Gabrielle: Bride of Vermont (American Mail-Order Bride 14) Read online

  GABRIELLE:

  BRIDE OF VERMONT

  American Mail-Order Brides Series, Book 14

  by

  EMILY CLAIRE

  Copyright © 2015 Emily Claire

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of imagination or used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2015 Emily Claire

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, photocopy, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.

  EMILYCLAIREAUTHOR.COM

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill ([email protected])

  ISBN-13: 978-1519391988

  ISBN-10: 1519391986

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Gabrielle, Bride of Vermont is fourteenth in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides Series. The books can be read in any order as each is a stand-alone offering. Read the FREE prequel: http://www.newwesternromance.com/

  CHAPTER ONE

  October 1890

  Blackwood, Vermont

  Gabrielle Petersen hurried down the street. She wasn’t sure she’d been on this particular one before, but it was familiar. Dirty city streets in poor sections of towns all looked the same to her. She shivered under her coat, even though it should have been warm enough. She was chilled to the bone during her walk from the train station in the bitter cold. Years had passed since she’d been in this city, yet nothing had changed. Just like before, she already wished to be leaving it. The only good thing about now was that she’d walk into her mother’s home within a few short minutes and all would be well, even for just a little while. She couldn’t wait to hug her mother again.

  Her cheeks burned with shame. She hadn’t been home in years— too many to count. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother; she did, and with all her heart. It was her step-father whom she’d avoided. She’d had to get away from him as soon as she was able, and that had been shortly after she’d finished school. Gabrielle shook her head to clear the memory of him. Mother’s letter said he was gone from their lives now anyway.

  Gabrielle checked the address on the envelope she pulled from her pocket. She was close and stepped up her pace. The tenements that lined the street were pathetically shabby, and her heart sank within her. Oh, Momma! Why didn’t you come to live with me?

  Immediately thankful that her mother hadn’t come, she thought it ironic that if she had, they’d both be homeless right now. At least her mother had a place to live, with room for her, too.

  Things had changed suddenly for Gabrielle in less than a month’s time. She’d been completely content with her life. She loved her roommates and liked her job at the Brown Textile Mill in Lawrence, Massachusetts. But everything had fallen apart. The mill had burned to the ground, and her livelihood evaporated overnight.

  Some of the women she’d worked with had husbands to support them and had more time to seek other employment. At least they had some security and wouldn’t be out on the streets. But she was on her own. Thank goodness I can turn to mother for help. The relief she felt at the thought brought some consolation.

  Gabrielle remembered when her roommate, Roberta McDaniel, invited all of the single women and widows to a meeting with an outlandish idea. It was only a week after the mill shut down. A fairly large group had gathered. Gabrielle hadn’t realized so many of her coworkers were in the same situation as she was… no job and little money to live on before having nothing left but the inability support themselves at all.

  Roberta told them that her own sister had recently become a mail-order bride and that she’d planned to do the same. Her sister gave her the contact information for a reputable woman in Beckham who operated a business helping women find husbands. Apparently, there was a paper, the Groom’s Gazette, which posted ads for men who wanted wives. Gabrielle still thought it was preposterous to find a husband that way. No way. Not me. Ever.

  Many women had questions. Even though Gabrielle had thought the idea ridiculous, out of curiosity she’d asked how long it would take to set up such a marriage. About a month! How could a woman decide, and be ready for marriage, in a month? Besides that, who’d agree to marry a stranger and travel to another state, or even across the United States to do it? That would give the potential bride a little more time, but not much, depending on how far she had to go to meet up with the man who’d sent for her. What if you agreed and then found your life unbearable? What if the man was brutal? You’d be bound to your commitment. A vow was a vow, and you’d have to sleep in the bed you’d chosen to lie in. She’d have to be desperate to consider such an arrangement. It wasn’t an option, as far as she was concerned.

  Gabrielle had been ill the day the mill had burned. Not one to miss work over a little illness, she was working when it happened but left right away and went home to bed. She was feverish for three days, but her roommates had taken turns meeting her needs while also doggedly searching for work. Were it not for her dear friends, Roberta, Sarah, and Poppy, she’d probably still be sick.

  By the time she was able to begin her own search, they’d already told her there weren’t any available jobs. Even so, Gabrielle put in a determined effort. She’d checked everywhere she could think of, but the only open positions had already been swept up by a few lucky girls. It began to look hopeless, and she would soon be living on her meager savings. Roberta and Sarah were making plans to marry, but Poppy still wasn’t sure. Gabrielle wasn’t having any of that business.

  She’d written her mother while she was still bedridden and received word that George had left months ago. Her dear little mother, Ruby, would gladly welcome her back with open arms, indefinitely.

  At the time, she’d hoped to stay in Lawrence, but it didn’t take long before she packed her things and headed “home” to Blackwood. Home would be wherever her mother lived at the time.

