The Damaged Bride (Mail-Order Bride Book 6) Read online

  The Damaged Bride

  ©2019 by Stella Clark

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

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  Chapter One

  Clara carried the last water pitcher into room fifty four and placed it on the small dresser. Her right foot trembled and she knew that if she didn’t sit down soon, it would give way. She said a silent prayer that Mrs. Smith, her employer, would not have another chore for her.

  Refilling the pitchers of all the rooms in the hotel was usually her last task of the day, but sometimes Mrs. Smith added more jobs. As Clara trudged down the stairs, she heard Mrs. Smith’s distinct sharp voice coming from the parlor.

  She tiptoed past, her breath held, hoping the other woman would not see her. Sometimes Clara thought her employer could see through walls as she seemed to know the exact moment Clara was done with a task. In the kitchen she found the cook, a sweet, friendly woman.

  “Mrs. Jones, I’m finished for the day,” Clara said, trying to keep her mind from her throbbing leg. “May I leave?”

  “Go on, love, you’ve been on your feet all day,” Mrs. Jones said, turning away from the stove. “I’ll tell Mrs. Smith.”

  Clara shot her a grateful look and, taking her cloak from a nail behind the back door, she left the hotel. All she had to do was walk the twenty minutes to her home on the outskirts of town. She could do it, Clara told herself, gripping her right thigh.

  With every step she took, the pain grew worse, and when the cottage she called home came into view, Clara almost wept. She pushed the door open, made straight for the parlor, and sank into a chair. Shutting her eyes, she leaned back and reveled in resting her feet after working all day.

  A key turning alerted her to her father’s arrival. She stiffened. Despite her eyes been closed, she could tell that he was in the parlor, staring at her. The hair on her neck stiffened and her mouth went dry. He had a sharp tongue, that was all, Clara comforted herself. He would not hurt her.

  A smell wafted up her nose. He had been drinking. It made him meaner than usual.

  “No wonder your mother left.”

  The words cut to Clara’s core and wounded her as they were meant to.

  “I should have followed her,” he father continued. “But no, I chose to stay, and this is the thanks I get!” He shouted the last words.

  Clara opened her eyes and met his beady red eyes, glaring at her.

  “What did I do to get saddled with a lazy daughter? No smart man will have you, and I’m expected to take care of you all my life?”

  “I’m just resting a while, Father. My leg hurts,” Clara explained, keeping her tone even.

  He sneered. “What would you do if you didn’t have that leg for an excuse?”

  “You know it’s not—” Clara started to say, and then clammed up. What was the use of defending herself?

  Her father never ceased to remind her that she was the reason her mother had walked out on them some thirteen years ago. There was no one to confirm or deny his version of events as Clara herself had been nine years old.

  A log had fallen on her right leg when she was two years old and since then, she had always walked with a limp and it hurt when she stood for too long. She barely managed at her maid job in the hotel as it involved a lot of standing. Clara made sure to sit down for a few minutes every hour.

  Unfortunately, Mrs. Smith had caught her resting her leg several times, and Clara was afraid she would lose her job. If that happened, she had no doubt that her father would chase her away from home. She would be useless to him then. With an ache that was almost a physical pain, her thoughts returned to her mother.

  If she was still with them, her father would not be insulting her every day, and Clara would not be contemplating going west as a mail order bride. She could not clearly recall her mother’s features. All she remembered was that her mother had a permanently worn-out expression.

  She thought of the Matrimonial News ad she had hidden under her mattress. Every night before she slept, she looked at it and dreamed of how her life could be if she made the decision to write to the gentleman. She had read the ad so many times that it was now imprinted in her brain.

  A rancher gentleman, 26 years of age, desires to correspond with a young lady with a view to matrimony. She must be hardworking and ready to make a home. In return she will be provided for and will not lack for anything.

  The word ranch had gotten Clara’s imagination running. She thought of wide open spaces as far as the eyes could see and waking up to the chirping of birds. Life on a ranch sounded perfect. Only she hadn’t yet mustered the courage to write to the gentleman.

  “Get up and go and cook us some supper!” her father shouted, making her jump.

  She slowly got to her feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain. In the privacy of the kitchen, she allowed the tears to come. She clamped her hand to her mouth to keep her sobs silent. The temptation to write to the gentleman in Kansas felt urgent.

  But would he be interested in her if he knew that she had a bad leg? Clara tried to tell herself that she was hardworking, which more than made up for her lame leg, but to know that, he had to invite her to Kansas first. A plan formed in her mind as she diced onions and vegetables for the stew.

  She wouldn’t tell him about her leg in her letter. It was a small lie, Clara told herself.

