Freedom For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 2) (4 page)

“What? That’s can’t be true, we’ve written a few letters, I have them right here,” Nathaniel said, the distress coloring his voice. He reached into an inside pocket of his heavy coat and pulled out a few pages. By the looks of them, he’d read them over and over in anticipation of finally meeting his bride. Instead, he held them up almost as evidence. “See? Look right here. There’s her name at the bottom and everything.”

Moira and Pryor peered at the letters, and sure enough, it was as Nathaniel said. The chunky script, the same as the handwriting on the letter Moira had just read, filled several pages before ending with Ekaterina’s name in the closing.

“Is it possible someone wrote the letters for her? And read your letters to her?” Pryor asked, casting a quick warning glance at his wife. He needn’t have silenced her, as she would never have told anyone that he’d needed the same courtesy when he wrote off for a wife. She’d been working with him more on learning his letters now that the winter season gave them more time indoors, but there was no time or energy to study more when chores called throughout the rest of the year.

“I ‘spose that could be,” he answered slowly, disappointment clear on his face. Gone were his hopes of having a friendly companion to keep him company. Instead, he was faced with a woman who might as well not have been able to speak at all, such was the difference between them.

Moira was the one to recover first. She squared her shoulders and forced a broad smile on her face before turning the Ekaterina. She took the young woman’s hand and linked it through her arm, then said slowly, “Welcome to New Hope, Miss Noryeva.”

“Katia,” the woman said in a shy, but melodious voice. She looked down as she spoke, but peeked up for Moira’s approval after telling them her name.

“Oh, Katia then! And please call me Moira,” she said brightly, enunciating her name and feeling hopeful for the first time in this uncomfortable meeting. She made introductions, pointing to her own husband and introducing him simply as “Mac,” as that was how Nathaniel called him, then pointing at Nathaniel and gesturing between the two of them as she spoke his name slowly several times.

Katia risked a glance at Nathaniel, her dark eyes finally locking with his. She smiled in the briefest way, barely a movement at the corners of her mouth, but it was enough to melt Nathaniel’s heart and give him the slightest feeling of optimism. He started to reach a hand toward her in greeting but remembered how skittish she’d been of Moira’s handshake, but he was unable to keep from grinning like a fool when she eventually held out her own hand to him.

The four of them headed toward Jorgenson’s shop and Nathaniel jumped forward to hold the door open for Katia, pointing above her to tell her to watch her head as she entered the low building, built down into the ground to conserve heat. They looked through the wares quietly, and Pryor shook his head slightly at the shopkeeper when he asked if they’d forgotten anything from their earlier purchases.

“Mr. Jorgenson, this is Miss Noryeva,” Nathaniel began proudly. “She’s just arrived on the train, and I wanted to show her around.”

Jorgenson smiled at her and began to speak, but his words trailed off when he saw the lack of comprehension on her face. He turned to Nathaniel, who simply returned his pleasant but blank expression.

Moira began leading Katia around the shop but purposely dropped back to join Pryor when Nathaniel stepped forward and held up various goods for the young woman’s inspection. She smiled much and let her fingertips brush against several of the items he held up, but she shook her head whenever he indicated he would get them.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Pryor whispered to his wife when they pretended to busy themselves at a display of cutlery.

“What do you mean?” Moira asked in a low voice, sneaking glances at Nathaniel and Katia over her shoulder. “They seem to be getting on well.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. She can’t even speak? How do we know she’s supposed to be here? She might have gotten off the train in the wrong town, for all we know.”

“No, the letter stated that she was to meet Mr. Russell in New Hope. So at least she’s the right body to be here.”

“But what if she doesn’t know why she’s here? What if she’s like you—”

Moira interrupted. “No, Pryor, that can’t be the same situation. I was tricked into coming here by my uncle’s plans, but no one forced me onto the train. She seems happy enough to have arrived.”

“Well, what if she’s just some girl that the new tavern owner ordered?” he asked, a flush of mortification instantly flooding his face at having spoken that way to his own wife. Moira shook her head.

“I’ll disremember that you said those words about her, Mr. MacAteer,” she stated firmly, pressing her lips into a thin line and using his surname to show her displeasure. He hung his head in further shame and muttered an apology.

They set off toward the wagon together, Moira pointing to the wagon box for Katia. Moira climbed in first with her husband’s help and offered her hands to the young woman, indicating it was allowed to let the men help her step up. Katia settled next to Moira on the fresh straw and looked around nervously at the tiny village that was to become her new home.

During the long, bouncy ride to Moira’s own cabin—nestled on the claim that she owned outright before marrying Pryor, now standing empty and to become Katia’s home until she chose to marry—Moira attempted to make conversation with Katia through gestures and pencil drawings on the large sack of cornmeal Pryor had purchased in town. Katia smiled and sometimes nodded , but mostly, she looked confused, possibly even a little fearful at the distance they traveled. In every direction, Montana’s frozen plains stretched out until they reached the mountains or the far off horizon. From a newcomer’s perspective, Moira remembered, it was much like being adrift in the middle of the endless ocean, isolated and untraceable.

