Abigail's Adventure (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 1) Read online

  She nodded jerkily, hoping Wiggie understood she felt the same.

  “So.” Wiggie straightened and pierced Abigail with a look which could only be described as motherly. “I’m going to offer you the chance you’ve been waiting for, my dear, whether you know it or not.”

  The chance she’d been waiting for?

  Her confusion must’ve shown, because Wiggie patted her hand once again. “I’m going to give you your own school.”

  Then she sat back with a little satisfied nod, and Abigail tried to understand what she’d just heard. “My…own school?”

  “Indeed!” Wiggie giggled—actually giggled!—and patted the folder of papers. “I have here a bank draft in your name, and I will give it to you for your school as soon as you’ve proven you’re settled and teaching the principles I’ve held for so long.”

  Abigail opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried again. “Principles?” she croaked.

  “Yes, girl! All children deserve a chance at education, and that means even those horrible little towns out west without any civilization! If you go out there and find a school—oh, I suppose it doesn’t have to be your own school, just a school where you can influence the curriculum and acceptance practices—I will grant you the money to sustain that school.” She waved her hand airily. “Feel free to name it after me of course.”

  “Of course,” Abigail managed. “But—but how…?”

  “Oh, starting a new school isn’t that difficult, my dear. I did it after all. Or just meet a nice school teacher and use some of your wiles on him, it doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that my principles of inclusion are carried on, and you are the one to make sure that happens!”

  It was amazingly difficult to wrap her head around the concept. Her own school! She might actually be able to control her own school, to be in charge of making the world a better place, not just for her children, but all children.

  “You mean— Wait, does it have to be out west?”

  “Of course. We don’t need any more schools here in the east, and Lord knows everyone is set in their ways. Out there, you’ll have a real chance of influencing young minds, and that’s the chance I’m offering to you.”

  Abigail’s hands tightened around the edge of the table. Her own school! She wasn’t ambitious, but she admitted to herself she would love the chance to bring some civilization to lands which needed it, to teach children to become good citizens. She and her children could travel out west, start a school, influence the community, and use Wiggie’s money to…

  Wait. Wait, this was all well and good, but if Wiggie was going to gift the money after the school was set up, how would that actually work? She didn’t have enough saved up to support the three of them away from the school for long.

  “I—” She swallowed and tried again. “I can’t support the three of us without income, Wiggie. There’s not enough saved up.” Wiggie had been generous with her time and space over the years, and all of the teachers in her employ were grateful for the room and board, but none of them had made much in terms of salary. “I haven’t needed much money, since you’ve provided us with so much, but I don’t have enough to get Joshua, Maggie and myself out west, start a school—who knows how long that’ll take!—and shelter and feed us until your grant comes through. I’m sorry.”

  But Wiggie wasn’t defeated. In fact, she was beaming as if, well, as if Abigail had walked into her trap. And that’s when she flipped the page in the folder, whipped out a folded newspaper, and splayed it out.

  Abigail leaned over, and sucked in a breath at the title.

  The Bride’s Bulletin. It was one of those groom’s catalogs where men advertised for mail-order brides.

  When she met Wiggie’s eyes, the old woman’s were twinkling. In fact, she looked one breath away from giggling again.

  “I can’t afford to sponsor your trip out west, my dear, but I know someone who can.”

  Abigail was almost afraid to ask. “Who?”

  Wiggie tapped the newspaper with one graceful finger. “Somewhere between these pages is a man who lives in a little town out west. A town which is desperate for a teacher. He, I’m sure, is desperate for a wife. You are desperate for a way to get to this little town—did I mention part of the agreement is the groom pays for the bride’s passage?—and for a husband and father to your children.”

  “No.” Abigail rose half out of her seat. “I absolutely am not desperate for a husband or father for my children. I will not sell myself again, not even for such a prize, Wiggie.”

  The old woman leaned forward and patted Abigail’s hand once more. “Your own school, my dear.”

  My own school.