  Chapter Two

  Nate threw the last of the corn seeds into the soil, covered it, and sighed with relief as he surveyed his land. Just that morning, he’d gone to the dry goods store in town and bought corn seeds for another acre. He had a good feeling about this year’s harvest. It was going to be bountiful. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face as he picked up his hoe and made his way out of the field.

  Dusk enveloped him as he walked towards the house. His muscles ached from exhaustion, but he felt exhilarated at having finished planting. There was still a lot more work to be done. Farm work was never done, and there was a whole list of chores waiting for the following day.

  He could not help but admire his house as he climbed up the steps that led to the porch. It was simple but comfortable, and he liked nothing better than returning home in the evening after a hard day at work. The only thing missing was a wife, Nate mused, his mind shifting to the letter he had picked up from the post office that morning.

  There had been no time to open and read it, as he had wanted to finish planting. Now, he lit a lantern and made his way to the kitchen and washed his hands and face. His stomach growled from hunger. He started a fire in the cookstove and heated the leftover potatoes and chunks of meat from the previous night.

  Food was another reason he looked forward to having a wife. He ate the same thing almost every night and lunch. On some weekends, he visited his sister’s boarding house in town for a good wholesome meal. But it had been a while, since he had been busy making sure everything was planted on time.

  As he waited f
or the food to heat up, he fetched the letter from the parlor and returned with it to the kitchen. It was postmarked Chicago. He frowned. A city girl. What would she know about living in a farm? His insides clenched with apprehension, he tore the envelope and slipped out the letter.

  Dear Mr. Nate Linch,

  My name is Clara Slater and I’m replying to your mail order bride ad in the Matrimonial News. I suppose I had better tell you a little about myself. I’m twenty three years of age, with blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m of slight build but quite strong. I have never lived on a farm, but I look forward to learning all I need to as I’m not fearful of hard work. I live alone with my father and work as a maid in a hotel in the city.

  I would really like to come to the West as I want a life away from the city. There’s not much else to tell, really, other than that I love children and would love to make a home with you.

  I look forward to a favorable reply.

  Sincerely,

  Clara Slater.

  It was short and to the point and Nate liked that. What caught his interest was the part that said she worked as a maid in town. He beamed, pleased that the very first woman who had replied to his ad seemed what he was looking for.

  Unlike other men, Nate had no interest in a woman’s looks as long as she could do the work. There was too much to do at the ranch, and he needed someone to help him. Of course, there was also the small issue of children. He wanted quite a number, and he hoped he could achieve that without too much emotional attachment to their mother.

  Inevitably, his mind returned to his own childhood. He had grown up in an orphanage all because his father had loved his wife. He would be smarter than his wife, Nate had decided. He would not let a woman destroy him. He glanced at the letter again.

  Miss Clara seemed like a woman who was not prone to romance and all that nonsense. He hoped so, otherwise, she would be terribly disappointed. He had been careful when he had worded the ad. There had been no mention of the word love.

  If she had read it carefully, she would know that he was offering everything else except love and affection. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for Clara to come to Kansas. Together, they would make the farm one of the most profitable enterprises in the state.

  If things went as planned, Nate had big plans to expand his acreage and venture into beef cattle farming in the coming years. All his plans would only work if he married the right woman. Someone who was physically strong and hardworking.

  One who could work alongside him, bear him many children, and also lend a hand in the farm. The more children they had, the better. That meant reliable people and lower labor costs.

  He became aware of the scent of the stew as it simmered in the pot. He put the letter down and went to serve himself dinner. As he ate, plans whirled in his brain. His children would be proud of him, and at the end of his days, he would know he had lived a useful life. He’d been successful despite a difficult start to his life.

  As soon as he was done with dinner, he rinsed off his plate and proceeded to pen a reply to Miss Clara. He had decided to invite her to Kansas with the intentions of marrying her. His hand shook with excitement and he had to stop writing to get his emotions under control.

  Advertising for a mail order bride was the smartest thing he had done. His life had taken on new meaning, and now he could see his dreams coming to be.

  Chapter Three

  Through the dawn light streaming in from the drapes, Clara stood and took in the room she had slept in all her life. Her eyes were swollen from crying most of the night. Finally, with a last lingering look, she picked up her bags from the floor and trudged out of the room.

  Her pa’s room was down the hallway and she paused as she went past. His snores came through the door and she closed her eyes as she wrestled with herself. Her plan had been to sneak out of the cottage and leave before Pa woke up.

  Now, her heart ached at the thought of leaving without saying goodbye. No matter how much he had insulted her in the past, he was still her father, and a part of her loved him. She inhaled sharply, placed her bags on the floor, and then knocked on the door.

