Mail Order Bride Margaret (Montana Destiny Brides, Book 1) Read online

The journey was long and tedious, at least in the packed car where Margaret sat upright in her seat. A kindly woman had traded with her and let her sit next to the window from time to time, affording her the chance to lean her head against the glass and let the vibrations of the swift car rattle in her head. It didn’t help her endless headache any, but it did settle her stomach some by giving her something to focus on besides the swaying of the car.

  The only other thing to focus her thoughts on was the unknown that awaited her at the end of the line. With every passing inch of track, Margaret knew she was that much closer to marrying a stranger. And while she could only pray that hers was as happy a match as Brigid’s had been with Seamus, she wasn’t naïve enough to think that theirs was the norm. Men like Seamus—and ladies like her sister, if truth be told—were rare gems.

  “Are you getting off in Dupree, or heading all the way to Spokane?” the woman asked her when Margaret sat up suddenly. A sudden jostling of the car made her look around and take notice, but no one else seemed the least bit bothered by it.

  “Oh, no. I’m off in New Hope,” she answered, not trusting her voice with the way her stomach was still fluttering. “And it won’t be a moment too soon, if you ask me.”

  “Is it your stomach then? Because I have a remedy for it,” the lady answered, rifling around in the bag that had been resting in her lap the entire time. She pulled out a small glass flask and uncorked it before handing it to Margaret.

  “Thank you so very much,” she muttered, accepting the flask and looking towards the woman for permission before taking a sip. She immediately regretted it as the burning sensation started on her tongue and snaked its way down her throat and into her stomach.

  “I’m so sorry, I should have warned you that it’s rather strong,” the woman said, taking the flask and patting Margaret’s hand.

  “No, ‘tis quite alright. ‘Tis just been some time since I’ve tasted whisky, that’s all.” She forced down a cough and looked out the window as tears involuntarily pricked at her eyes. She recovered enough to thank the woman, and was surprised to find that it wasn’t long before her nerves truly were calmer.

  “I never leave home without it. You never know these days what ailments you might encounter, especially in new places and with so many strangers at hand.” She replaced the flask in her bag and settled back in her seat. “Now, tell me what brings you out to the territories.”

  Margaret began to recount her tale, first of coming from Ireland to find work and to find her sister, and then to the point where she answered the advertisement for a wife. She felt bad for deceiving this woman who’d been so kind, but she left off with the unpleasant events that led her to look for the advertisement in the first place. There was no need to revisit old hurts, and besides, all of that was in the past. She’d made a promise to herself that she’d think on it no more.

  “He sounds like quite a dream,” the woman said when Margaret had finished. “And such a hard worker!”

  “Aye, ‘tis what everyone keeps saying to me,” she said quietly. “But I’m afeared there’s more to being happily married than finding a hard-working man.”

  “Is there, my dear? What do you think would make a marriage any better than a man who makes the decision to work himself into the grave before he lets his wife or any children do without?”

  “I don’t know that I could say,” she admitted thoughtfully. “Perhaps a man who likes to sit and talk in the evenings, who likes to explore the countryside when he’s not at his work. A man who adores his children to a fault, who would spoil them when my back is turned…”

  The woman smiled. “Those are fine qualities, to be sure. But you’ve no reason to think he’s not all of those things, and more!”

  “I can only hope so!” Margaret agreed with a wan smile. She leaned her head against the window and let sleep overcome her, and the next time she woke up, the old woman was gone.

  Dear Father in Heaven, she prayed silently, please let that most dearest of your angels have been speaking the truth. Let Declan be a man who is all I can hope for, but strengthen me to be the wife he longs for, too. Bless this marriage and watch over the family it creates. Amen.

  Margaret continued on until the conductor walked the aisle, reminding the travelers of the destination. Most of the passengers had disembarked several towns before, leaving only a handful of stragglers who were headed for farther destinations.

  “New Hope! Town of New Hope, population a hundred and ninety-seven! New Hope, and all points beyond!” the conductor cried as he marched up and down the aisle, shaking passengers who’d been sleeping and not heard his cries.

  She looked out the window and tried to discern some semblance of a town in the distance. All she could see were a scant few squat buildings and an imposing wall of mountains in the distance. This was where Declan had said he would meet her train, but she wondered how far off his own town of Bolton would be.