When they finally reached Moira’s cabin, recently finished thanks to Pryor’s determination to have it suitable before Nathaniel’s future wife would arrive, Moira and Katia climbed down and went inside, waving from the porch as Pryor called out, “I’ll bring Gretchen and Matthew along shortly!”

Moira led the way into the small but cozy cabin, pointing to the nightstand beside the wide bed for Katia to put her one traveling bag. She took Katia’s coat and shawls and hung them on the wooden pegs behind the door, then set to work making a fire in the fireplace. There was no cast iron stove as no one lived in this house permanently, but Pryor had made sure there was plenty of firewood stacked on the porch and more nestled in a neat wall alongside the close side of the barn. Moira filled the kettle from the bucket of freshly drawn water, heating it for coffee against the chill of the house.

While Moira worked, Katia stood in the middle of the room, looking around and feeling very much out of place. She observed the house around her, the little touches that made it home for whoever would live there, no matter how long or how temporary things may be.

A short time later, the sound of an approaching wagon and team of horses made both women instinctively look out. Nathaniel drove this time, while Gretchen sat in the back, a bundle held close to her chest. When they finally came to a stop, the maid didn’t need Nathaniel’s help climbing down as Moira was already beside the wagon, reaching for her son. Gretchen passed the baby to his mother with a smile, knowing how Moira must have missed him all day. She jumped down on her own and followed mother and child into the cabin, leaving Nathaniel to stand in the yard rather awkwardly, holding his hat in his hands at having been in the company of not one, but three ladies.

“You must as stay here, Mr. Russell,” Gretchen ordered in a voice that would have stopped a kitchen servant in her tracks, a voice she’d only just learned to employ with unruly customers in Jorgenson’s shop. “I’m sorry for the cold, but Mrs. Pryor will have a need to feed the baby, it’s not fitting.”

“Oh, no, I would never… I mean, no, there’s no need of me coming inside…” Even in the near dark, the red flush that colored his face up to the roots of his blond hair was evident, but the ladies were too mannerly to say anything more. Gretchen and Moira carried Matthew inside while Katia stood at the porch rail and looked out at the property.

“Good evening,” he said kindly, watching Katia’s face for any hint of reaction. She smiled and nodded her head once upon hearing a term she was at least familiar with. Nathaniel looked around, fidgeting as he fought to find something else to say, but was at a loss. He nodded at Katia and turned to go, but stopped and turned back hopefully when he heard a sound.

It was only the cabin door closing firmly shut behind her.

Nathaniel finally put his team in the barn. He watered his horses and fed them from the store of oats that Pryor kept on the place for livestock that passed through, then fetched his bedroll from his wagon and spread it out on a pile of hay.

Gretchen came out just as he was hanging the lantern on its hook from the rafter. She peered through the crack in the barn doors cautiously as she held out a plate of supper and a tin of buttermilk.

“Mr. Russell? I’ve brought your supper. I’ll just put it out here,” she called without stepping inside. He heard her rustling with the door as she tried to move a crate over to hold the dishes. Instead, he jumped up and threw open the door, startling her so badly, she nearly fell backward in her haste to get away.

“Miss O’Brien? Don’t go, I’m sorry I scared you. I just didn’t know if Mrs. MacAteer meant to head home tonight or not, so I didn’t leave. How’s my… how’s Miss Noryeva?” he asked hopefully, remembering his manners at the last minute.

“She’s fine, sir,” Gretchen answered, looking uncomfortable. “I mean, so far as I can tell without speaking to her, of course. She seems quite content, and amicable. She’s quite helpful in the house and skilled in the kitchen, so do naw let that worry you. She prepared your supper, to be honest.”

Nathaniel brightened considerably. “Do you think she… likes me?” he asked hesitantly, knowing full well that Gretchen couldn’t possibly know the woman’s mind when she couldn’t speak it plainly. The maid smiled genuinely.

“I can naw be sure, you know, but she seems rather glad to be here. She’s quiet, of course, and seems somewhat withdrawn, but I attribute that to a long journey by train. I’ve made that same journey myself, and I do naw feel the least bit ashamed of admitting it was quite difficult and entirely exhausting. I’m sure that’s all ‘tis wrong.”

“I hope you’re right,” Nathaniel mumbled, more to reassure himself than anything else. “I mean, I’m sure of it. I’m sure you’re right.”

“I know that I am,” she said with a comforting smile. “Give her time, the girl has only just stepped off the train. It must be so horribly disorienting to arrive in a place such as this when you are from so foreign a land. I remember it well, and I at least had the advantage of knowing how to speak the tongue. I can naw imagine how fearful it must be to feel so lost.”

Nathaniel looked embarrassed at having been so lovesick only a matter of hours after meeting his wife for the first time. He felt he shouldn’t be so smitten right away, and certainly not in front of others, but he’d waited for Katia for so long that he felt he already knew her.

“Here. Eat your supper, and get your rest. You’ll feel better, you’ll see. Everything will be sorted out by morning, and you’ll laugh at yourself for feeling so forlorn tonight. If you wish to head home in the morning, I’ll rouse Miss Noryeva to see you off if you’ll be so kind as to send Mr. MacAteer for his wife when you go.”