  Slowly, Abigail sank back into her chair, staring blankly at the pages on the table between them.

  My own school.

  But no. No, that wasn’t worth marriage. She shook her head, trying to ignore the siren’s call of Wiggie’s proposal. She’d been married once, and look how that had turned out. Cyrus’s control over her and her children had been absolute, and she never wanted to submit to that again. She wouldn’t submit to a man who’d viewed children the way Cyrus had. He hadn’t cared about Joshua or Maggie, hadn’t cared about Abigail either. She’d just been someone to take care of his house, to keep his children quiet. And if she couldn’t keep them quiet, he’d make them quiet.

  She shuddered, remembering how he used to hurt them. No, no. She couldn’t marry, not again.

  But…

  My own school.

  She shook her head again.

  Wiggie nodded. “You will be in charge, Abigail. Your own school. Imagine the freedom, to create lesson plans, to choose the direction you take young children’s minds! And all it would take is a willingness to yoke your oxen beside that of a successful, kindhearted man.”

  This time Abigail’s head shake was harder. “There’s no such thing.”

  Wiggie tsked. “Surely you’re not going to tar all men by Cyrus’s brush? He was a terrible husband, it’s true, but somewhere in these pages is a man who will love you and your precious children. I promise.”

  “You don’t know what happened—” Abigail managed to choke out.

  “I do.” Wiggie’s eyes hardened slightly. “I do, my dear. Trust me.” She took a deep breath and seemed to let go of whatever anger she held in that moment. “I know what you’ve been through.”

  Abigail stared into her friend’s eyes and wondered if Wiggie did know. Did she know about Cyrus’s fists and his shouts and his anger? Did she know about how he’d come home drunk, barely able to stand?

  Did she know Abigail had killed him to protect her babies?

  She swallowed and nodded slightly. Something in Wiggie’s eyes told her she did know.

  “I promise,” Wiggie whispered, tapping the paper again. “There’s a man in here who will treat you right. He will bring you to his town, he’ll honor you and cherish your children, and he’ll help you build the school you deserve. Your own school.”

  My own school.

  “And Abigail…” The softness of Wiggie’s voice drew Abigail’s eyes to her kind face. “You are a strong woman. You were in a terrible situation, and you managed to extricate yourself from it. If the worst happens again, though I’m sure it will not, you’ll have the money and bravery you didn’t have before.”

  Against her will, her gaze was drawn back to The Bride’s Bulletin, the words blurring before her eyes. She remembered Cyrus standing at the altar, vowing to care for her. She remembered his anger when she’d given birth to a “useless girl.” She remembered his fists when he’d come home drunk again, threatening all she held dear.

  Could she risk another life like that? She’d worked so hard to keep her babies happy, to make sure they didn’t remember their father, and none of them spoke of Cyrus since his death four years ago. But Wiggie was right; not all men were like Cyrus. Could she risk it? Could she risk her children’s happiness?

  Could she possibly consider marrying
again, if it meant fulfilling Wiggie’s terms? Was the risk worth it?

  She exhaled.

  My own school.

  God forgive her, but it was a compelling prize. And if Wiggie was right—! What if there was a man out there who would honor her and cherish her children, who would help her achieve her goal?

  What if there was a man out there who could love her the way a husband should love a wife and love her children the way a father should?

  The risk was great, yes, but the reward…

  Abigail inhaled deeply and met Wiggie’s eyes. “How long do I have to decide?”

  Chapter Two

  As soon as Lucas opened the door to allow Matthias Blake to step into the fine, two-story home that was the center of life at Sunset Valley Ranch, little Hope yelled, “Ba!” and threw herself at his knees. Chuckling, Matthias removed his coat, scooped up the toddler, and pretended to throw her up into the air. Her squeals of joy made his smile even wider.

  “You know, you’re pretty good at that.” Lucas slapped him on his shoulder with a laugh on his way to hang up the coat.

  Matthias tossed the little one over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Good at what?”

  Leading the way towards the dining room, Lucas called back, “Dealing with kids. You should look into that.”