  “Miss? Aren’t you getting off in New Hope?” the old conductor asked her, tapping her shoulder. She started at the sudden intrusion, but nodded quickly.

  “Yes, then it’s on to Bolton by wagon, I believe,” she answered primly. The conductor smiled.

  “Oh, that’s not so terrible a trip. I’ve made that journey myself a time or two, I have a cousin who lives along the way!”

  “Do you really?” she asked, excitement creeping into her voice for some unknown reason. It shouldn’t have mattered that the old man knew someone in this part of the West, but it still pleased her to know that there were people around, people with families and friends of their own.

  “Yes, feller by the name of Edward Jackson, goes by Ned. Perhaps you’ll run into him as you go about your business. He came out here some time ago to homestead a claim, actually just got married some time back, if his letters are correct.”

  “Do you say so? That’s good to hear,” she answered politely, all the while thinking with relief that at least there would be some other ladies out in the region to keep company with.

  “If you do come across him, let him know his cousin says hello, and that his aunt passed away last winter with the flu. She lived a good life, all of ninety years, and had her family with her at the end.” The conductor pressed his lips together in a grim line and tipped his hat, then continued on towards the other end of the car.

  By the time the train let out a whooshing blast of hot air that enveloped the platform in a haze of pure, blistering heat, Margaret’s nerves were a wreck. The terribly long wait from the time the conductor announced their stop to the cabin boy actually jumping down and sliding a small set of stairs into place had undone all of her reserve. She pressed a hand to her midsection in an effort to slow the butterflies that were at that very moment threatening to upend her simple lunch of bread and cheese.

  “Miss? Do you be needing a porter? A carriage ride to any of the nearby towns?” a transport officer asked when he saw her walking hesitantly among the people on the platform. She shook her head no.

  “I’m expecting someone, but thank you all the same. Could you direct me to my trunk, though?” she asked, then followed his outstretched hand with her gaze. She thanked him and set off to retrieve it, grateful for the few minutes’ wait it would provide. She could only hope it was enough time to get her mind in order before Declan appeared to carry her off.

  “Miss McGreggor?” a husky voice behind her asked. The sound of her name made Margaret jump for some reason, and when she turned, she found herself staring straight at the buttons on a man’s shirt. It took her only a second to look up, but she realized she was more than a full head shorter than the man who’d spoken.

  “Aye, ‘tis me. I’m Margaret McGreggor. And you are?” she asked, quickly chastising herself silently for appearing to be an idiot. Who else would it be but the man who’d sent for her?”

  “O’Bryan. I’m Declan O’Bryan,” he answered, his breath catching slightly. She frowned almost immediately at his somewhat distant reaction to meeting her
, but her disappointment quickly turned to relief when he smiled broadly. “I had no idea you’d be so pretty.”

  The compliment caught her off guard, and she was flustered as she tried to stammer a word of thanks. “Why, thank you, Mr. O’Bryan! But ‘tis far more praise than I deserve, I’m afeared. ‘Twas a long journey, and I know I look a sight.”

  “Oh, how foolish of me! Of course, I’d forgotten how long you’ve been travelling. Please, I insist… go sit a piece there and I’ll fetch your trunk.” Declan smiled apologetically and pointed to a wooden bench in the shade of the depot’s overhang.

  Ordinarily, not one to shirk a responsibility, Margaret would have protested, stating that she was capable of gathering her own belongings. But the trip had been far harder to endure than she’d expected, and she was already weary from standing near the offloading car.

  “Thank you, I will.” She nodded gratefully and went to sit, but still kept an eye on Declan. She didn’t know him well, she’d be the first to admit, but she didn’t have cause to think he’d steal her trunk. Taking caution was an old habit to break though.

  Declan bade her wait once more while he carried the trunk to his waiting wagon, then came back to escort her personally. Margaret noticed that he seemed to hover nearby, never quite touching her but looking for all the world like he would if he knew what was proper and what was forbidden. His hands moved near her elbow without ever making contact. The thought of his nervousness and his excitement at her arrival made her laugh to herself.

  “Miss McGreggor, I’d like to introduce you to my nearest neighbors, the Jacksons. Ned and Clara Jackson…” Declan began, but he stopped when he spied the look on Margaret’s face.

