The Bride and the Orphan He Never Expected (Preview)

Chapter One

Minnesota 1888

“Here goes nothing!” Molly whispered. She threw her knapsack out the window and watched it fall to the ground with a soft thud. 

The early morning darkness felt cold. It felt even colder than it had been lately as winter was quickly approaching. She shivered as she turned back to the bed, testing the strength of the knots she’d tied into her sheets.

Both were secure, and she walked back to the window. Drawing in a breath, she threw the sheet out next, then paused, holding her breath as she listened.

Her parents slept downstairs, and she couldn’t wake them. Not if her plan was to work. If her father saw what she was doing, only the Good Lord Himself would know what might happen. He might well keep her under lock and key until the wedding.

A wedding I’d rather die than attend. 

She tiptoed carefully back to the edge of the loft and peered down into the house. Her father’s snoring was the only thing she could hear, and there was no sign her mother was out of bed, either.

With that bit of reassurance, she returned her attention to the task at hand: getting outside.

She crept back to her window and pushed it further open. It wasn’t big, but then, neither was petite and sturdy Molly. She grabbed the sheets and gripped them tightly as she threw one leg over the ledge.

The ground below wasn’t too far, but it certainly felt higher once she was out of the house. She tried not to look down, instead carefully walking herself down the side of the wall without making any noise her parents might hear.

A creak from somewhere inside the house gave her pause. She stopped and held her breath, listening for any indication of her parents being awake.

Seconds ticked by, and her pounding heart slowed. She hadn’t realized her hands were shaking until she decided to keep moving, and she forced herself to grip the sheet tighter.

When she finally landed on the ground with a grunt, she quickly picked herself up and brushed herself off. Snow had fallen the previous night, and it dusted her clothing when she touched the earth below.

Molly grabbed her knapsack and paused once more, giving the small farmhouse a final parting look. The small house was where she’d lived for as long as she could remember, but it had never truly felt like home.

And for good reason, too.

“Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Father.”

She whispered the words. Even outside, she didn’t trust that her parents weren’t going to wake up and drag her back inside. She had to get moving.

Molly threw the knapsack over her shoulder and turned toward town. She walked at first, but it didn’t take long before she broke into a jog. The pressing need to get to the train station as soon as possible weighed on her shoulders, and she couldn’t relax until she was there.

The sleepy little town of Ratcliff hadn’t yet woken. Every house she passed was completely dark, and as she reached the town itself, the shops were the same. Street lanterns burned low, each capped with a few inches of snow from the previous night’s storm.

She clutched her ticket in her hand, her palms sweaty despite the early morning cold. But Molly remained determined. She hadn’t come so far only to get too spooked to keep going now.

The train whistled, giving a final warning to everyone who wanted to board. She’d arrived just in the nick of time.

“Ticket,” the man standing next to the train ordered as he held out his hand. She handed it to him, feeling as though she was passing the last test needed before she reached freedom.

She stood just outside the train car, willing herself to climb the few stairs to get inside. Several passengers were sleeping against the windows, likely people who had been on the train all night.

She gasped and whipped around when a hand touched her shoulder. Though she’d left her parents asleep back home in bed, she still felt like she was about to be found out any moment. Only when she saw a pair of bright brown eyes staring back at her did she relax.

“You coming?” asked a young woman who seemed close to Molly’s age.

Smiling, Molly nodded and climbed aboard, though her stomach tied itself in knots as she walked down the narrow aisle.

Once inside, Molly realized many of the seats were already taken. Though she almost panicked, wondering where to sit, she was also relieved. All the strange faces meant no one would notice her, and with so many people on the train, those standing out on the platform weren’t likely to pick her out easily, either.

Not that anyone was looking for her. Yet.

“Sit with me,” the girl from outside said. She grabbed Molly’s free hand and pulled her toward the back of the car, finding available seats.

The two made themselves comfortable before the girl asked, “What’s your name?”

“Molly Tremaine,” Molly replied. “What’s yours?”

“Miriam Hayes,” the young woman said with a fierce smile. “Where you headed?”

Now that the pair had sat themselves on the train, Molly had the chance to truly get a look at her new companion. Like Molly, Miriam had long, chestnut colored hair.