  Knowing the other man couldn’t see him, Matthias’s grin turned secretive, and he spun around in a circle twice, reveling in the sound of little Hope’s laughter as she clutched at his neck. As if he would ever drop her!

  Despite her father’s claims, Matthias wasn’t used to being around children like Hope. In fact, prior to her, the last kid he’d had any interaction with had been…well, probably Lucas himself. Matthias had come to work at Sunset Valley almost ten years ago, when it still belonged to Thomas Ryan, and Lucas hadn’t been able to even to grow a beard. The youngster had followed Matthias—who’d been all of twenty-four—around like a love-sick pup, and after a while, Matthias had learned to value the kid’s friendship.

  And now that kid was all grown up and running the ranch better than his father—or rather, the man he’d thought was his father—ever had. Thomas Ryan had been a hard man, but Lucas had enough of his mother in him to find happiness in life. A beautiful wife and a precious daughter were all he needed.

  And even though Matthias was older, he was taking notes from his young friend.

  Stooping, he put Hope down as he entered the dining room. She latched on to his leg, and he walked forward, pretending to ignore her giggles as she was dragged along.

  “I see we’re not too late.”

  “Perfect timing!” Shannon—Lucas’ wife—was holding the door for her sister Cora, who was carrying a platter with the ham. “You’re sitting beside Lucas.” She nodded to the correct place setting, then hurried ahead of Cora to prepare a spot for the meat.

  When Cora placed the platter to her sister’s approval, she hurried around the table to hug Matthias. He was careful not to return the hug too enthusiastically—not when her husband, the single-most-feared gunslinger in the West, was glaring at him from across the table—but it was nice to be remembered.

  “It’s good to see you, Cora,” he said quietly, nodding respectfully. “How long are you two in town?”

  Verrick answered for his wife. “We arrived in time for my granddaughter’s birthday, and will stay another month.”

  Cora smiled and patted Matthias’s arm, probably to let him know not to be offended by her husband’s usual curt manner. “We’re heading to San Francisco after this, but Verrick needed a chance to spoil little Hope. We haven’t seen her since Christmas after all.”

  Stoic as usual, Verrick dipped his chin slightly. “She shouldn’t forget me.”

  Matthias could tell from the way Cora’s lips tightened that she was trying not to smile, so he obliged her by holding her chair out for her, and they all sat down to a delicious Sunday meal.

  Conversation jumped from the state of the ranch to the calves expected in the spring to the river on the eastern border. Matthias brought up gossip from town, and they discussed the theory that Mr. King—the town’s unwanted and self-appointed mayor—was the cause behind the recent mysterious fires, and which businessmen were standing up to him. Shannon made them all laugh with stories of her daughter’s antics, while Cora and Verrick—mainly Cora—regaled them with tales from their travels.

  Throughout, Matthias was content to let the laughter and teasing sweep over him. In the last year, he’d spent more time at this table than he’d expected, especially since he’d lost his job here at the ranch.

  Almost two years ago, Lucas sent for a mail-order bride and fell madly in love with Shannon, and any fool could see that. Shannon brought her sister Cora, a fun-loving painter with a very bohemian way of looking at life, despite the danger a neighboring rancher posed to the family. Later that summer, they’d discovered that Verrick, the notorious gunslinger hired to protect them, was actually Lucas’ father. From what Matthias had seen, it was a rocky start to their relationship, but things had settled down by the autumn, when the ranch was attacked once again.

  With Verrick and Cora off on an adventure of their own, and Lucas in Helena with most of the hands, Matthias had been left to defend Sunset Valley from a murderous maniac. He’d failed, and felt the loss of that failure every single day.

  But as a result, he became…well, like family. Once he healed, Shannon made sure to invite him out to dinner at the ranch as often as possible. And since he was all alone in Black Aces, Matthias was more than happy to take her up on it.

