Shamed Mail Order Bride and Her Redeemed Farmer (#2, Brides Escaping Westward Western Romance) (A Historical Romance Book): Brides Escaping Westward, #2

prologue

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February 1871

Angels Ridge, Montana

The ancient steamboat was a mass of rusting metal of peeling paint. As the steam engines burned coal to heat water in the large boiler, the steam pumped into the cylinders and the open valves released the steam. Puffs of gray smoke coursed slowly from the high funnels into the air.

On the deck, people watched the relentless waves. Stacked in a corner were lifeboats that would barely accommodate a quarter of the passengers on the ship.

Glenn Cannon leaned against the handrails. He inhaled the cold air as the steamboat cruised along the Mississippi River. He loved passing time on the broiler deck whenever he wasn’t working because it gave him the time and space to think and clear his head.

His thoughts centered on Sylvia, the lady his heart beat for. She was on his mind every waking hour and before he closed his eyes at night.

Earlier that day, he saw a strawberry-blonde woman with a physique identical to hers, and his heart had skipped a beat. Then she turned around, revealing her face, and his muscles relaxed and his heartbeat normalized when he realized it was all in his head.

He planned to make his feelings known to her, once his savings were adequate to take care of her. Since the day he set his eyes on her, the green-eyed, strawberry-blonde girl had stolen his heart. He would love to spend the rest of his life with her.

Pirates! someone shouted.

They are armed to the teeth! another wailed.

They are everywhere! The third man ran past Glenn.

The passengers’ screams yanked him out of his reverie in an instant. Glenn turned around and saw about a dozen men or more, raggedy-looking, wielding different weapons of destruction ranging from swords, axes, rifles, and pistols, chasing after the passengers on the deck.

Some of the passengers tried to scamper to safety, but they were surrounded, and beyond the handrails of the ship was the Mississippi, a literal representation of being between the devil and the sea.

Empty your pockets! yelled a pirate with a jagged scar across his face.

Stand over there! Another pointed a rifle at a group of frightened-looking passengers. Many of them were women and children.

Get in line! Hands where I can see them! One with missing front teeth pushed some of the passengers like animals in a cage.

The armed bandits yelled out orders at the panicky people, pushing, pulling, and kicking those who tried to run away.

Glenn stood where he was, momentarily paralyzed. His heart thundered against his chest, forcing his mind to unwillingly process what was happening. How had the pirates gotten on the boat? Had they been disguised as passengers the whole time? How come the captain didn’t see them and raise an alarm?

The unanswered questions made his head ache. He heard other people shouting for help. His gaze darted about the deck. The noise wasn’t coming from the passengers on the deck but from those below.

Give me everything you have!

Don’t you dare hide a thing!

Shut that hole in your face and do as I say!

He swallowed hard. The pirates must have broken into groups of threes or fours when they got on the boat. It dawned on Glenn that they were robbing the passengers.

Anger brewed within him. He didn’t understand why able-bodied men found pleasure in stealing from others instead of enjoying the reward of their labor while making ends meet. That same moment, he realized that not everyone wanted to earn a living. Some were ready to take what others had at whatever cost.

A child of about four began to cry. He kept pointing at his toy, a small wooden boat lying upside down a few feet away.

Shut that child up! One of the pirates pointed a gun at the mother of the child.

She held unto her baby boy and lowered her head.

The boy kept on crying.

Shut him up or I will! The pirate glared at both mother and child.

Please. The woman went on her knees.

The relentless boy broke free from his mother’s firm grip and leaped toward his toy boat.

I warned you. The pirate jerked and pointed the gun at the child.

The mother began to scream. She went after her baby, stretching her hands out to grab him.

Glenn, who stood a few feet away, regained his composure. Without thinking, he jumped forward to help.

That same instant, the enraged pirate fired several shots.

Many of the passengers took cover.

Glenn wasn’t thinking properly; his only instinct was to save the boy from the incoming bullets. Other thoughts could come later, including thoughts of whether he was going to survive the act. Two forceful impacts hit him hard. It happened below his waistline as the height of the intended target was within that range.

He let out a low groan and fell on his side as darkness engulfed him.

* * *

Glenn opened his eyes; his vision was a blur. He shut his eyes and opened them again. Pain shot through the lower part of his body, making him cry out in distress

"Take it easy, Mr. Cannon. You’re going to be just fine.

I’m Doctor Carl." A smile tugged at the wrinkled corners of the man’s mouth, and his dark eyes were kind.