  No response. She knocked again, a little louder.

  “Yes? That you Clara?” Pa shouted from inside.

  “Yes, Pa,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “What do you want?”

  She pushed the door open and peered in. It was completely dark in the room with the drapes drawn. “I’m leaving, Pa.”

  Silence.

  “Pa?”

  He grunted.

  Clara forced herself to go on. “I’m going to the west to get married. Kansas. I replied to a mail order ad and he proposed.”

  “You know that he’ll take one look at that leg and send you right back,” her father said.

  His words cut right through her heart and for a few seconds, she could not speak. Her chest squeezed with pain and tears jumped to her eyes. Why did he have to be so cruel? He had voiced the exact sentiments that had kept her awake for many nights.

  “Goodbye, Pa,” Clara said, her voice heavy with emotion. She shut the door, picked up her bags, and left the house.

  The street was empty at this time of morning, but Clara’s mind was on what her pa had said. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, or else she would give in to the fear and return home. The fear of rejection was real and grew with every step she took.

  Then she thought of the alternative. Spending the rest of her life with her father. That would be worse than anything that might be waiting for her in Kansas. That thought replaced fear with hope. She was moving to Kansas to become the wife of Nate Linch.

  She had been surprised when she received his letter inviting her to Kansas after exchanging only one letter. She had put it down to enthusiasm, on his part and she couldn’t wait to meet him. He had described his home and that had stirred up her longings to leave.

  In her fantasies, she saw herself working side by side with him in the fields and then, after a long day at work, retiring to their chambers. That part always made her blush. Working in a hotel meant that she was well versed in men and women’s relationships.

  She hoped that as soon as she clapped her eyes on him, she would fall in love. Joy flooded her as she entered the depot and made her way to the ticket office. Everything was going to work out just fine, her instincts screamed.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Clara was in the passenger car, seated between two women and their families. It was not the most comfortable arrangement, but Clara refused to let the discomfort bother her. What mattered was that she would be in Kansas in a few days to begin her new life.

  As the train inched out of the depot, the two families in the car pressed their noses to the window to say goodbye to their loved ones who had come to see them off. A thickness formed in her throat and Clara blinked back tears. It would have been lovely if her pa had made the effort to see her off at the station.

  He had behaved as if he was glad to be rid of her. It hurt, and it shouldn’t have. He had never once shown her any affection as she was growing up. Why had she expected anything different? A soft hand landed on her lap, bringing Clara back to the present.

  “Feeling sad at leaving your family?” the brown-haired woman on her left asked.

  Clara tried to smile. “Yes.”

  “It gets easier,” she said. “This is the third time we’re moving in two years,” she confided with a wink. “My husband has itchy feet, but I hope that this time, it will be our last move. My name is Elizabeth Sears.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mine’s Clara Slater.”

  The toddler on the woman’s lap wiggled and she changed his position. “It’s nice to meet you too. You can never have enough friends, especially when you’re moving to a new home.”

  “Where are you moving to?” Clara asked, happy to have a distraction from her thoughts.

  “To Montana,” she said. “My husband went ahead of us by a few months to lay a claim and bui
ld us a home.”

  Clara had no idea what a claim was, but she nodded nonetheless.

  “What about yourself?”

  “I’m going to get married,” Clara said.

  “Oh, how exciting. Your fiancé went on ahead as my husband did?”

  “No, we haven’t even met. I answered a mail order bride ad in the newspaper,” Clara explained, and then dissolved into giggles at the other woman’s shocked expression.

  “You’re a brave woman,” she exclaimed.

  Clara’s heart swelled with pride and she felt like she was six feet tall. It was true. She was brave. After all, she had not given in to the fears that had plagued her before she left home. She would weather whatever storms came her way as long as she had a roof over her head and food to eat.

  “I am,” she said to the woman and beamed.

  Chapter Four

  Nate stared moodily at the horizon and willed the train to come. There was still much to be done in the farm before the day was over. It was already half an hour late. His gaze lifted up to the sky and took in the blue skies. The sun was out, but not hot enough to burn.

  He liked spring, and now, he would get even more done with Clara to help him. Just then, a whistle cut into the silence in the depot and the train appeared in the distance. His heartbeat raced and drummed in his chest. The moment he had been looking forward to for months had finally arrived.

  The train slowed down and came to a stop along the platform. Nate stepped back to better observe the passengers as they stepped off the train. Several people disembarked and then his attention was caught by a pretty blonde-haired woman getting off the train.

  Mesmerized, he watched as she gingerly stepped on the platform and then bent to rub her right leg. She looked so delicate and completely out of place in Kansas. She belonged in the east, surrounded by luxury and servants to see to her every need.