’d watched the sun rise with many people over the years. Family. Men he worked with at home and on the railroad. Friends while hunting. Companions while traveling. Yet never once had he appreciated sharing one more than he had with her this morning. It wasn’t just because he’d had someone standing beside him. It was because it had been Fiona. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.

If she was one of the women from Ohio the Betterment Committee had paid to come to Kansas, Fiona didn’t have to marry Josiah. She should have the opportunity to get to know all the men who’d contributed, including him.

Except he wasn’t in the running any longer, was he? Not if his mother sent him a bride. Maybe he should go see Teddy, have him send another telegram.

Turning away from the window, he crossed the space and sat down at his desk. His mother may not have gotten his first telegram yet. That was doubtful. One specifically for her would have been delivered minutes after it arrived.

There wasn’t a whole lot he could do about that, but he could talk to Josiah and find out exactly how Fiona had come to agree to marry him.

No longer caring if Josiah was up or not, Brett exited the building, locked the door and headed up the street.

A peaceful quiet filled the streets, and as he walked past, he noticed a sign in the hotel’s window that said the eatery was closed until after church this morning.

Josiah’s law office was two doors down from the hotel. Like many other business owners in town, Josiah lived in the quarters above his office. Even before he built his buildings, Brett had been thinking about the time when he’d have a family. Not wanting them to live above a feed store, he’d gone ahead and ordered enough lumber for a house as well as the feed store and blacksmith shop.

Brett walked past the law office door with Josiah’s name painted on it, turned the corner and then walked around to the back of the building, where he promptly knocked on the back door.

He knocked a second time before hearing movement inside the house, and then someone telling him to hold his horses.

It wasn’t his horses he was trying to hold on to. His temper was rising far quicker than normal.

Josiah pulled aside the curtain to peek through the glass before he opened the door. “What are you doing here at this time in the morning?” Josiah asked, pulling open the door.

“We need to talk,” Brett said, stepping over the threshold, forcing Josiah to step back in the process.

Straightening his vest, pulling it down over his thick waist once he’d caught his footing from jumping backward, Josiah asked, “About what?”

“Fiona Goldberg,” Brett said, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Josiah’s face and neck reddened. “Mrs. Goldberg and her sons aren’t any of your business.”

Fighting had never been Brett’s way. He always figured it wouldn’t be fair. He was much bigger and stronger than most men. However, using that size and strength for his own good, or the good of others, now and again didn’t bother him. He took a step closer and laid both hands on Josiah’s shoulders. Looking down upon the much shorter man, he said, “As I see it, she is my business. Any bride from Ohio is fair game to any one of us who donated to the committee.”

It was July, and the morning air was warming quickly, but not so much that sweat should be trickling down the mayor’s face. Josiah pulled out a kerchief and wiped his forehead. “Fi—Mrs. Goldberg is not one of the brides the committee ordered. She came upon hard times and contacted me personally, offering to be my bride. I agreed. Therefore, she is mine and mine alone.”

Brett wasn’t certain he believed Josiah, but he had no reason not to. Especially since just yesterday he’d taken it upon himself to order his own bride. Irritated by that as much as everything else, he said, “Seems to me you aren’t treating your wife-to-be very well. You left her and those little boys alone to fend for themselves last evening.”

“I promised her some time to get to know me,” Josiah said. “Something only a gentleman such as myself would know about.”

If there was any man in town who considered himself a gentleman, it was Josiah. Brett removed his hands and stepped back.

Josiah pocketed his kerchief. “I was just getting ready to walk over and check on them. See if they need anything.”

Torn as to how much he should and shouldn’t say about Fiona and her sons eating at his place last night, the air left Brett’s chest with a huff.

“There will be other brides arriving, soon, Brett,” Josiah said. “You’ll have a chance at one of them.”

Not wanting the mayor to know that wasn’t his greatest concern, Brett asked, “When?”

“I can’t say for sure, but my friend, who is the mayor in Bridgewater, Ohio, is gathering them up as we speak. He’ll notify me as soon as they are ready.”

“You’ve been saying that for a month,” Brett pointed out. “And for two months before that you promised there would be a dozen women.”

“There will be. This sort of thing takes time.”

Brett let the frustration inside him ease out on a long breath. “Folks are getting tired of waiting.”

“I know,” Josiah said, “and I’m working on bringing in all twelve brides as promised. Now, I really must head over to see Fiona before church this morning.” He took a couple steps sideways and pulled open the door.

With little else he could say or do, Brett nodded and left.

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