  Looking around the table, he smiled slightly. This was his family, or as close as he’d gotten to one so far in life. Lucas, all grown up now and a man he was proud to call his friend, pushed his empty plate away with a satisfied sigh. Shannon leaned across to wipe the mashed potatoes from her distracted daughter’s chin.

  On the baby’s other side, solemn Verrick, in his meticulous black, showed his granddaughter a slight-of-hand trick to keep her attention. And beside Matthias, Cora was grinning hugely as she watched her husband and niece interact.

  She nudged Matthias. “He’s been taking notes from you, you know,” she said quietly.

  “What? Who?”

  “Verrick.” She jerked her chin. “When we were here for Christmas, he saw the way you made her laugh, and is determined to—”

  “I can hear you,” Verrick interrupted, his attention still on the baby. “Just because I don’t make silly noises at her, doesn’t mean she isn’t interested in what I have to say. Isn’t that right, Hope?”

  The baby banged her spoon against the table. “Papa!”

  Verrick nodded solemnly. “Yes indeed. Papa is very interesting, and treats you like a human, instead of an idiot.”

  Shannon was staring hard at the ceiling, trying not to smile, but Cora wasn’t so polite. Matthias wasn’t either.

  “What silly noises?”

  For the first time, Verrick looked away from his granddaughter, and turned his icy golden stare on Matthias. It was hard not to remember the way those same eyes had looked the day Verrick had dragged Matthias, gut shot and near dead, from the saddle and demanded to know how he’d allowed Shannon to come into danger. It had been well over a year ago, but Matthias didn’t think he’d ever forget the terror and promise of those eyes…and the shame which had accompanied that interaction.

  “Gootchie-gootchie-goo.” Verrick raised one blond brow blandly. “Whosa good wittle baby. Et cetera.”

  Cora and Lucas burst into laughter, and even Matthias had to admit the man’s impression could chase away the difficult memories.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as politely as he could manage, “I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat it?”

  This time Shannon began to giggle, and Verrick narrowed his eyes. “No.”

  “ ’Gootchie’, was it?”

  Verrick just glared, and Matthias suddenly became very interested in what was left of the greens on his plate, just
to hide his smile. Who would’ve thought a man famous for being ice cold could dote on baby Hope so much?

  Lucas, bless him, came up with a way to change the subject. “Blake is pretty good with kids, isn’t he? I was just telling him that.”

  Well, maybe not bless him. Matthias let out a breath, wondering how far his friend’s teasing would go today.

  On his other side, Cora leaned forward to speak to her brother-in-law. “I know! Hope seems to like him almost as much as she does Verrick.”

  “Almost,” Verrick said blandly.

  Matthias placed his fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with the napkin. Lord above, but Shannon could cook.

  “Listen.” He sighed happily. “I’m fed, I’m happy, you can say whatever you want, and you’re not going to irritate me.”

  “Oh yeah?” Lucas leaned back in his chair. “Even if we pointed out how everyone here is happily married and it’s about time you settled down?”

  Matthias pretended to think about it. “You mean, even though I’ve managed to go thirty—”

  “ ’Thirty-five years without being married,’ yeah, yeah,” Lucas interrupted. “I’ve heard it before.” He nudged Matthias. “But you should consider it.”

  Matthias hummed thoughtfully and fiddled with his spoon. “You mean, now the livery business is finally nice and stable, and I can support myself?”

  “And a wife,” Cora added.

  Across the table, Shannon smiled. “And maybe some children?”

  It was hard to keep the secret, but Matthias bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. “Gosh, I guess that would mean needing to build a new house, wouldn’t it?”

  Lucas frowned. “Wait. You mean you are considering it?”

  Verrick leaned forward, his fist planted on the table beside his empty plate. “Word in town is, as soon as the snow clears, there’s a fancy new house going up on Bluff Street.”

  Blinking innocently, Matthias said, “Really?”

  Shannon burst into laughter and threw her napkin at his head. “You scoundrel! You’re having a house built?”

  “Seriously?” Lucas elbowed Matthias. “That’s you?”