Glenn ran his tongue over his bruised lips and swallowed spittle. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt so parched it hurt.

The gunshot wounds you sustained on the steamboat will take a while to heal. The doctor cleared his throat.

Glenn blinked. His memories returned the next second. He had been working on a steamboat. Pirates had attacked them. Scene after scene, it all came back to him. The crying four-year-old child. The flying bullets. Getting shot.

Doctor Joe sat by the younger man’s bedside. I am sorry to inform you that.

Glenn noticed the perspiration in clusters around the doctor’s furrowed forehead.

It is so unfortunate, Mr. Cannon. He cleared his throat again.

Glenn met the sad dark eyes. His heart missed a beat. He knew he wouldn’t like what the doctor had to say. He wasn't ready to hear it either, but it was too late...

One of the bullets grazed your scrotum sac, causing irreversible damage. The doctor held his gaze.

A knot tightened in Glenn’s throat. What was the older man trying to tell him?

It is not impossible, but it will take a miracle for you to father a child from your loins.

The bad news rang like a church bell in his ears. Glenn started to cough

Mr. Cannon. Mr. Cannon, get a hold of yourself. The doctor grabbed him by the shoulder.

Glenn looked straight at the doctor, tried to speak again, but the cough persisted. His lungs felt like they were going to explode.

Mr. Cannon!

Everything faded.

* * *

Several weeks after the pirates’ attack, Glenn woke up in his own home, gasping for breath. He sat up and dragged air into his lungs. He exhaled loudly and took in a deep breath. He could feel his lungs expanding as he puffed out.

He closed his eyes and opened them again. Relief washed over him when he realized that he was in his bedroom instead of locked in a nightmare about that day on the steamboat. He looked toward the open window and saw hundreds of twinkling lights within the thick darkness.

His bedroom window revealed the tips and branches of a nearby tree. It was a way to watch the seasons go by, watch the times the leaves were green, turned brown, and when the branches were just bare. Many times, he’d gazed out this window, marking the seasons’ passing as the leaves turned green, yellow, brown, then withered and died, leaving the branches bare.

He pressed his lips together. He wished he could forget everything that happened that day. Maybe it would have been better if he’d lost his mind. Even after the gunshot wound healed, he didn’t go back. He just couldn’t.

His reason for taking the paddlewheel job in the first place had been defeated due to the lifelong injury he’d sustained. He wished he had gotten a premonition concerning working on the steamboat. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken up the job. He might have remained in Angel’s Ridge and searched for something that paid as much as what he earned on the boat.

His plan to court and marry Sylvia was annulled owing to his present condition. She would want a lovely family of her own with children to take care of. But he was in no position to give her that kind of life. He had nothing to offer her. He had to let go of his feelings for her and erase her memory from his mind. He doubted he could, but he must try. Either way, it was going to be difficult.

Convincing himself that it wasn’t about him anymore was the only way out. He had to think about what was good for her too. It was easy to become selfish in matters that concerned the heart. He wasn’t willing to follow that route; he would rather do the right thing. Even if it hurt.

He intended to apply to the marriage board and place an advertisement for a mail-order bride. His brother, Frank, had once applied, and it had turned out well for him. He hoped fate would smile upon him too. A woman who didn’t want children would be the best match for him.

The thought that Sylvia might end up with another man, a total stranger, gnawed at him. Would he ever be able to get over her? In one single moment, he’d saved the life of a child and lost a lifetime with his love interest. He’d lost everything that made him a man.

Glenn grabbed his head and yelled in frustration.

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chapter 1

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April 1871

Helena, Montana

Sylvia sat on the bed in her room, cleaning dust off some of her books. Rays of sunlight found their way into the room through the open window, giving it a certain glow. The thought of the children she taught that morning made her want to break into a smile. She could with the right side of her face, but the muscles on the other side of her face made it a tad difficult.

Earlier that day in the classroom, she’d asked them what they wanted to do when they grew older.

I want to be a hunter, a stout little boy cried with his right hand raised.

She pointed to another student.

A hunter, came the excited reply.

I would like to trade in merchandise just like my father, a dark-haired girl said.

When I grow up, I'm going to become a pirate, replied a red-haired boy.

The entire class had turned to the boy in shock.

Don't be silly, pirates always get killed and die young, his sister said, aghast.

That's not true, the buccaneers had nine lives, the red-haired boy cried.