Though Miriam was taller with brown eyes rather than petite with blue, the two could have been sisters.

“Montana Territory,” Molly told her. “I’m going to meet my husband.”

“You got a husband out that way?” Miriam asked. “I’d always hoped to be married by the time I turned twenty-one, but I suppose that wasn’t meant to be. Can’t say I’m too surprised, what with living how I do.”

She laughed, and Molly gave her an inquisitive look.

“I’m an orphan,” Miriam told her. “Have been practically my whole life. I wasn’t going to live in any orphanage, though. I always felt like a puppy just waiting to be picked by whoever came in to adopt. So I left.”

At first, Molly smiled. She remembered the feeling herself from when she, too, had lived in an orphanage. But unlike her new friend, she’d been adopted.

“You left?” she finally asked, processing her surprise.

“Yup,” Miriam said proudly. “Been living on my own since I was twelve. I’m going to Montana Territory, too. Found myself a job at a bakery, and I really think this is a good opportunity for me.”

Molly agreed but couldn’t stop herself from nervously leaning into the aisle, looking toward the front of the train. What was taking so long?

“You hiding from someone or something?” Miriam asked. “You’re acting like someone’s going to pop out from the dark.”

“My parents—adoptive parents—don’t know I’m here,” Molly confessed.

Miriam raised a brow, then broke into a wide grin. “Well, shoot! You’re an orphan, too? How about that?” A pause followed before she added, “Why don’t you want them to know?”

“They’ve arranged for me to marry someone,” Molly told her. “And I won’t.”

“I thought you said your husband was out in Montana Territory?” Miriam’s brow raised slightly higher, if that was possible.

“Future husband, I should say.” Molly’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’m a mail-order bride.”

Miriam stared at her for a long moment, her face nearly expressionless. Then a fresh, wide grin split her features as she laughed and sat back on the narrow bench seat.

“Shoot, I’m starting to like you! Running away from a marriage to a man you don’t love toward another man you don’t know. That’s pretty brave if you ask me,” Miriam said.

Molly wasn’t sure if she felt better or more nervous by the comment. Miriam clearly meant well, but Molly was already on edge.

She could correct Miriam by telling her that she was running from one man she didn’t love to another man whom she also didn’t love. But Molly wanted to believe that love could come to her marriage with time. Not only that it could, but it would.

Lots of folks married through ads in the mail, and they lived long, happy lives together. She had no reason to believe she wouldn’t be one of them.

“Why don’t you just tell the man here you don’t want to marry him?” Miriam asked when the train let out a whistle followed by a shudder.

Molly tensed when the train jolted, but she quickly relaxed as it slowly chugged its way out of the station. Folks sending off their loved ones waved on the platform, but Molly remained pressed to the back of the seat.

No one in town knew where she was going, but she still didn’t wish to be recognized. Though she’d spent most of her time out on the farm with her parents, she was still well-known in the area. Anyone would recognize her, and they’d be sure to tell her father where they had seen her.

“I don’t have a choice,” Molly confided in Miriam. “My parents arranged the entire thing with the man’s parents.”

“Doesn’t he have a say?” Miriam asked absently. “Maybe the two of you can tell your folks that you don’t want to marry each other. Surely that would do the trick.”

“He does want to marry me, but not for love,” Molly said sadly. “He’s hoping to bolster his social connections, and being married would do that. The last woman he was to marry left just before the wedding, too, so he’s determined to make this arranged marriage happen.”

“Golly.” Miriam shook her head. “That’s a lot going on in a small town in Minnesota. I always figured that was the sort of stuff that happened in bigger cities like New York.”

Molly couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Miriam clearly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she was saying so many things Molly herself had thought over the past few months. But Molly hadn’t been willing to say the words out loud.

“You from here then?” Miriam asked.

“Yes,” Molly said. “Well, after getting adopted. I was in an orphanage some fifty miles from here.”

“I’m from back in Boston,” Miriam said. “Originally. I’ve been all over the coast but finally decided that it’s time to head out West. That’s the land of opportunity, they say.”

“Do you believe that?” Molly heard herself asking.

“Sure do,” Miriam said with a confidence that helped put Molly’s mind at ease.