She nodded her head in acknowledgment and turned back to the cabin, leaving Nathaniel to his sleep and his misery.

The next morning dawned brutally cold but sunny in much the way that Gretchen had predicted. In some ways, Nathaniel was as bitter as the temperature. What right did the sun have to shine so brightly when he was so miserable? He had put all his hope in these correspondences over the past few months, and the letters from Katia—letters that he’d assumed were from Katia, he realized—had made the Montana winter all the more bearable.

Instead, the letters had been filled with lies. Even if the sentiments had been true or her feelings about meeting him and marrying him were genuine, the words had all belonged to someone else, and that was just as bad as pretending in his book. All the promises of wanting to be a frontier wife, of longing for land and wide open spaces, all the talk of wanting to marry a decent, hard-working man and raising a family with him… how could he be sure those were really Katia’s wishes? What if all of that had been someone else’s thoughts, meant to lure him into signing on for a wife?

Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel cheated. True, Katia had arrived just as promised, but there was little else about the silent woman that carried the ring of truth to it.

But also as Gretchen had assured him, today was a new day like any other. There were chores to be done in his place, and he still had to go to Mac’s property and pass along the message to send for Mrs. MacAteer and Matthew.

The thought nearly made him weep. Mac had it all, even if it hadn’t all gone according to plan the first time around. He had a thriving homestead that was nearly completed, and would belong to him outright in a matter of months. The wife he wrote off for hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected, but it had turned out all right in the end just the same. And now, of course, that wife had not only given him a healthy son, but she’d turned out to be a suitable help for Mac. She was no slugabed who laid around all day, or kept to the house and feigned weakness just because she’d had a child. She was already up and about, despite their child only being a month old. That was a woman who could be a help to a man with acres and acres of frontier land to farm, that was for sure!

Nathaniel shook off the dark thoughts that were putting him in a bad humor that morning. Lying in the barn and feeling morose would not get the day moving, as he knew all too well. All he could do was keep a good thought in his mind and carry hope in his heart about this turn of events. There would be plenty of time for bitter sorrow once he knew for sure that the woman who’d barely looked at him, let alone spoken to him, was done with him.

When he finally stepped outside, he found a plate covered with a cloth, and beneath the cloth were a couple of biscuits, some smoked fish from the creek, and two boiled eggs. The empty tin cup beside it told him there would be coffee inside the cabin, but he surmised he’d have to have it on the porch again, what with all the ladies and small babe inside the house.

He climbed the wooden porch steps and knocked on the door, but immediately took a seat in one of the rocking chairs Pryor had carved for Moira. The feel of the smooth hand rests caused him more ache than comfort, as their smooth sheen told him they were lovingly wrought for a woman who wouldn’t even have much use of them out here. He sat up straighter when the door opened, expecting Gretchen to come outside with the pot of steaming coffee. Remembering his manners, he nearly jumped out of the chair and down the porch steps and was taken off guard when it was Katia who stood framed in the doorway, closing the door behind her.

They eyed each other for a moment, neither one looking away. They held their gazes and each hoped fervently for some kind of understanding or recognition to pass between them, the kind that doesn’t need words, only respect, and care.

“Ch… chair,” Katia said, pointing to the matching pair of oak rockers on Moira’s cabin porch. She held out her arm toward them and waited. Nathaniel was slow to recognize the word as she spoke it and was elated when he finally figured out she was inviting him to sit with her. He laughed lightly to himself and climbed the steps, settling into a chair just in time to see Katia disappear into the house.

Just as he was making up his mind whether or not to leave, she returned with her arms laden with blankets. She passed a quilt to Nathaniel before settling into the other chair with her own wrap, sliding the chair a respectable distance away from this strange man. She happily rocked in silence, leaving Nathaniel to wonder how this would ever work. He had no need to fret for long.

“Name?” Katia said, using one of the few words she’d picked up since her arrival in America. She patted herself and repeated the name she’d given them at the train, her full name, not the nickname she’d offered to take the place of her Russian name.

“Nathaniel Russell,” he replied, realizing too late that it had all come out in a nervous rush that probably didn’t sound like a distinguishable word to the foreigner. “I’m sorry, I mean to say… Nah-than-yell Russ-ell.”

He repeated the syllables several times for Katia, but each time she tried to mimic the sounds, the inflection or the pronunciation was off. She blew out a frustrated breath that fluttered the hair above her high forehead, the long, straight wisps standing on end for only a second before settling back against her smooth skin.

“I’ve got it!” he cried. “Yell!”

“Yell?” Katia repeated, shaking her head from her lack of understanding. This new word wasn’t one she’d come across before. But Nathaniel nodded encouragingly.

“That’s it! Yell! I’m Yell!” he said eagerly, patting his chest before pointing back and forth between them. “Katia, Yell. You’re Katia, and I’ll be Yell!”

Moira poked her head out once to see what the commotion was about, but when she saw the two of them sitting together in the rockers, laughing and almost talking, she quickly darted back inside and closed the door. She and Gretchen stifled their nervous giggles, both of them secretly thrilling at the way things could turn out.