  Checking the address again, she sought out the numbers mounted on the wall of the shabby building she’d come to. She shuddered, realizing it was definitely the one. Hoping it looked much better on the inside, she made her way up the steps.

  She went inside and cringed at the darkened hallway. The walls of the tenement were filthy, and there was trash scattered about. She noticed a couple of men staring at her as she hurriedly made her way to the stairwell.

  She plodded up to the third floor, winded from hauling her heavy suitcases. Setting them down, she stopped to catch her breath, straighten her clothing, and pat her dark, windblown hair into place. She’d knocked twice before she heard a feeble “come in” from her mother. Trying the door and finding it open, Gabrielle shook her head. I’ll have to talk with her about keeping her door locked! It isn’t safe.

  The small apartment was just one room. A tiny window let in a little light through its tattered curtain. The pungent odor of urine assaulted her senses immediately. Her mother sat huddled on one side of a ragged and threadbare couch, with two quilts covering everything but her head.

  Gabrielle hurriedly set her suitcases inside the room, closed and locked the door, and rushed to her mother, tossing her coat aside as she kneele
d on the floor at her feet. “Momma!”

  Ruby stayed seated but smiled weakly. “Gabrielle, honey. I’m so glad you’re home—.” Deep and terrible, wracking coughs forced her to stop speaking.

  “Oh, Momma. You’re not well.” Gabrielle hugged her tenderly when the coughing stopped, shocked at how thin she felt. She pulled away and peeled off her gloves. She gasped when she laid her palm on her mother’s forehead. “And you’re burning with fever.”

  Her mother stared at her, confused. “Am I? But I feel so cold. Never mind that. You’re home. I’ve missed you so.” Feebly, she raised her hand and stroked her daughter’s dark brown hair.

  As Gabrielle looked into Ruby’s blue eyes, she forced back tears. They weren’t as blue as they’d once been. They had faded to a lighter shade and looked cloudy. The whites of her eyes looked yellow. Her mother’s skin was dry, and dark circles accented the sunken eyes.

  She stood up. “You need some hot tea, Mother. When was the last time you’ve eaten something?” She stood up and took a couple of steps, noticing an overflowing chamber pot. No wonder it smells so bad in here.

  She looked around the room. “Momma, where is your table and other furniture? I only see a few dishes. Where is everything?”

  Ruby sat, thinking. “George—.” Again, the dreadful cough.

  “Don’t try to talk. Let me make you some tea first.” She found what she needed and started to heat some water. Glancing around at the few items her mother had left, she fought the urge to cry. What’s happened here?

  Gabrielle carried the cup to her mother, who seemed to look worse by the minute. She’d dozed off, and Gabrielle wondered what was more important, rest or something warm to drink? She decided and gingerly sat down. “Momma? Drink some of this. You’ll feel better.”

  Ruby’s eyes fluttered open and she focused on her only child. “My Gabrielle, I’m so glad you came. I love you, but I have to go now, dear.” Ruby lifted her trembling hand and placed it on her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry there’s not much left here for you. George took my things,” she rasped, and took a weak and ragged breath.

  Gabrielle heard the rattle in her mother’s congested chest and felt panicked.

  “You’re not going anywhere. I am. I’m going to find you a doctor right now. Take this, please, and drink it. I’ll hurry, Momma. I love you.” Worried, Gabrielle scooped up her coat as she leaned down and kissed Ruby’s cheek. She never imagined that would be the last time she’d say goodbye to her precious little mother.

  *******

  Dear Poppy,

  I miss you so! How are you? Have you found work? I wanted to get word to you right away. I know I said you could come here and live with us, but everything has changed!

  When I arrived, Momma was terribly ill. It was as though she’d just been waiting for me to get here. Oh, I can hardly bear to write it even now. Poppy, my dear mother passed on a few hours after I arrived. My heart is broken!

  Remember that I told you about my step-father, George? The snake took everything and left Momma when she got sick! I’ve spent nearly everything I had left to make the necessary arrangements.

  I cannot stay here much longer as I’m nearly desperate now. There’s no work and nothing left for me to do here in Vermont. I know I said I’d never become a mail-order bride, but what else can I do? I sent a letter to Elizabeth Miller and told her I’d go anywhere if she could find a man who’d allow me to work by his side and yet stay out of his bed. If she can find a man who’ll keep his hands off me, I’ll leave right away.

  Miss Miller will have my address. Please write and let me know all is well and where you end up. We must stay in contact.

  Your friend,

  Gabby

  CHAPTER TWO

  Coltonville, Texas

  Boone Dillingham walked along the riverside, whistling a hymn. He picked up an unusual rock and stuck it in his pocket. He didn’t have one anything like it in his collection. Reaching his favorite fishing spot, he settled in.