Then so do I.

“I was taking the stagecoaches out this way,” Miriam told her. “But I’ll admit it’s getting a mite too cold to keep going like that. I hear the weather only gets worse when you get out to the Rockies. I don’t want to freeze in a stage before I make it to that bakery!”

“Where are you headed exactly?” Molly asked, hoping her new friend would be around for a while.

“It’s called Mansfield,” Miriam said after a pause.

“That’s where I’m going, too!” Molly blurted before she could stop herself. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked around apologetically, but it didn’t seem that she’d bothered anyone.

Miriam looked amused when Molly turned back toward her with a sheepish expression.

“I’m going to be in the area, anyway. From what I understand, my husband lives out in the woods near the town. I’m not sure exactly what that means.”

“Do you have a photograph of him?” Miriam asked with a mischievous smile.

“No.” Molly gave a regretful shake of her head. “But that’s alright. We’re getting married because it’ll help us, so I suppose looks don’t matter so much.”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Miriam approved. “Besides, that way you can sit here and daydream about how handsome he’s going to be.”

She giggled, and Molly couldn’t help but join. She’d been so nervous about running away from home that she’d not spent much time thinking about what her new husband might look like. He hadn’t given her more than a brief description in one of the three letters he’d written her, and that was it.

“How long have you been corresponding?” Miriam pressed.

“Only a couple months,” Molly confessed. “He’s eager for me to get there, and considering my own circumstances, I am too.”

The letter in her pocket suddenly felt heavy, and Molly pulled it out. Miriam eagerly leaned over, her bright eyes full of expectation.

“What’s it say?” she asked when Molly hesitated.

“Not much,” Molly admitted. “I got the impression this one was more just an acknowledgment of the last letter I sent to tell him I would be on the next train out that way.”

She cleared her throat, looked down at the words, and read aloud. “Dearest Molly, I’m happy to hear you’ll be coming so soon. It’s really more than I could have hoped for. I look forward to meeting you in person, and I will see you soon. Warmest regards, Clayton.”

Of course, he’d acknowledged the day and time of her expected arrival, but she didn’t need to read that part out loud. The important thing was that Clayton would be there when she got to Mansfield, and she wouldn’t have to worry so much about where she was.

“Clayton,” Miriam said with a note of whimsy in her voice. “Now isn’t that a handsome name?”

Molly’s cheeks burned again. She’d thought the same thing when she’d read it the first time herself, and she was pleased that someone agreed.

The train fell into a steady pace, and Molly slipped the letter back into her pocket. She’d burned the first two letters Clayton had sent, not wanting to risk her parents finding it. But this last one, she’d kept—to remind herself that running away to Montana Territory was real.

This wasn’t a dream.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall of the train. Her heart still raced, but she felt a lot better than she had the past few days.

Each second took her that much farther away from home and the people who wanted to make her marry Sam Pearl.

***

“No!” Molly cried, sitting bolt upright in her seat. She looked frantically around, her eyes scanning the train before finding Miriam.

“Are you alright?” Miriam asked, alarmed.

Molly’s heart raced as she looked around. She realized she’d fallen asleep to the gentle lull of the train.

“Yes,” she said at last. “I think I was having a nightmare.”

“About what?” Miriam asked as naturally as though they’d been friends forever.

Molly thought for a few moments, then she shook her head. “I can’t really say. I just remember that I was standing out in a field looking at this large storm. Like a tornado was getting ready to touch the ground. And a giant man appeared but I couldn’t see his face. He didn’t say anything to me, but I was so frightened. I don’t know.”

“It’s probably just nerves,” Miriam dismissed. “I’m sure you’ve got to be a little bit worried about who you’re going to marry.”

“Maybe a little,” Molly agreed quietly.

Miriam readjusted herself and seemed to get comfortable once more, turning her shoulder away from Molly and leaving her to her thoughts. Molly tried to shake the weight that settled over her heart as she reread the letter for what felt like the thousandth time.

It was just a dream. A dream doesn’t mean anything. I’m just shaken because of everything going on, not because of the man I’m going to marry. 

