Pearl of Promise (A Sweet Mail Order Bride Western) (The Brides of Carville) (2 page)

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.  “As long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy.”

Chapter 2

Nora leaned over, stoking the wood coals in the woodstove, then carefully placing a fresh piece of wood in, and closing the stove door.  She stood upright with a groan, rubbing her back.  She was eight months along now, and the weight of the baby in her belly made every task twice the chore it once was.

Nine months had passed since she’d arrived in Carville, and other than the baby she was expecting, not much had changed.  Every day was the same as the last—cooking, washing dishes, cleaning, scrubbing the laundry over the washtub—the chores never ended.  There was never any sense of accomplishment, because no sooner did she complete something—a stack of dishes, a pile of laundry—then it needed to be done all over again.  The clothes Arlen wore in the mines were impossible to get clean, and he tracked dirt all over the house every time he came home, no matter how careful he tried to be.

The worst part was the isolation.  The closest thing to socializing that Nora had taken part in was walking two miles to the nearest neighbor, Louise, to have a chat.  But even that small joy was taken from her when the heavy snows set in, and her growing belly prevented her from walking far, anyway. 

But at least she had her books.  Or, she used to have them.  It had been months since she’d been able to go in town and exchange books with any of the ladies at church.  She’d been re-reading the last few books she had, and was bored to tears with them already.  As a fast reader, she could finish a book in a few days, despite the limited time she had available for reading. 

“Will dinner be long?” Arlen asked from the corner.  It was Sunday, and he was reading the Bible in lieu of going to church. 

That had been yet another disappointment.  When the weather was at all bad, Arlen insisted on “churching at home”, rather than risk the baby.  He said most of the mountain folk stayed at home on snowy days during the worst of the winter.  Nora wouldn’t know if that was true or not—she hadn’t been to church in two months, to be able to ask anyone. 

“Not long,” she replied, lifting the pot and checking on the stew.  She was tired of cooking meals in a pot.  She longed to do more baking, but they didn’t own a cookstove, only a regular box stove, so stovetop cooking was all she could do.  Sometimes she’d use a Dutch oven inside the stove, on top of the coals, or stick potatoes into the cooling coals, but mostly she had to cook on the stovetop. 

Even their home was a disappointment—Arlen had promised to build a new home, but instead all he’d done was add a small room bedroom onto the cabin.  It gave a little more elbow room in the main room of the cabin, and allowed for a
cradle in the corner, near the woodstove, for when the baby came…but that was all.

It wasn’t Arlen’s fault—finances were tight.  He was a good, kind man, and she knew if he could, he’d have built her a palace, just to make her happy.  She always put on a brave face for him, and smiled brightly, so that he wouldn’t know just how disappointed she was with their life.

The adventures she’d hoped for in the West hadn’t materialized.  Nothing exciting had happened—no forest fires, no Indians, no raids, no kidnappings, no stagecoach robberies, nothing!  Worse yet, there were no libraries nearby, and it was hard finding a woman in town to trade books with who had adventure novels instead of romances, so she couldn’t even
read
about adventures, anymore.  Carville was every bit as dull as Harrisburg, but with nothing fun to do, and no libraries. 

Arlen closed his Bible and set it aside.  “I think I’ll go check on the horses.” 

She watched him bundle up and head out into the whirling snow, which never seemed to cease.  She often wondered if spring would ever come.

Nora walked over to the window and watched her husband’s figure disappear into the snow and shadows.  It was almost dark—it got dark so early—and another day was nearly done. 

Arlen had been a disappointment, too.  He was sweet and wonderful in so many ways, but he wasn’t the brave adventure hero that she had hoped he would be.  He was quiet most of the time, and didn’t talk much.  As lonely as she was during the warm months, when he worked from sun up to sun down, it wasn’t much better now that the mines were closed for the winter and he was home most of the time.  Arlen was a homebody, and enjoyed the simple, quiet pleasures of his land.  He had no need or desire to seek out excitement.

Nora, on the other hand, yearned for it
.  If I’d wanted to be barefoot and pregnant and tied to the house, I could have stayed in Harrisburg.  At least there was a library there!
she thought.  She tried to push away such ill-mannered ideas, but she couldn’t help it.  She’d come to Colorado to have a different kind of life than her friends had.  They’d all married successful men, settled down, and started having babies.  The highlight of their weeks had been having tea and playing whist together, or volunteering for church charity drives. 

She had viewed such activities with disdain, and felt sorry for her friends, who had so little foresight or ambition.  Nora was going to have a better life—she was going to experience life!  Instead of volunteering at charity drives, she had imagined herself tending to the sick during epidemics on the frontier, and instead of tea and whist, she had imagined herself rescuing children after an Indian raid. 