  “Mr. Jackson? Do you happen to have a cousin on the train? A conductor?” she asked, putting a hand on the older man’s arm as though they’d been friends for ages.

  “Why, yes I do. I hadn’t thought of it, seeing as how I rarely come into town this way. Why do you ask?” Ned said with a kind but confused expression.

  “Oh dear! ‘Tis your cousin on the train! He’s there, over there right now!” Margaret answered frantically, pointing to the giant train where it still waited on the tracks for a fresh load of coal. “He told me to look for you once I explained I ‘twould naw be staying on in New Hope!”

  “My cousin? You mean, James is here?” Ned asked excitedly. Margaret nodded and pointed again to the train. The older man let out a whoop of excitement and jumped down from Declan’s wagon, then took off running in the direction of the tracks. It was all Declan, Margaret, and Clara could do not to laugh out loud at the sight of him running off.

  “Oh dear, I hope it doesn’t upset him too much,” Margaret began, remembering the rest of the conductor’s greeting. “He’ll surely learn of his aunt’s passing once he speaks to his cousin.”

  “Oh my,” Clara said, looking after her husband with concern. “But I know Ned, he’ll come right back from it. It will vex him for a few moments, but then he’ll be back to his own jolly self.” She turned to Margaret and extended a hand, both by way of greeting and to help her up into the wagon. “I’m Clara Jackson, recently come from Cape Cod. And you must be Margaret?”

  “Oh aye,” she answered with a breathless grin. “That I am! I’ve come to Montana to meet this fine man, and see about staying on.”

  Declan shifted his feet nervously, Ned’s warning coming back to upset him all over again. “Actually, Miss McGreggor, I wanted to explain. I felt it best… for you, I mean… if you’d stay with Mrs. Jackson at their home until you felt like you… well, like you knew me well enough. Mr. Jackson will bunk up at my place. It seemed only the proper thing to do.”

  The smile on Margaret’s face froze momentarily, then slowly began to fade away. It was quickly replaced by rejection of the cruelest kind. She’d come all this way on the promise of marriage, albeit to a stranger, and no sooner than she’d stepped the toe of her shoe off the train was he telling her he’d changed his mind.

  “You… you don’t want me to come to your home?” Margaret asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She hadn’t come all this way to stay on as a guest at some stranger’s house. She’d come to be married.

  “Oh, but I do!” Declan answered, covering up his eagerness at finally meeting his wife by remaining stiff and aloof. Formality was the way to go, Ned had assured him. “I’m thinking of you now, though. I couldn’t ask you to compromise yourself by staying at my home unattended, but I also can’t expect you to walk off the train and head straight to the preacher’s house to be married, either. That being said, I thought… I thought a proper courtship might be in order.”

  Margaret had to force herself to smile agreeably, but inside her stomach was roiling from the disappointment. Her cheeks softened to a faint pink blush at his proposal. “That’s terribly thoughtful of you, Mr. O’Bryan. I appreciate all your consideration.” She turned to Clara. “But you won’t mind me imposing, and sending your husband off?”

  “Oh, not a bit! I’ve been married going on two months, and I’ve only just gotten off the train myself before that. I’ll be ever so glad of a lady’s company after nothing but menfolk and livestock to keep me busy!” Clara laughed at her own joke, and Margaret was drawn in by her easygoing personality. “Besides, I think we’ll get along famously. We can sew a few things for your new home while you get to know this fine young man.”

  “I do appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Jackson, more than you know…” She let her voice trail off when she realized it wasn’t so much hospitality as it was having to take in a woman whose alleged betrothed had spurned her.

  “Oh, that’s enough of that! I might be old enough to be your… well, let’s say your big sister!...but I’d like you to call me Clara from now on. And I’ll be calling you Margaret!”

  “Actually,” Margaret began, ducking her head shyly, “those who love me best have always called me Mags.”

  “Mags, then! I love it! It suits you just fine,” the woman answered, taking her hand.

  Declan watched the women making their introductions and their arrangements and he felt as if a tight band was slowly unworking itself from around his chest. He’d had nothing but worries and questions ever since he’d taken Ned up on his advice to write off for a bride, and it had only been made worse by Ned’s suggestion that he needed to get to know this woman before taking up with her. But if this woman before him was everything she seemed, he looked forward to sending Ned packing back to his own place and marrying the girl in no time.

  Chapter Five