Mail Order Devastation (Montana Mail Order Brides, Book 4) (5 page)

“
Hey!” Mollie nudged her away with her shoulder.  “Fine, I’ll tell you anything important, but I’m not reading the whole thing to you.”  She perused the letter in silence, and when she saw his answer to her question, her heart beat faster.  “He sent a ticket!”  She looked in the envelope, and around her on the bed quilt.  “He says he’s enclosing a ticket with this letter, but I don’t see it!”

“
I’ll find it!”  Chloe leapt off the bed and searched the floor, until she bent over and jumped up, holding something aloft in her hand.  “Found it!”

Mollie gasped in relief.  She must have been distracted by Chloe, and didn
’t see the ticket fall to the floor when she pulled out the letter.  “He sent it!”  She grabbed the ticket from Chloe’s hand, and read the date.  “It’s for January twelfth.”  She clutched the letter to her chest.

“
How long does it take to get to Montana?”

“
I’m told the trip takes nearly three weeks.”

“
Three weeks!  That’s forever!”

“
I know.  But after so many months of waiting…” she clutched the letter to her chest “…I could find Nell by February!”

“
I wish you could bring her home.”

Mollie put her arm around her sister. 
“I know.  Me too.” 
Except I don’t really have a home.  If I ever did, it stopped being my home the day my own mother stole my baby from me.

“
What else does the letter say?”

“
Oh!  I forgot to read the rest.”  She scanned the letter.  “He’s going to wire the expense money to me.  And he says he’s very excited about meeting me in person.”  Mollie could feel a blush creeping up her neck. 

“
Alright.  That’s all I need to know.  I don’t want to hear the mushy stuff!”  Chloe hopped off the bed and went back to her own, burying her nose in her book.

Mollie laughed. 
Would
there be any mushy stuff?  Would he like her?  Would he fall in love with her?  She shook her head, brushing the thought away.  She couldn’t afford the luxury of love.  All her love had to be reserved for her baby.  Without Nell, her heart felt empty and cold, like a dark, clammy basement. 

Until Nell was back in her arms, she didn
’t think she could truly love another human being ever again.

Chapter 8

January 31, 1891

Helena, Montana

Mollie’s stomach lurched along with the locomotive as it squealed to a stop.  Looking out over the town of Helena in the distance, it was a much larger town than she’d anticipated. 

How will I ever find Nell?
  She placed her hands on her stomach, trying to force her muscles to relax.  The last thing she needed was to step off the train feeling panicked and ill. 

I
’ll find her,
she told herself.
How many rich couples with babies could there be in a mining town, even if it’s not as small as I’d thought?  Boston is huge in comparison, and I found the Deming home there, didn’t I?

She pushed away the thought that in Boston, she
’d had acquaintances, who had put her on the trail of the Deming family.  In Montana, she’d have no such benefits. 

Fetching her oversized traveling bag from the luggage rack, she waited behind other passengers as they all made their way off the train.  When she stepped down onto the platform, she had a moment of panic
—what if Mrs. Porter didn’t show up, as expected?  What would she do, an unmarried woman in a strange town?  She had very little of Mr. Jamison’s expense money left—he’d sent her just enough to get by on the train.  How would she have time to find Nell if she had to scrabble to find a place to live, and a way to eat?

“
Mollie?  Mollie Quinn?” 

The voice came from her right, and she turned to see a family approaching her
—a man carrying a young child, and a woman cradling a baby in her arms. 

“
Yes.  That’s me.”  A sense of shyness overcame Mollie.  The woman was far from what she’d expected.  The imposing figure that Mrs. Gardner had described led Mollie to expect a strict, steel-haired spinster or widow wearing well-pressed, drab garments.  Instead, the woman was smartly-dressed, with every hair in place, beautiful skin, lovely blue eyes, and a sweet smile. 

“
Welcome to Helena!  How was the trip?”

“
It was…draining.  I thought I’d never get here.”

Mrs. Porter laughed. 
“Oh my, I remember that feeling.  The trip from Boston was interminable.  The rocking, the steam and the coal smoke, the dust when we passed a road with a wagon train on it…it can be quite unpleasant, can’t it?”

Mollie nodded, looking about, distracted.  Was there any chance the Demings could be at the train station?  Or could she have missed them by a day?  Her greatest fear was that they would suddenly depart for Boston, while she was making her way to Montana.  She had checked before she had left, and the kitchen maid from the Deming
’s Boston home still hadn’t heard any word of their return.  But that had been three weeks ago.  Their plans could have changed at any time.