Now, she’d give her right arm for a charity drive, or tea and whist. 

How did my life turn out this way?
she whispered as she gazed out onto the wonderland of white. 
How could the thrilling plans I had for my life end up in such dreariness?

Minutes must have passed without her realizing it, because soon a dark shadow emerged from the dervish of snow, and Arlen was coming inside, stomping the snow off his boots before he entered.

“How are the horses doing?” she asked brightly, pasting a smile on her face.  She didn’t want to disappoint her husband or hurt his feelings by letting him know how miserable she was. 

“Good,” he said, shedding his coat.  He glanced at Nora, regarding her with a strange expression.  “They’re good.  It isn’t too cold out there for them, and I broke the ice from the trough and gave them a
little more hay.”

Nora suspected Arlen might be a bit bored as well—he checked on the horses at least three times a day, of late.

“I’ll dish out the stew,” she said.

**

Arlen watched Nora as they ate in silence.  He’d noticed that her bright, ebullient personality had slowly eroded over the months into a quiet, melancholic demeanor.  It worried him—he remembered the same thing happening with Sylvie.  Only with her, it had happened more slowly, as the months and then the years had passed, without conceiving a child.

But Nora had conceived almost right away.  What was there to be sad about?  Weren’t expectant women supposed to be excited?  At least, for the first child?  He could understand if they were expecting their fifth, and she was feeling overwhelmed—but this was their first, and the amount of work she currently had around the house was nothing compared to what it would be someday when they had a big family.

The situation perplexed him.  She had promised that she was eager to move west, and thrilled at the prospect of living on the frontier.  But what had changed?  Perhaps it was those books she hoarded, and loved reading over and over again—the ones that spoke of thrilling adventure, as if every day on the frontier was one round of fun and excitement after another.

The plain fact was that frontier life was hard, and if there was “excitement” to be had, it usually involved your life being at risk—fire, flood, famine, accidents, or illness.  That was the kind of “thrilling adventure” to be had in the West.  He’d tried to warn her—tried to make it clear how tough life could be, and how lonely.  But if she was reading those books all the time, they were probably just making the situation worse.  Life was about responsibility, and providing for your family—not entertainment.  If Nora didn’t get such silly notions out of her head, she might never be satisfied settling down and living a sensible life with him.

Maybe it’s time I put a stop to all this book reading, he thought.  Or get her to read something else.  Maybe then she’ll accept the small pleasures in life with some real appreciation, and let go of these grandiose ideas of hers. 

He missed Nora’s brilliant, girlish smile that he’d seen so often when she’d first arrived.  Maybe once she’d adjusted, and appreciated the beauty of her surroundings
, her smiles would return again, and he wouldn’t need to fear her leaving.

Arlen couldn’t face another wife abandoning him.

Then again, Sylvie had up and left because she
could
.  She didn’t have a baby tying her down, so the decision to leave—to toss him aside like a soiled rag—was easily made.  Nora, on the other hand, was already expecting.  She had a baby to consider.  And once the baby was born, traveling and making plans would be even more difficult.

He could see the weariness around her eyes as she ate, and he thought of all the times shortly after they had married, when they went for walks in the woods, or hiking up into the mountains.  Nora had packed a delicious picnic luncheon on those occasions, and he would spread a blanket in the shade of a tree, and while they ate, they would tell stories of their younger days, and learn many things about each other. 

They held hands, and she’d smile it him, and when he kissed her, she’d blush and admonish him to save it for the bedroom, even though there wasn’t another soul in sight.  She’d been so alive and lovely. 
She still is lovely
, he thought,
but tired.  Tired and sad.
 

Arlen chewed his food, watching his wife, who rarely looked up from her plate.

Yes, things will be better if I can keep her here on our claim, and away from those books—which will be a whole lot easier once the baby comes along.

Chapter
3

The warmer days had finally reached their home above Carville, and Nora and Arlen’s first anniversary had come and gone.  But Nora was still tied to the house, and rarely saw town.

At first, Arlen’s excuse had been the baby—little Gwendolyn had been born three months before, just after the snows had begun to melt.  Arlen didn’t think she should venture out to church for the first few weeks, especially with it still being so chilly.  He was right, of course.  And as a new mother, she couldn’t go anywhere without Gwen. 

Once Gwen was a month old, she thought it would be fine to take the baby to church, but Arlen insisted that they should wait a while longer.  So they read the Bible at home, and prayed together. 