She put the letter back and took another deep breath, running her hands down the front of her patched skirt. She forced herself to sit back once more and relax, choosing to believe the apprehension was nothing more than the nightmare.

She’d made up her mind. She was going to marry Clayton Stroud. Nerves or not, it was too late to turn back now.

Chapter Two

“Buck! Buck! Knock it off, you fool!” Clayton scolded his dog, but there was no real heat in his tone.

The border collie was joyously dashing through the snow, taking large mouthfuls of the white crystals before bounding onward. A rabbit spooked and Buck happily gave chase, barking each time his feet hit the ground.

Deep down, Clayton didn’t mind the dog’s distraction. The Good Lord knew how hard of a worker the animal was, and smart as a whip, too. Clayton himself had often bragged that Buck could outsmart even the cleverest man in town if he could only have the chance to prove it.

Finally, the mid-sized black and white dog came back, and Clayton put him to work. He whistled and called as always, and Buck listened to the commands beautifully.

He drove the cattle from the far corral back to the barn, nipping at their heels and keeping them in line all the way across the yard. Not a single animal strayed along the way, making Clayton’s morning easier than it could have been.

Ranch work was by far the most difficult work Clayton had ever done. He’d grown up the son of a banker, then he’d taken to law enforcement. He’d often thought he’d live out his days as a sheriff, but tragedy changed that.

Not a day’s going to pass without me thinking about you, cousin.

He’d long been told that time would heal the pain. Many folks tried to convince him that Asher was in a better place, but Clayton wasn’t so sure.

He closed the barn door and turned, looking over the vast landscape behind him.

A fog settled over the mountain peaks, reaching roughly halfway down their magnificent slopes. A blanket of white covered the land, with drifts taller than Clayton standing in some areas.

Trees stood draped in white as well, their blue-green hue almost enchanting in the early morning gray. It was bitterly cold yet almost cozy. Clayton imagined heaven must be pretty nice, but he couldn’t accept it would be any better than the view stretching before him.

He clicked to Buck, and the dog appeared once more, this time with a large icicle in his mouth. Buck chewed bits off the end, loudly crunching the ice between his teeth before he bent forward, inviting Clayton to play with him.

“You know we don’t have time for messing around,” Clayton told him. “Ever since Bernie moved back to town, we’ve got more work than ever.”

Clayton had conflicting feelings about losing his only ranch hand to Mansfield. He didn’t blame the man for wanting to move his growing family into town. After all, that had been the arrangement since the beginning.

Bernie and his young wife had moved onto Clayton’s ranch about a year earlier. They were new to the area and trying to put down roots, and Clayton had needed the help. But when Bernie’s wife fell pregnant, Bernie felt it was time they moved somewhere less remote.

Of course, Clayton could have hired a new ranch hand. Plenty of men were after work, and it would only take a night down in the saloon for him to find someone steady. But Clayton didn’t want to replace Bernie. He didn’t want to bring anyone else onto the ranch.

He was perfectly fine alone.

In almost every way, Clayton preferred it. He’d made the mistake of allowing himself to be too vulnerable before. He didn’t regret loving his cousin, but he’d learned that loving someone meant pain was inevitable.

He shook his head as thoughts of Asher’s face crept back into his mind. The sound of the gunshot, the smell of blood. All the things he’d been running from for years.

Clayton started toward the house. Buck trotted along behind, following him around the side of the house to the large wood pile.

“Think we can make it another day without chopping?” Clayton asked the dog.

Buck dropped down, barking, and Clayton threw a stick, huffing puffs of steam out of his mouth as he watched the energetic creature dig in the snow to find it.

He didn’t smile. He rarely smiled anymore. Smiling reminded him of the past. The long scar he’d obtained during that fight that robbed him of his cousin tugged at the corner of his lips whenever he tried.

It didn’t hurt, but it also couldn’t be ignored. By and by, Clayton began to associate smiling with that tragedy, and he did it less and less until he eventually stopped doing so at all. When his cousin died, he’d let something die within himself as well, and he was fine with leaving it that way.

It had been six months since the incident, but it felt like a lifetime. The day it happened, Clayton had hung up his guns once and for all, promising no one else would die by such violence. Not while he had any say.

