She Came One Winter (The Brides Of Courage, Kansas, Book 2)

By Lenny Davis

She Came One Winter - A Mail Order Bride Romance (The Brides of Courage, Kansas, Book 2)

To escape her dreary life in the Manhattan of December 1869, eighteen-year-old Genie O'Hara decides to become the mail order bride of Johnny Folsom, a young farmer in the new state they called Bleeding Kansas not long ago.
Intrigued by the fact that at the age of nineteen Johnny already owns his own grange, she travels out to Courage, Kansas, to be with him.
Little does she know what surprises are waiting for her.
Soon she finds out that her husband and life on the prairie are different from what she'd expected. On the wide plain near the Santa Fe Trail, the city girl from New York lives through adventures she would have never imagined possible.
Is her husband the man that she thinks he is? Or is he somebody radically different?
Will all turn out well? Will Genie find the love that she'd dreamed of in New York on the Kansas plain?
Come in and enjoy this clean Wild West mail order bride romance by Lenny Davis.

The Brides of Courage, Kansas, Series of Western Mail Order Bride Romances:
"Once Upon the Prairie," Book 1
"She Came One Winter," Book 2
"A Bride In Spring," Book 3
"Heart of Summer," Book 4

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharaya Lee
• Release date: Mar 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311128768

Book preview

Lenny Davis

She Came One Winter

The Brides of Courage, Kansas, Book Two

A

Wild West

Mail Order Bride Romance

Copyright 2014 by Lenny Davis

All rights reserved!

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This story is a work of historical fiction.

Any resemblance to actual locales, incidents or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The Brides of Courage, Kansas, Series:

Once Upon The Prairie, Book 1

She Came One Winter, Book 2

A Bride In Spring, Book 3

Heart Of Summer, Book 4

Molly In Fall, Book 5

***

March 1870:

Tell me, Johnny, how many hearts did you break?

If you'd come back now, I'd slam the door in your face. And if your stupid hat falls away because of that, then I'm not going to pick it up for you.

Despair clawed at her heart again. She felt as if bound with a very long chain to a ball that was rolling around on the prairie somewhere, far far away. She couldn't see it, but she felt its pull.

Genie wished she could wipe the uncertainty away and get a clear glimpse of the future. But try as she might, she couldn't.

***

Three months earlier:

Chapter 1

Genie, you are dawdling!

The chiding voice came from the front of the gloomy haberdashery store in Manhattan, New York. It belonged to Warszawa Rasputova, wife of the proprietor, Mr. Henry Rasputov, who wasn't there at the moment.

I'm coming!

Eighteen-year-old Genie O'Hara sighed. She stood behind the door in the cloakroom and shrugged into a woolen winter coat, which she already knew wasn't thick enough to stave off the bitter cold of the December night that would meet her in a moment. It had snowed last week and the world had turned to white. The trees were powdered now and the pond frozen. The winter wonderland, illuminated by gas-lit streetlamps, looked pretty and gave a Christmassy feel to all who sat in warm rooms and looked at it through solid window panes. That outlook changed, of course, once you had to stand outside for hours on end to hawk matchboxes to passersby on a busy street, which was exactly what Genie had to do tonight. Again.

She looked at her pale hands and groaned. There were no mittens. Mrs. Rasputov wouldn't give her any as she was convinced that Genie would sell more if she appeared poor and needy. In a few minutes her fingers would be blue. And in half an hour her feet in her worn brown shoes would tingle with numbness.

What is keeping you?

Mr. Rasputov was a warmhearted man, something that could not be said of his wife. And it was his wife that Genie had to deal with mostly, because Mr. Rasputov was absent so frequently. Always traveling on business.

I'm coming, Genie said with a pleading tone.

She quickly slung a mottled headscarf made of felt around her head and tied it into a knot under her chin. At least her head wouldn't freeze off. When your hands and feet were cold, it was important that at least your head was warm.

The matchboxes were already in her coat and made its pockets to bulge. She left the cloakroom and went to the front of the store, where Mrs. Rasputov waited by the door and impatiently tapped her foot. The middle-aged woman frowned her hard-lined face at Genie. She reached out and pulled the girl's golden curls out from under the headscarf until they framed her angelic face.

There, she said and put her knuckles to her hips. Now make a sad face.

Genie didn't have to work hard at that. She looked at her hostess with eyes like a whipped pup's. Truth be told, she felt like one, too.

Mrs. Rasputov's mouth split in a big grin that revealed rosy gums. All of her teeth were missing except for one lone eyetooth. The homely woman gave a cackling laugh.

Perfect.

The girl now looked like a poor, bedraggled urchin. In this outfit she was surely going to stir up the compassion that lots of people felt around Christmas. Mrs. Rasputov fully intended to cash in on the sentiment of the season.