It was nice that Arlen was so protective of Gwen, but by two months after Gwen’s birth,
Nora became quite irritable.  She began to resent Arlen for keeping her from town, especially on Sundays.  She insisted that she should at least be able to go to church.  At last he relented, and Nora was thrilled—finally she’d get to see her other friends at church again!  She remembered to pack a few books in with the satchel of baby necessities before they left for church—she was sure of it—but when they got to church, the books weren’t there.  She was devastated that she wouldn’t be able to trade books with the other ladies. 

The next Sunday, she double-checked the bag before they left, and found the books gone again.  She hurried back inside, to Arlen’s protests, and found them tucked in a corner of the kitchen.  After church that day, when she tried to chat with the other ladies, no sooner did Nora pull the books out of the bag, but Arlen was at her side, tugging on her elbow and insisting they needed to leave.

Arlen was trying to keep her from getting new books.

The revelation had been shocking.  He knew how much reading meant to her—next to Gwen and Arlen, books were the most important things in her life!  How could he be so cruel?

In the two weeks since then, Nora’s resentment of Arlen grew.  He wasn’t the man she had thought him to be.  He was controlling and manipulative.  He wanted her locked away in their mountain cabin, with no friends, no books—nothing!  If she had thought her life was lonely and miserable before, she was wrong.  Those dark, cold days of winter paled in comparison to the sunny, warm days of summer, trapped on their claim. 

Every time Nora suggested they go into town, Arlen found a reason to say no.  When, at last, he was forced to consent to a trip, he insisted it had to be done on one of his days off, so he could go along.  The prior summer, he’d always let her go alone, but now he claimed it wasn’t safe. 

Things got so bad that when Louise came by for a visit, she begged Louise to trade some books for her in town, and bring them back.

“Why can’t you do it?  Aren’t you feeling well?” Louise asked.

Nora was mortified, and turned toward the stove to fetch the whistling teakettle.  “I…uh…I think Arlen doesn’t approve of me reading.”

Louise’s mouth fell open.  “That can’t be true!  The Arlen Hunt I know isn’t the kind of man to want to keep his wife from broadening her mind.”

“I didn’t think so, either,” Nora said, pouring the hot water into the two teacups on the table, “but suddenly, he’s doing anything he can to keep me from getting new books.  One day I was going to walk over to your place with Gwen, to see if you had a new book I could borrow, and when I mentioned it to Arlen, he was furious.  We had a terrible fight.”

“I don’t understand,” Louise shook her head
as she lifted her teacup and blew over the steamy contents.  “Why would he want to keep you from books.  Does he think you’re not tending to the housework?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t think so—I have been struggling a bit, keeping up with the laund
ry, because of Gwen’s diapers.”  Nora sat at the table with a sigh, glad for a chance to get off her feet.  “But I’m mostly caught up now.  I can’t see that he wouldn’t understand about that.”

“Well, I’d be happy to bring you a book, Nora, but…if Arlen doesn’t approve, I don’t think my Stanley would like me doing it.  Even if Stanley didn’t care for Arlen’s stance on the subject, he’d say I shouldn’t meddle.”

Nora blushed.  “I wasn’t asking you to meddle—”

“Oh, I know you weren’t!” Louise added quickly.  “But you know how menfolk are—they don’t want to step on each other’s toes.”

Nora nodded, blinking back tears.  “I understand.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it.”
  Louise leaned back, glancing toward the corner where her toddler, Mary, played quietly.  The older two children were home, helping their father with chores.

“I tried!  The last time, when we argued, I tried to explain to him how important my reading is, but he was so angry, he wasn’t even hearing me.  He stormed off to the mine, and when he came back that evening, he pretended as if nothing had happened.”

“I’m sorry this is happening, but don’t worry.  Stanley and I went through an adjustment period after we first married, and we worked things out.  I’m sure you will.”

“But we’ve been married over a year already.  Shouldn’t things have worked themselves out by now, rather than getting worse?”

Louise bit her lip.  “I don’t know.  You…you don’t think this is why Sylvie left, do you?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve wondered that myself a few times.  But then I feel awful for even thinking it.  He said Sylvie just up and left, and didn’t even try to work things out.  He said she was just homesick, and didn’t like the loneliness.  To be honest…I’m starting to understand why.”

“We didn’t live here when Sylvie did—she’d been dead and gone three years when we moved to Carville.  So I don’t know much more than what I heard about it in town—which is only that she left him, and not long after, a cable came to announce her passing.”