The siblings argued while the other members of the class murmured to themselves about the boy’s choice of ambition. It had taken her a while to calm the class down. Why the little one wanted to live that kind of life, she might never know. She summed it all up to his imaginative mind.

Notwithstanding the hiccups now and then, she enjoyed teaching children. Spending time with them gave her purpose, and the little creatures made her feel alive. Unlike most adults, they saw nothing wrong with her face. It drooped on one side, making her look somewhat different.

When some people looked at her, they turned away quickly. Others kept staring, probably trying to decipher why one side of her face was different from the other. It did not come as a shock anymore when she heard whispers wherever she went.

Goodness, what is that?

Children, look away.

It's disgusting.

Hideous!

But a few unique others were not bothered about her facial features. They treated her no differently than the way they related to other people.

A folded paper lay on her table; one of her students had given it to her. On it was a painting of a princess in a tiara and pink dress standing next to a castle.

When she was younger, she used to imagine living in a castle, married to Prince Charming, with lots and lots of children. But when she grew older, her dreams changed. Mostly because of her late father. Because of him, she wasn’t looking forward to raising children of her own. She might never have a child of her own.

The man she called Father changed after the death of their mother. Either he was possessed or he simply he took his frustrations out on her and her siblings. It didn’t matter anymore.

Sylvia closed her right eye. She could still remember the way he beat them for no just cause. The thought of the experience still made her flinch. Her elder sister, Evelyn, had it worse than they did. So many times, she hid them, while the man unleashed his anger on her.

She still didn’t understand how someone who claimed to love them could inflict such pain without remorse.

Perhaps he lost his mind somewhere along the way?

She decided she was only giving him excuses for the terrible things he did to them. No matter how lost he got, it was no justification to instill pain, fear, and scar her permanently.

She shook her head, trying to turn off the sad memories. Then opened her right eye. She used to wonder what manner of man would ever agree to marry her, knowing fully well that she didn’t want children. She wasn’t sure that kind of man existed.

She ran her fingers over the left side of her face. It felt stiff and crude. There was a time she avoided touching it. Even if she stood in front of the mirror, she avoided looking at herself. She used to pray that her face would return to normal, but nothing happened. If she had a magic wand, she would have turned her face back to how it was. She’d come to terms with it eventually.

She breathed out loudly and moved her hand to her left ear. The pain made her wince. She felt that same pain all through the night occasionally. She looked toward her reading table.

Where did I place the bottle of anesthesia?

She got to her feet and looked around the room.

When was the last time she’d cleaned the place? Her busyness with the children often made her procrastinate about what she ought to do regularly. She made a mental note to do a rearrangement. She didn’t like looking for things, especially when she wanted to use it in that same period.

Since the accident that led to the stroke that caused her facial paralysis, she often got tormented by aches and discomfort in the front or behind her left ear. The first doctor she saw recommended some medicine. It gave her relief for a long while, but the pain returned.

Aside from the inability to smile, there were several things she couldn’t do with her face anymore. She couldn't close her left eye. And whenever she turned in for the night, she tied a piece of cloth over the eye. That way, she could have some restful sleep.

She remembered her sisters, Evelyn and Irene, calling her a one-eyed pirate because of the piece of cloth on her eye.

Sylvia sighted the almost empty bottle of anesthesia beside her box of jewelry and sighed in relief. One spoonful of the content was enough to chase her ear pains away for days.

Sylvia?

She jumped at the sound of her name. Standing at the door of her room was June, the lady she shared the house with. June was also a teacher at the school.

Did I startle you? The letters arrived today, this one is for you. The jet-black-haired woman waved a sealed white envelope at her.

Thank you, I was wondering if they would still come in today, Sylvia said, taking the letter from June.

Better late than never, June said before leaving the room.

Carefully, Sylvia removed the stamp and transferred it to an open book on her desk. Collecting stamps was a little hobby of hers.

With the stamp safe in her book, she unsealed the envelope and read its contents as slowly as she could.

She sat back on the bed and flickered her gaze back to the letter in her hand. She liked the clear handwriting. She tried to smile with the right side of her face. She thought of the man who wrote the letter to her.

What did he look like? Was he tall or short? Was he slim, fat, muscled, or in-between? Was he easy on the eye or just plain looking? He didn’t send his pictures and neither did she. At first, it didn’t matter.

Her heart missed a beat. What if he changed his mind once he set eyes upon her? Her initial anxiety returned.