He’d left Red Rock, two counties over, and moved to the ranch. Clayton had found some solace in being fortunate enough to buy the place from someone who wanted to sell it with the animals and supplies, giving him the chance to get out of law and embrace a new, peaceful life.

Bernie and his wife moved onto the place the following week, and Clayton hoped his life would become nothing more than tending to cattle and horses.

Clayton shook his head and turned back to the wood. He’d heard when he was in town the previous week that a snowstorm was on the way, but it still hadn’t come. That left him in a bind.

He was glad not to be locked in the cabin for days waiting out the blizzard, but it also left him wondering when the storm would hit. He’d need wood. He’d need supplies, too, but going to town with the warning in the back of his mind didn’t feel like a good idea.

He had the necessities to make it until spring if need be, so there was no good reason to risk his safety. Not to mention, without Bernie on the ranch, that meant no one would be there to care for the animals in his absence.

This time of year, a trip into town could easily take more than a day. He’d have no way of knowing for certain until he got closer to the creek and the pass beyond. Both could be too treacherous for him to safely cross. And after all he’d been through, he wasn’t the sort to take unnecessary risks.

Making up his mind, Clayton took the axe in hand and set a round on the chopping block. He swung, splitting the round into wedges. He spent the next two hours splitting the wood into wedges, then he took a wood splitter and broke them down into pieces that would fit into the fireplace inside the house.

Once he was satisfied with the wood he’d split, Clayton gathered a bundle into his arms. He muttered to himself as he fumbled with the latch to the back door of the house, but he eventually managed to let himself in with one hand.

“Buck! Come on, fool, before you freeze!” he called over his shoulder.

Propping the door open with his foot and holding the wood in both hands, Clayton couldn’t see where the dog was. But he heard the animal come bounding through the back door, and soon Buck was right in front of his feet.

“Get out of the way,” Clayton ordered, though he didn’t really have to tell the dog what to do. Buck was eager to get warm now that they were back indoors, and the dog ran to the living room and shook his fur.

“No! Not in here!” Clayton tried, but it was too late.

Buck sent the water and snowballs that clung to his fur in all directions, and Clayton had to turn away.

“Better?” he asked with an annoyed huff.

In response, Buck fell to the ground with a grunt.

Clayton shook his head. “You’re a fool. A damned fool.”

Buck rolled onto his back, revealing his white belly. Clayton ignored him. There was just as much work to be done in the house as there was outside, and he had to get busy. Dishes sat in the basin from the past two days, and laundry remained piled in the corner of the room.

Women’s work, really, but Clayton didn’t have a woman in his life.

Bernie’s wife had been kind enough to do those things for him when she had lived on the ranch, but ever since she’d left, Clayton had let the chores pile up until he couldn’t take it any longer.

A wife was out of the question. What with the scar on his face and how little he cared to engage with people, Clayton didn’t have a prayer of finding a woman who would put up with him. And really, he was fine with it. No woman meant he could be left alone.

Suddenly, a shrill sound filled the air.

Clayton was in the middle of putting logs on the fire, and his hand froze. At first, he didn’t know what the sound was. It reminded him of a lamb, but he didn’t keep sheep. And it was far too late in the season for there to be any sort of baby animal, anyway.

It persisted, and Buck ran to the front door. He sniffed and pawed, trying to get it open.

“What in blue blazes?” Clayton muttered.

He dragged himself off the floor with another grunt, wiping the wood chips and dust from his pants as he made his way toward the front door. The sound grew louder, and Clayton didn’t hesitate.

He pulled open the door, unsure of what to expect.

At first, he saw nothing.

Then, the sound came again from right at his feet. He looked down, his heart skipping in his chest.

“What in tarnation?” he asked.

A baby lay on the porch. The bundle was in a small basket, but the basket wasn’t in very good shape. The child’s small face poked out of a blue blanket.

It was much too cold for the baby to remain on the porch. Clayton pulled the baby inside before stepping back onto the porch himself.

“Hello?” he called. “Who’s out there? Come back and get your baby! I don’t have the means to care for a child!”

He stepped away from the house and looked for any sign of the person who might have left the baby on his porch. But only silence came in response.