“It’s a terrible thing.  I feel awful for Arlen.  He’s a good man—really he is.” Nora took a hesitant sip of the hot tea, the cup trembling in her hands.  “I didn’t marry him for love, but I’d become quite attached to him…then all this happened.”  She waved her hand in the air.  “And now I just don’t know what to think.”

“You’re not thinking of leaving him, are you?” Louise gasped.

“No!  No, of course not,” Nora lied. 

The truth was, she
had
thought about it.  Not seriously, of course.  But lately, she’d turned to making up her own stories in her head to pass the time, since she had nothing to read.  Sometimes, when she felt particularly resentful, her thoughts turned to home—to her family, her old friends, and all the wonderful, familiar things about Harrisburg.  Then in her mind, she’d imagine taking Gwen and getting on the train…and all the wonderful, interesting people she would meet on it, as the train chugged its way toward the east coast. 

“I’m glad you’re thinking clearly,” Louise said, resting back in her chair.  “You had me worried.  I know marriage is hard sometimes, but we can’t give up on it.  We’re married
to our husbands in the eyes of God, and that’s not something to take lightly.”

“I don’t.”

And she didn’t.  She wanted to make her marriage work.  But sometimes…those stories in her head were so much more interesting than anything that was happening in her real life. 

She found herself turning to them over and over again for comfort.

**

“What do you mean, we’re not going?”

“I don’t feel well,” Arlen mumbled.  It wasn’t a complete lie—the idea of going to the church social made him ill.  “I’m not up to sitting around in the hot all day.”

“There will be plenty of shade to sit in.  Please, Arlen.  I spent all morning making this cake—it’s lemon, your favorite!”

The crushed look on Nora’s face made him feel like a heel…and the guilt of that only served to irritate him.  “I
told
you, I’m not feeling well.  And I work hard all week—shouldn’t I get a chance to relax?”

Nora threw the icing-covered spoon back into the bowl.  “And
I
don’t work all week?  I spend all day, every day, washing diapers, feeding Gwen, scrubbing the house, making your meals, and tending to the garden.  When you come home and put your feet up, I’m serving dinner and washing up afterward!  Don’t I deserve to relax?  To spend a few hours—for once—with other adults, having adult conversations?”

Arlen was furious—if she knew how hard he worked down in the mines, and how dangerous it was, she’d never say such things.  But he saw the tears glistening in her eyes, and bit back his angry retort.  Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.  “Fine.  We’ll go.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.  “This is really important to me.  I’ve been telling you for weeks how much I wanted to go.”

“I said we could go, didn’t I?” he snapped.  He saw her eyes go wide before she turned away, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping away a tear that had fallen.

“I’m sorry, Arlen.”  She took the bowl and spoon to the washtub to clean them up.

He wanted to apologize, but he just couldn’t find the words.  Instead, he turned and walked out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

The fear of losing Nora had surged over the last few weeks, until it threatened to choke him.  All he could think about was how much she meant to him.  He cared so much for her.  And now, with Gwen having arrived, the idea of Nora walking out on him was devastating. 

It had gotten so bad that every evening when he rode home from the mine, he got terrible pains in his stomach the closer he got to home…and they didn’t go away until he heard Nora bustling about in the house as he came toward the cabin from putting up the horse, or he walked in to find her sitting in a chair, nursing Gwen. 

Arlen didn’t want to hide Nora away on the mountain.  He wanted to show off his pretty wife in town—to have a good time with her, to enjoy the cakes and pies and cold fried chicken, and to sit and laugh with her as they watched the potato sack races. 

He didn’t want to keep her from her friends, or take her books away from her.  He’d never done any of those things to Sylvie.  On the contrary, he’d done everything in his power to make her happy.  They went into town as often as she wanted, and he urged her to go visit with the neighbor women.  But they all had children, and it just made Sylvie more melancholic. 

And in the end, none of it had helped—she left him anyway.

That can’t happen with Nora, he thought.  I can’t let it.  I couldn’t survive it.  And if she took Gwen?  He felt sick at the thought
of the baby girl he’d grown to love just disappearing out of his life.

Or even worse…what if they caught an illness on the train, the way Sylvie had?  The trains could be cramped and crowded, and the conditions unsanitary.  He’d worried about Nora the whole time he’d waited for her to arrive last year.  As awful as it would be to know his wife and daughter were living a life apart from him, it would be worse to know they were dead.

He never forgave himself for letting Sylvie go.  It was
his
fault she was dead.  If he’d gone after her, and convinced her to come back, she never would have gotten sick.  It had been his job to protect her—just as it was his job now to protect his wife and daughter.

Arlen would do whatever it took to keep Nora and Gwen safe.