There you go, she said. Now, be mindful that we all have to pull together. Do not rush home right away just because Jack Frost is nipping at your nose a bit. Lately business has not been as good as it could have been. We are counting every penny these days, and I don't want you to come home without bringing at least a dollar tonight as you have disappointed me lately.

Mrs. Rasputov scowled. Her thin mouth moved. She chewed on her gums and looked at Genie with hard gray eyes.

The cold will work for you, she said. A lot of people find their heart when they see you shiver. Then they open their purse to you. And they will love you if your hands are blue. Always remember, pain translates into gain, if you do it right.

Genie sighed.

No need to sigh at me, Mrs. Rasputov said. Save that for the rich men that will be looking at you. She pulled the store door open. The bell above it chimed. Out with you now, and apply yourself.

Yes ma'am. Genie pulled her head in and stepped through the door, which fell shut behind her. An icy wind blew on her face as she turned left and began to walk.

Soft light from the gas lamps atop their posts lit the busy street. The falling snow muffled the noises of the many children rushing by and that of the carriages, whose drivers wore heavy overcoats against the cold. Some wore woolen caps under their top hats, which gave them a funny aspect. But none of them laughed. They all looked grim like hardened criminals, as if they'd just shot the constable and were now calmly making their getaway.

Genie didn't feel like laughing, either, as she walked past frosted windows behind which families sat gathered around the supper table. She traipsed down the block until she arrived on a busy intersection. Her nose was already red and felt like an icicle when she got there. She snuffled. Her stomach growled and the hollow feeling in it reminded her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She also wouldn't eat unless she brought home at least a dollar tonight. Mrs. Rasputov had been clear about that. In her head she heard her voice that said, And when you stand below a streetlight, face away from it. Then the shadow from your jawbones accents your hollow cheeks in a nice way. People will love it.

Genie cast a longing glance across the street at the German family that was selling roasted chestnuts from behind their little stand. Just now the mom of the bunch stabbed the heap of chestnuts with a small shuffle and filled the load into a pointy paper bag, which she handed to a customer, a gentleman wearing a bowler hat. The gentleman took the bag, handed over some shiny coins, doffed his hat and marched on.

Genie licked her lips as her mouth began to water. Wouldn't it be wonderful to eat a couple of those chestnuts right now? She could smell them all the way to here. When she closed her eyes, she could feel them in her mouth, taste their nippy aroma on her tongue. The only problem was that they weren't really there.

And they'd never get there, if she didn't start selling some of her own merchandise.

With yet another sigh Genie reached into her coat pocket and retrieved two big blue matchboxes, which she held out and shook while shouting, Matches, fine quality matches! Matches anyone?

She kept talking loudly to the mob that flowed up and down the sidewalk around her. But nobody paid any attention to her tonight, even though she looked truly adorable. Tonight, everybody seemed to be in a hurry. And blind. They treated her as if she were air. Usually she sold a pack of matches every five to ten minutes and kept the pennies coming in. Sometimes young men lingered and tried to strike up a conversation with her after buying a pack of matches. Not today.

Only a dog came after half an hour and sniffed on her and didn't want to leave her alone.

Doggie, she said. You look thin enough, you poor thing. But I don't have anything to feed you. I don't even have anything to feed myself. Better, you go on now and sniff on somebody else.

The dog seemed to get the message, because it soon ambled away.

The frost from the cobblestones crept through the soles of her shoes and up into her legs. Soon, Genie was jumping from one foot onto the other to stave off the numbness that was overtaking her feet.

She'd probably freeze to death tonight.

She looked down. Her white hands had acquired a ghostly blue tinge, as if she were dead already. She blew on them with the steam that came from her mouth, but that helped only for a moment.

Oh, how she wished to stand over by the German folks, where they had a nice fire going. She heard it crackle. But Genie knew that she wasn't allowed to stand near it. Genie had a willowy figure and the German lady was plump. Thus, the German lady didn't want Genie around her husband, whom she accused of having a roving eye. She might have had something there. Truth be told, if the man would have run his stand by himself, Genie would not have wanted to stand next to him and his fire.

They always said that beauty was a blessing. Well, Genie knew better. Sometimes beauty was a curse. Like when you stood on a Manhattan street in December and were cold and hungry and there were chestnuts and a fire across the street.

But what could she do?

She wasn't welcome over there. Too pretty.

After an hour and no sale she got downright desperate. It was late now. The crowd had thinned out considerably. Even the German family across the street had closed down its roasted-chestnut stand for the night and had gone home. The fire was now doused for the night.

In another half hour the streets wouldn't be safe anymore.

Genie closed her eyes. Two glistening tears rolled down her cheeks, down her neck, and soaked into her scarf.

What am I going to do, she thought. I can't go home with empty hands. She'll send me right back out. I know her, she'll make me sleep on the street if I don't bring home at least thirty cents.