“
Miss Quinn?” 

Mollie turned back to see the man beside Mrs. Porter
—who she assumed to be her husband—looking at her expectantly.

“
Oh, I’m sorry, I’m a little…distracted.”

“
That’s alright,” Mrs. Porter told her.  “You’ve had a long trip.  My husband was just introducing himself.”

“
I’m Clay Porter, Madeline’s husband.  This here is Grace,” he nodded toward the girl in his arms, “and Madeline is holding Chandler.”

“
It’s so nice to meet you all.”  She eyed the infant in Mrs. Porter’s arms, and it was as if she’d been punched in the gut.  The baby was about the same age Nell had been, the last time Mollie had held her in her arms.  She swayed on her feet, and Mr. Porter held out a hand and took her by the shoulder to steady her.

“
Clay, why don’t we hurry and get her bags.  She looks like she could use a rest.  Let’s get her back to the hotel.”

Mollie averted her eyes from the sleeping infant and took a deep breath. 
“You’re probably right.  It’s best if I lay down as soon as I can.” 
And get away from your beautiful children, before I burst into tears
.
 
“But I don’t have any other bags.  Just this one.”

“
Really?”  Mr. Porter grinned at his wife.  “Just one bag?”

“
Stop it.  You’re incorrigible.  Must you tease me every time?”

“
Until another woman steps off that train with more luggage than you came with, I’m afraid I must, my dear.”

“
Mother came with more luggage than I.”

“
She doesn’t count.  She’s a Barstow.”

They both laughed, and Mollie marveled at the comfortable affection they had for one another. 
Will Noah and I ever have that?  Is it possible to be happy with him, even though the main reason I’m marrying him is to find Nell?

She promised herself right then that she would do everything she could to be a good wife to Noah Jamison.  She knew he was looking for a wife to keep house, and keep him company.  He didn
’t speak much of love, so she wasn’t sure if he was hoping for that or not.  But she would do everything she could to make his life easier, and hopefully even to make him love her.  If she got her Nell back, and Mr. Jamison accepted her, he would be bringing her the greatest joy possible, and making her life complete.  The least she could do is make him happy in return.

“
Well then, Miss Quinn, let me take that for you, and we’ll head on over to the wagon and get you to that hotel.”  He shifted the little girl in his arms and took Mollie’s bag from her hands.

Mollie followed behind the family, trying not to look at little Grace, who stared at Mollie over her father
’s shoulder.  Nell had been taken from her a ten months ago, and would be a little over a year old already.  Would she be toddling around yet?  Or scuttling along, holding onto furniture?  She’d already missed out on most of Nell’s life.  Would  she even recognize her own baby when she saw her?

She blinked away the tears as they approached a wagon, and Mr. Porter hefted her bag into the back of it, then offered his hand to help her up.  Once she was settled, and the Porters were ensconced in the buckboard seat with Grace between them, they headed off toward town. 

Mollie scarcely noticed the beautiful view, with the town surrounded by low, rounded hills and mountains, covered in snow.  All she could think of as they entered the town was how much bigger it was than she’d thought.  The outlying homes gave way to more densely-settled neighborhoods, and finally a main thoroughfare lined with dozens of shops.  And she could see over the rooftops the stately homes all over the town.  Each of those large homes and mansions represented a wealthy family—how could there be so many in a frontier town?  But then, Helena was no longer just a bustling mining town.  She could see it was truly a small city, with nearly every amenity one could want, considering how far it was from “civilization.” 

Mr. Porter told her a little about the history of the town as they drove, and though she missed much of what he said, she honed in on the part about the mining millionaires
—the city of Helena had more millionaires per capita than any other in the United States. 

Well, that explains all the large homes,
she thought miserably.  She had assumed Mr. Deming would be the heir to the only wealth-producing mine in the area.  But apparently, wealthy mine owners were no rare sight.  She sighed as they pulled up to the town.  She was mentally and physically exhausted, and realizing just how hard the task of finding her daughter might be only added to her fatigue.

The Porters walked into the hotel and got her checked in.  Mr. Porter left with Grace to park the wagon behind their butcher shop across the street, and Mrs. Porter brought little Chandler with her, to escort Mollie to her room, following behind the bellman, who carried Mollie
’s bag.

Once the bellman had left, Mrs. Porter chatted for a few minutes, until Chandler began to fuss.  Mollie
’s heart ached at the mewling sounds the little boy made as he stretched and awoke, nestling against his mother’s chest. 

