Page 2 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes
There was nothing for her to do but go inside and inquire after Flint March.
Her footsteps echoed on the wooden planks. A breeze carried scents of horseflesh and smoke to her. Familiar aromas did nothing to still her jittering heart.
Susie hung back, tugging on her arm. “We go home now?”
“Soon. I promise.” Though whether to the home she’d counted on or something else entirely remained to be seen. The dreams she’d built of a loving place to live, of acceptance for both herself and Susie, fluttered in the wind. Questions she’d struggled with since making this decision returned to her mind. Would Flint welcome her and Rowena’s daughter? Or would he be angry that Rowena had chosen another? Would he resent the child? Would Brynlee be judged— accepted or rejected— because of her relationship to Rowena? At that point, she’d made a decision to not reveal her connection to Rowena. There was no need for him to know. She’d long ago taken the surname of her maternal grandparents, so it was easy to use the same for Susie. Susan Faraday.
The door to the waiting room stood ajar and she stepped into the grayness of the space. The street-side door opened. The bright square of light left her momentarily blinded.
“Mornin’, Arnold. Any passengers get off today?”
“Morning, Flint. Two men, a young woman, and a child.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction.
Brynlee barely heard the answer. Flint? This was the man she’d come to marry? The door closed behind him, and she brought him into focus. The first thing she noticed was his unmarred brown cowboy hat— had he bought it in honor of their plans? He tipped it back as he turned toward her. The sun caughthis face revealing pale eyes. Gray or washed-out blue. He’d given his age as between twenty-eight and thirty. She hoped it was toward the latter, so she wasn’t older than he. Many would be saying she was an old maid willing to marry anyone who offered. But not anyone. This was a man recommended by her sister.
He crossed toward them, his gait rolling. She’d heard it described as a cowboy’s gait.
“Miss Faraday?” A deep voice.
That reassured her to a degree. Both her father and Manfred had weak voices that shivered up and down her spine when they talked. Or more correctly, when they spoke to her. Or worse, when they spoke about her as if she wasn’t in the room.
“Yes.” She started to curtsy and then offered her hand instead, meeting his look directly.
“Flint March, at yer service. Pleased ta meet ya.” His gaze was direct and open before he slowly left off studying her to turn to Susie.
She drew in a breath that she hoped would steady her trembling nerves. It failed to help in any way.
“And this would be the child ya wrote about?” His interest seemed kind enough.
“Susan Faraday. Goes by Susie.” As Susie’s legal guardian, Bryn had decided it was easier to share her last name with the child. It was the surname of her maternal grandparents who had mostly raised her.
“Please ta meet ya, young Susie.” He offered her his hand, but she shrank behind Brynlee.
“She’s a mite shy.” Mostly around men. Would he find that objectionable? Like Manfred had.The child should stand up like…Everyone knew he meant like a man. Show a little confidence. Manfred would then pontificate about how boys were superior to girls in every way.
His remarks always made Brynlee want to argue, to defend females, but she’d learned long ago that men such as Manfred and her father talked about how women were inferior and weak, but should one stand up to them, they erupted into a righteous rage.
“Understandable.” Flint reached for the valise. “Ya have other things?”
“My trunk.” She pointed to it and followed him outside.
With a wave of his hand, he signaled the baggage attendant to help him carry it to the wagon that stood at street level. It was loaded and the three of them stood by awkward and uncertain.
“Let’s move along.” He lifted Susie to the seat before she could protest. Pink color flooded the child’s cheeks. She’d been surprised but also pleased by his help.
He offered Brynlee a hand to assist her to the wagon. Hopefully, he didn’t notice her hesitation. Nor how she scurried to arrange her skirts once she reached the bench. She couldn’t find enough saliva in her mouth to swallow. His touch had been strange, but not entirely unsettling. A strong hand. Work hardened, yet gentle.
The wagon dipped as he got up beside her, Susie between them. Brynlee wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders. Not so much to keep the little one safe, but because Susie was the only thing familiar.
They drove down the street, passing several businesses and the livery barn. To the right rose the steeple of a church, but he did not turn in that direction.
“Where are you taking us?” She managed to keep her words calm when inside fear sucked her hollow. What had she gotten herself into? And not just her. She had a little girl to protect.
The white church spire had shown signs of weathering. Yet it promised safety and sanctuary could be found beneath it. Could she hope to escape to its shelter?
Flint’s hands were relaxed on the reins. Quite the opposite of the way his insides fisted. He wanted this. Not just someone to cook his meals because he was always welcome to join his partner, Jayce, and Jayce’s wife, Addie. Addie herself was a mail-order bride. In fact, seeing how pleasant it was for Jayce had convinced Flint to make arrangements for himself.
He considered himself a calm man. Nothing from wild horses to snarling mountain lions rattled him. But sitting beside a woman who'd agreed to be his wife and a child who would surely bless their home certainly, and unexpectedly, had.