The fear that no man would ever find her desirable enough to want to sleep with her or spend the rest of his life with her had made her apply to the marriage board in the first place. As a mail-order bride, she was certain she would be in control of her fate.

The first time she received a letter from the man, she felt a glimmer of hope in her heart. He didn’t want children either. All he wanted was a single young woman who was ready to agree to his terms and marry him.

They had exchanging letters for more than a few weeks. But the last letter came with a ticket. In a few days, she would meet the man at Angel’s Ridge and hopefully, get married to him the very next day.

Sylvia lay back on her bed, overwhelmed with contentment and a tinge of excitement. She was looking forward to traveling to Angel’s Ridge. The thought of seeing her sisters again made her happy. She planned to ask them to help her shop for a wedding dress and every other thing she needed.

The last time they wrote to her, Evelyn penned about Mabel’s recent visit. Mabel Stokes was her husband’s cousin. She once stayed with the lady at Willow’s Bend while acquiring a better education. If Mabel was still around when she arrived at Angel’s Ridge, she would ask her to help her with the cooking and wedding preparations.

Her heart began to race when she thought of how her sisters would react to the news of her marriage to a stranger. She didn’t tell anyone that she was becoming a mail-order bride. She feared they would fight her decision. She didn’t tell them about her fears and insecurities either. What if her sisters refuse to support her? What if they try to stop the wedding? What was she going to do?

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chapter 2

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April 1871

Angel’s Ridge, Montana

Glenn opened his eyes slightly and turned toward the window. The glowing rays streaming in illuminated the semi-dark bedroom. He yawned loudly, it sounded more like a growl, and stretched out his arms.

He lay on his back and pondered his plan for the day. A nagging feeling tugged at him. He sensed that there was something else he was supposed to do later that day. He narrowed his gaze and thought hard. What was it? A tremor coursed down his spine when he remembered that his mail-order bride was arriving this afternoon. He sat up immediately. Fear mixed with excitement welled up within him.

She is arriving today!

His heart began to pound against his chest a little bit harder.

He had no inkling what she was about, aside from the fact that she was twenty years old, and she didn’t want children either. Her letters were receptive, but he couldn’t tell much about her personality or what she looked like. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if she didn’t like him? So many other questions troubled him. He closed his eyes in frustration and took in a deep breath.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Glenn. Take it a day at a time.

He opened his eyes and sighed heavily. He needed to get a hold of himself. He must hope for the very best. He looked around the room and frowned. What would she think of him? He gave a shake of his head and got to his feet. Occasionally, he kept the house in order, but there were days when he got too busy for his own good.

He decided to give the entire house a proper cleaning before the arrival of his bride. Thoughts of what she looked like began to plague him again, making him regret not sharing pictures with her.

* * *

Glenn held his breath when the train became visible. His heart hammered against his chest erratically. He had no hint what to expect and for a brief moment, he thought of leaving.

He could turn around, get on his horse, and head back home. Whoever the mail order bride turned out to be, she wouldn’t be able to follow or find him. But how was she supposed to return to where she was coming from? What if she didn’t come with money?

These questions gnawed at him. He pushed the selfish thoughts away and stood his ground. He mustn’t allow fear to ruin his chances of getting married, even if she was a total stranger. At least both of them would try as much as possible to build a home without children.

The train came to a halt, and the passengers began to move out in twos and threes, carrying their light and heavy luggage. Those with toddlers and babies took care of climbing down the short steps.

Soon enough, people began to call out to their loved ones. Couples ran into each other’s arms, hugged, and kissed. Friends reach out to one another in a warm embrace. Children reunited with one or both parents. Their laughter and screams of joy rent the air.

Glenn narrowed his eyes when he saw a young woman. She came out of the train, wearing a pink bonnet, and her strawberry-blond hair caught his attention. He knew a few people with that hair color. But only one of them held his heart hostage—Sylvia Fry.

The last time he saw her was at his brother’s celebration party. And by the time he returned home after the steamboat accident, he found out that she was living at Willows Bend with Mabel, his cousin.

He ran his tongue over his dry lips and took a closer look at her. Pert nose, rosy cheeks, heart-shaped face elegantly set on a slender neck, body draped in a pink silk morning dress covered with ruffles and pleated frills.

Her head turned in his direction, and their gazes met. Her green eyes flickered away, then returned in an instant. Recognition hit him. She was the one! It was definitely Sylvia! His