“
I’ll bet you’re eager to start a family of your own soon.”  Mrs. Porter smiled at Mollie, then looked down at her son, stroking his cheek.

Mollie swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise. 
“I…uh…I look forward to holding my own child in my arms.”

Mrs. Porter reached out and patted her on the arm. 
“It’ll happen in due time.  Enjoy the time you have alone with Mr. Jamison, once you’re married.  That first year without a baby is precious time alone that you’ll never get back.” 

I don
’t care about that…I only care about holding my daughter again.
She knew it was a selfish thought—she’d be taking those precious months of solitude from her husband-to-be.  He wouldn’t have the chance to get to know her before the duties of fatherhood—of being a father to a child that wasn’t his—was thrust upon him. 
I’ll make it up to him,
she assured herself.
  I’ll make him so happy, he won’t care about any of that.  He’ll just be ecstatic to have me and Nell in his life.

“
Well, I should leave you to unpack and rest.  This little one needs some attention from his Mama.”  Mrs. Porter grinned down at her fussing child.  Then she glanced up at Mollie.  “Since you seem so tired, I was thinking that perhaps we should change the time of our meeting tomorrow.  Usually I host a luncheon at the restaurant downstairs for the engaged couple to meet and get to know one another.  But tomorrow is Sunday and—I’m assuming you want to attend Mass?”

“
I…sure.  Of course.”  Mollie nodded, but fear squeezed the breath out of her.  She hadn’t been to Mass since before Nell was born.  The priest at her parish had assured her that she was truly repentant, and therefore God had forgiven her.  But the parishioners were another matter.  Some of them had
not
forgiven her sin, and once her condition became obvious, they had taken every chance they could to stare her down, turn away, or ignore her presence.  On a few occasions, older women had approached her and told her she had no right to come to church and flaunt her belly that carried a bastard child in front of good Catholic families.  They told her she was a bad influence, and she wasn’t wanted.

It had only been a handful of parishioners who had treated her that way
—the rest minded their own business, or else they pretended not to notice her slowly expanding belly.  But the poor treatment from those few people had eaten away at her resolve to attend church, and that, coupled with her mother’s bitter remarks about suffering humiliation every Sunday, convinced Mollie that Mass was no longer an option for her.

She had forgotten that she
’d told Noah that she attended Mass regularly.  It was the only lie she had told him outright.  And it
would
have been true, had she not felt so mistreated at her church.  Instead, for the last year and a half, she had observed Sunday at home by reading her missal and her Bible alone in her room.  Now, she realized, she could attend church again, with no fear of judgment, gossip, or rejection.  The fear melted away, replaced by hope…then elation. 

Noah Jamison truly
was
offering her a fresh start.  Even if he didn’t know it.

“
Good!  Mr. Porter and I are Catholic—I was born Protestant, but converted when we married—so we can bring you to Mass.  It’s at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, so we’ll come get you at seven-thirty.  How does that sound?  Will you be up to it?”

Mollie nodded. 
“I’m looking forward to it.  I’ll just make sure I get plenty of sleep tonight.”

“
That’s why I want to postpone the meeting.  After church, instead of having luncheon, you can have a light meal, then go up to your room and take a nap.  That will give you time to rest, and freshen up, and then we’ll meet at five o’clock for supper.”

“
But don’t you have to make supper for your family?”

“
I’ll make a stew when I get home from church, and let it simmer all day.  Then I’ll have all afternoon to spend with my family, before I need to head over for dinner, and Clay can serve up the stew back home.  In fact, if I can get this little one well-fed,” she paused to nuzzle her fuzzy-headed baby, “I might be able to leave him at home, since it will only be for an hour or so.  He’ll likely sleep for hours.”

Mollie cleared her throat, looking away. 
“Well then, it looks like you have it all planned out.”  As horrible as it made her feel to admit it, she was relieved that Mrs. Porter would be leaving her son at home.  Otherwise she’d probably burst into tears at the restaurant table.

“
Yes!  It will be splendid.  I’ll have Clay run over to Mr. Jamison’s home later on and let him know about our change of plans.  And don’t be nervous about meeting him—Mr. Jamison is a fine man, and respected in the community.  I think you’ll get along swimmingly.”

And then we can marry quickly, so I can get on with finding my own little babe,
Mollie thought, as she eyed little Chandler with a grieving envy.