Clayton swore under his breath as he turned back to the house. He’d left the front door open, and the baby’s wails came from inside the house.

Buck hadn’t joined him in his search for whoever had left the baby. Instead, the dog stood still as a statue, staring at the child as though he’d just discovered the most incredible thing in the world.

Clayton didn’t know if his dog had ever seen a child. Perhaps when they went into town, but certainly not close enough to know what the baby was. He walked back inside and bumped the dog away before bending to inspect the squabbling bundle.

“What’s your name, little fella?” he asked as he lifted the baby from the basket. “Oh, you need a changing.”

His heart sank. He didn’t know the first thing about childcare, let alone how to change a diaper. But he couldn’t leave the baby in wet things. A bit of relief ran through him when he found two cloth diapers in the bottom of the basket along with a note.

“Maybe this will tell me something?” he muttered, picking it up. He read aloud, “R.D.”

He swore again and dropped the paper. Initials, but whose? Did they belong to the person who left the baby on the porch, or did they belong to the baby? And if they belonged to the baby, why not just tell him the full name?

It took nearly twenty minutes before he finally accomplished changing the baby’s diaper, and the only progress he’d made was learning the baby was a girl.

He wasn’t happy with how poorly he’d managed to put the new diaper on, but that couldn’t be helped. It was in place enough to get the job done, and that was fine by him. How did women make it look so easy?

He felt more overwhelmed by the moment, unsure of how to care for a child of any gender, especially all on his own.

“Babies drink milk, don’t they?” he asked Buck.

In response, the dog thumped his tail against the floor. Clayton didn’t have any fresh milk on hand and didn’t intend to milk the cow for another few hours. Now, he didn’t know how he’d manage milking the cow or tending to any of the other chores around the ranch with a baby.

The baby’s chronic screaming didn’t help the situation, and in frustration, Clayton decided to warm some water on the stove.

“Maybe you just need something to warm you up a bit, yeah?” he asked the child as though the baby would be able to answer.

He put the baby back in the basket and found some cheesecloth. When the water was warm but not too hot, he dipped the end of the cheesecloth in the water and let the baby suck it out. He worried the baby might be hungry, but at least the child stopped crying.

“Go to sleep or something,” Clayton said. He repeated dipping the corner of the cloth in the water, feeling more confident as the baby kept drinking.

The baby continued crying intermittently, and Clayton decided to try singing. He felt clumsy and awkward as he picked a tune, but it seemed to help the baby calm down if only a little. Finally, the child drifted off, and Clayton sat back on his heels.

He stared, frustrated, at the baby’s sleeping face. So peaceful, but so vulnerable. He didn’t know who would leave a baby to fend for herself like that.

“You have to go to town,” he said softly, not wanting to wake the baby once again. He walked to the window and peered out, studying the surroundings first, then the sky.

He’d hoped he might get a glimpse of whoever had left the baby on his porch. Perhaps they’d stayed in the area to see whether he’d find the child before the baby got too cold. If they did, he couldn’t see them from the window, so he studied the weather.

Going into town felt like the right thing to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not with that storm warning in the back of his mind. The weather could change in an instant, and if he was trapped out in the thick of a blizzard with a child, he didn’t want to think of the ways that might go wrong.

The baby’s safety had to come first, so there was no question in his mind. He’d have to sit out a few more days to ensure any storm brewing had passed. Then he could make the trip.

But how the hell am I to take care of this baby for a few days? I don’t know what to do!

The baby’s soft breathing drew his attention back to the basket, and Clayton dragged his hand down his face. He might not know how to care for a child, but he had raised plenty of calves with a bottle. Surely there were enough similarities that he’d be able to keep the baby happy enough for a few days.

He tried to ignore the resentment building within him. It wasn’t the child’s fault that she’d been left on his porch.

The baby couldn’t be more than a few days old at best. Anyone in the area would certainly know that was his door, and if they knew him at all, they’d know that he wasn’t in a place to care for a child.

Yet here he was with a brand-new baby. It didn’t make sense, it frustrated him, and more than that, he was angry. He just wanted to be left alone by the entire world, but he couldn’t seem to make that happen no matter how much he tried to keep to himself.

He hadn’t asked for any of this, and he was far from happy.