  The slow awakening of dawn made him smile. It was his favorite time of day. This particular morning was cloudy, and rain threatened to intrude. He hoped it would come. Boone was never one to run from a storm. He preferred to be under the shelter of an awning when one blew in, but should he get caught and soaked, so be it. He’d still appreciate it.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice. “Thought you’d get the lead on me this morning, did ya?” Clyde Williamson crossed the ten-foot distance between them quickly.

  “Well, hey there, Preacher. You did say to meet you at sunrise. Sun isn’t up yet, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t. But you’ve already started. I guess I’d better hurry if I want to catch up with the likes of you.” Clyde got his fishing pole ready.

  “Well, that’s usually true, of course.” Boone laughed. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I hadn’t caught any yet?”

  Clyde grumbled sportively, just loud enough for Boone to hear him. “Absolutely not! Doesn’t make a bit of difference, since you’ve out-fished me every time we’ve come out here for the last year. Your luck is changing. I feel it!”

  “I think I’m ready for some kind of change, but I’m not sure luck would have anything to do with it,” Boone said.

  Clyde made himself comfortable. “Change? What kind?”

  “Oh, nothing really. I think I’m just growing a bit old or something. Maybe just restless.”

  Clyde laughed at his friend. “In the— what is it now? Eight years? In that many years I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be restless. And old?” Clyde scoffed. “I’d hardly call you old. What are you, thirty years old? You’re still pretty young, from where I’m looking.”

  Boone stared at the river and was quiet for a moment.

  Clyde waited. The two had become good friends after Boone had moved into the community near Coltonville, Texas. He’d helped the young man settle in and start his life over. Clyde had noticed over the years that it was hard to get Boone talking about whatever he was dealing with, but the young man usually got around to it eventually.

  “Yeah, I guess I’m not that old. I’m thirty-six now. I reckon it just feels like I’ve done a lot of living for a man my age. Been ridin’ the same horse on the same range and I’m kind of tired of it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Clyde kept his eyes on the water. “Planning to do something about it?”

  Boone looked over at Clyde. “Do about what?”

  “Your lonesomeness. That’s what this boils down to, isn’t it?” asked the older man.

  Boone was thoughtful before speaking. “Yes, Preacher. I think that’s about what I’d call it. Lonesomeness.”

  “Well—?” Clyde drew out the word.

  Boone laid down his pole. He stood up and fidgeted with his coat. Next, he walked over to the edge of the river and looked for skipping stones. After he found a couple, he started tossing them.

  “You’re going to think I’ve wandered a little too far off the range when I tell you what I’ve been considering,” Boone stalled.

  “Have you forgotten that I’m a preacher? I’ve heard some pretty far-fetched ideas in my time. Let’s hear it.”

  “I think I want—, that is, I believe I need— a, um—.” Boone cleared his throat and stalled.

  Clyde encouraged him, gently. “Yes, what do you need?”

  “I’ve been thinking I need a wife.” He hurried on. “I mean, I want a companion. I don’t want a wife in the way most men want one.” He paused. “Boy, that doesn’t sound right. Oh, never mind. It’s no use.”

  “What’s no use? You know, getting you to talk is like trying to fish in the heat of the day. It takes forever to get one to open its mouth so things can start happening! I’d like to hear what you have to say, so give it another go, Boone.”

  Boone hesitated, slightly embarrassed to try again. “All right then. Do you reckon there’s a woman out there who’d be willing to marry me and walk alongside me and not get, you know,
not be expecting to, uh, to be romanced?”

  Clyde took his hat off and laid it on his lap. He moved his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. After smoothing it back down and replacing his hat, he looked up at Boone, who had stopped his rock throwing and stood glancing, first at the preacher, and then to his feet, looking rather uncomfortable.

  “You’re saying you want someone to share your work and your home, but not your bed? Is that what you mean?” Clyde asked.

  “Well, it sounds a little odd when you say it just like that. It didn’t sound so harsh when I was thinking about,” Boone said. “And, I’ve actually been considering this for some time now. I just couldn’t talk myself into bringing it up. You see, now that my boy is sort of out on his own, I realize I don’t like being alone so much of the time. I’ve got a good home, and my saddle business keeps me occupied, but I’d like to have someone alongside me. I wouldn’t dream of asking someone to share my bed. Honestly, I still think of Amanda. I still miss her, actually. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m wanting the friendship and partnership of a woman, but I don’t want the relations. My mind needs a wife, not my heart. That’s pretty much what it boils down to.”

  “Did you have a particular woman in mind?” Clyde asked.

  “Lands, no! You know the women around these parts are scarce. I don’t know anyone.” He paused. “Is it crazy? Do you think I could maybe contact one of those mail-order bride places that I see in the paper?” Boone looked expectantly at his friend.

  “Let me ask you something before we go any further. Have you prayed about it? Asked God for guidance?”

  Boone nodded. “I did. And I felt compelled to come and talk to you.” After a few seconds, he chuckled. “So I reckon the good Lord wants you to help me out here, don’t you?”