Please, God...

She reached into her scarf and pulled out a locket that she wore around her neck. It had once belonged to her mother, who had gone on to be with the Lord together with the rest of her family in 1865, that dreadful last year of the war between the states.

Genie's thoughts wandered back to her native Georgia. In her memory it was always warm there, the evening air pulsing with the sound of cicadas. Spanish moss on the trees. The light of fireflies that exploded on the grass at night.

Oh, to be back there again. How she wished to be a firefly right now, with some spark of her own.

Dreamily, she thought of the wind that ruffled the leaves in the high trees. She once was a little girl sitting on a swing, racing over the wide and muddy Chattahoochee River near Cumberland, Georgia, the sun in her face.

Her father had been a horse trader and she remembered sitting on tall mounts. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the solid strength of those horses under her.

She longed to ride again.

She remembered the fine laughter of her mother and how proud she was of her older brother, who had jet-black hair and lots of energy and who looked so fiercely at the world around him. Her childhood had been happy one.

But then tragedy struck. Her life fell apart when one day that dreaded General William Tecumseh Sherman and his bluecoats arrived in Cumberland with their torches. They burned down their nice family mansion just because her father wouldn't surrender his horses voluntarily. They raided the stable. Genie remembered running around, fleeing the flames, coughing from the billowing black smoke that suddenly was everywhere. Then the bluecoats moved on, riding off with pounding hooves.

The next thing she knew, Mr. Leary came, all sad-faced, and took her by the hand. The neighbor's three sons were waiting by the graves. They leaned on the shovels still in their hands and studied her. When their father said a short prayer, they took their hats off and stood in silence. Then they left, making room for Genie to mourn by herself.

She had no idea how long she sat there, by the graves of her mother and father and brother, or how long she lived by herself in the ruins of her house, unwilling to leave even when good Mr. Leary invited her to move in with him and his sons. They lived only three miles down the road and there was food and shelter for her.

But she didn't want to leave the graves of her family.

Then one day, a middle-aged man with a Yankee accent drove up in his buggy, Mr. Rasputov from Manhattan, New York, desiring a little water for his horses. The jolly little man was down in Georgia on business he said when they sat by the table under the old Magnolia tree and ate some of Mr. Leary's ham that he and his sons had brought by the evening before. Genie remembered that Mr. Rasputov's luggage seemed to be made of carpet. Very friendly, he had a way with words.

That day, she was in a peculiar mood. When he told her that the land of opportunity was the North and that the future lay in the East, and that she should come with him to work for him and his wife in the great city of New York in the great state of New York, she consented. She packed her meager belongings, sat down on the buckboard and drove off with him.

Mr. Rasputov was nice enough. He never raised his voice or gave her a harsh word. His wife, Warszawa, on the other hand was a completely different person. Not exactly of a stunning appearance, she immediately perceived Genie, who was young and had angelic looks, a dire threat to what marital bliss she had with Mr. Rasputov and began to torment her.

And she was good at it, too.

The oval locket in Genie's hand had grown warm by now. It was made of shiny brass. Her fingers traced the ornamental engravings on it.

Beside a picture of her mother, the locket also housed Genie's other treasure: an ancient gold coin with the picture of a Roman king on it. It was all the money she possessed in the world and Mrs. Rasputov knew nothing about it. Genie had no idea how much the coin was worth. Didn't matter. She didn't intend to sell it. At least not as long as she wasn't completely destitute.

But even if she would have wanted to buy something to eat with it right now: the shops were all closed. She was pretty much alone in the street. Clutching the locket, she closed her eyes again. Two more tears streaked down her cheeks.

Well, a male voice said. What do we have here? Why's the young lady weeping?

Genie opened her eyes. A round-faced gentleman in a black coat stood in front of her. His eyes showed genuine concern. She quickly slipped the locket back into her scarf and wiped her tears away with the heel of her hand.

I don't mean to impose myself on you, the gentleman said. But I couldn't help noticing that something's troubling you.

You're not intruding, sir. Genie reached into her coat pocket and took out a box of her wares. Do you care for some matches, sir? She sniffled briefly and added, You see, I haven't sold any yet today.

And you're hungry.

Genie's gaze fell to the ground.

Give me two boxes of your matches, the gentleman said. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a big black wallet. Here, he said. I give you fifty cents for both of them.

Genie's eyes grew wide. But that's way too much, sir, she said as she took the coins. This would buy food for at least three days.

Never mind. He made a serious face and looked her in the eyes. It's late, young lady. You should be rushing home to your family now.

Genie's head dropped again. I don't have a family, she whispered.

That's most unfortunate, the gentleman said. After a pause he added, What happened?

Usually she wouldn't have answered a question like that. But for some reason tonight was different. Genie felt, the man had an air of trustworthiness about him, as if he were a parson or a doctor