The Mapmaker's Wife

By Kathy L Wheeler

!!! First Place ~ IDA Winner !!!

 

In the midst of his war-torn country, love posed the greater danger.

Creating maps for the Union is less than satisfying after a war-ending injury and learning his childhood friend was in love with his wife. But now both are dead and he is left with an angry child no one can control.

 

A flippant proposal and an attack on her person finds Elizabeth Ruthers married to a mapmaker whose only need of her is taking control of his ungovernable child but her feelings quickly shift into something less platonic. When the enemy gains vital secrets, her suspicions land her behind bars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chisel Imprint
• Release date: Apr 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507070000

Kathy L Wheeler

Kathy L Wheeler loves the NBA, the NFL, musical theater, travel, reading, writing and karaoke. Umm, friends, networking... she'll let you know she's forgotten anything. :)

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Books by

Books by

Kathy L Wheeler

Rebel Lords of London

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Enchanting the Earl

The Earl’s Error

The Marquis’ Misstep

The 7th Son

The Viscount’s Vendetta

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Lady Felicity’s Feud with Christmas (Regency Christmas Kisses anthology)

The Weatherford Sisters Mysteries

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A Bullet to the Heart – Kathy L Wheeler

Hanging by a Threat – Terry Andrews

Fatal Drip of Wisdom – Sanxie Bea Cooper

A Dagger Cuts Deep – Kathy L Wheeler

Mail Order Bride Series

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The Counterfeit

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The Breakaway (IDA finalist)

Bloomington Series

A person wearing glasses Description automatically generated with medium confidence Quotable (IDA finalist)

A picture containing text, person Description automatically generated Maybe It’s You

Graphical user interface, website Description automatically generated Lies That Bind

Martini Club 4 Series

A picture containing text, hairpiece Description automatically generated Reckless – The 1920s and Pampered — The 1940s

Other fun novellas

A picture containing diagram Description automatically generated Nose Job – Scrimshaw Doll Tale

A picture containing text Description automatically generated The Mapmaker’s Wife – Civil War Novella (IDA Winner Historical Short)

A picture containing text Description automatically generated Blood Stained Memories – A World of Gothic novella

Diagram, schematic, timeline Description automatically generated Trust in Love – Four Holiday Shorts

Cinderella Series

Text Description automatically generated The Wronged Princess – book i

Text Description automatically generated The Unlikely Heroine – book ii

A picture containing text Description automatically generated The Surprising Enchantress – book iii

A picture containing text, cake, person, sign Description automatically generated The English Lily – book iv (Scrimshaw Doll Tale)

A picture containing text, book Description automatically generated The Price of Scorn: Cinderella’s Evil Stepmother

The Betting Billionaires

Coming soon:

Fool’s Fortune

Fool Hearty

Fool’s Gold

Foolishness

The Mapmaker’s Wife

Kathy L Wheeler

copyright © 2021 by Kathy L Wheeler

All Rights Reserved

These stories are works of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Kathy L Wheeler.

Copyright © 2021 - Excerpts for Mail Order Bride: The Counterfeit

Cover: Kathy L Wheeler

Format: Kathy L Wheeler

Acknowledgments

I’m the best blessed ever! Thank you to my most supportive husband, daughter and mother and cousin, Jaynnie Seeburger. Critique partners Alicia Dean, Christy Gronlund and Betty Sanders. And, more best friends than a girl deserves in one lifetime.

The Mapmaker’s Wife

Kathy L Wheeler

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Chisel Imprint Puyallup, WA

Table of contents

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

Other books

about the author

copyright

acknowledgements

ONE

Fogland, Rhode Island – December, 1863

Such a young angelic face. Upturned nose, plump lips and violet eyes, all framed with dark lush lashes, to match unruly curls. That impish she-devil’s index finger of her left hand stroked the strip of a shiny blue ribbon that, granted, would look lovely in such dark locks, only after a well-needed run-in with a brush.

Elizabeth Ruthers retreated into the shadows, eyes narrowed on that beautiful child, no older than seven or eight years of age. Her large eyes darted about. The imp was fast—but not as fast as Elizabeth. She struck as quick as a rattlesnake, snagging the tiny wrist just as her hand disappeared into the front pocket of her wrinkled apron.

The little thief froze and the air went taut with tension.

"Well, Miss Gertrude. What have you to say for yourself, this time?" Elizabeth’s question, softly spoken, seemed to jolt something within her captive.

She lifted her head, meeting Elizabeth’s direct gaze. Tears, resembling large raindrops, pooled in her eyes.

Elizabeth steeled herself against that innocence. Such manufactured purity, should Elizabeth been able to find a way to bottle it, would have netted her enough funds to support the Union soldiers to the end of this bloody war. I’m waiting.

She blinked once, and a single tear rolled down her grimy cheek.

Well, then. If you cannot answer me, perhaps you shall be more inclined in answering your father.

Fogland, named for its proximity to the wild forest adjacent, was ordinarily a place of calm and respectability. But this child, Gertrude Williams, was known for her wild nature. Her temper tantrums were notorious. In a swift and agile turn, she twisted and tried to jerk her wrist free, but Elizabeth tightened her grip. Well and truly caught, Gertrude turned on Elizabeth, flailing and kicking, but Elizabeth was ready for such antics and pinned the girl’s arm behind her.

"He doesn’t care what I do. That little high pitched squeal was another weapon Elizabeth forced herself to ignore. Ow. You’re hurting me."

Ha! Elizabeth wasn’t hurting her. She’d learned her lesson once before, letting down her guard too soon. Gertrude was down the street like a bolt of lightning. We shall just see about that. Elizabeth marched her charge to the front of the store and out the door.

A biting wind straight off the Mt. Hope Bay chilled the late October air. Elizabeth glanced up and to the north. A line of swirling dark clouds was almost upon them while directly overhead a hazy sun still shined. Looked like winter would finally be making its appearance. Could be as soon as early evening. The coming storm would have the townspeople housebound by morning. She grimaced. Including her. Something to worry about later. Right now, she had a juvenile purloiner to deal with.

John Williams’ print shop was located directly across the street from Millicent’s General Store. Millicent, half-blind, half-deaf owner of the general store, had been otherwise occupied, allowing Elizabeth to deal with the evolving situation. Gertrude was lucky Miss Millie hadn’t been the one to catch her. A shudder skittered up Elizabeth’s spine. The batty old woman might have pulled out her shotgun, waylaying any questions. At least Elizabeth was prepared to let Mr. Williams deal with the problem.

She tugged Gertrude up a wooden step to the plank and pushed open the door. A small bell jangled, announcing their presence. Mr. Williams sat hunched over a large angled table near the back, partially blocked by a tall room divider, ignoring them. The force of her ire snapped. Mr. Williams?

The shoulder beneath her hand relaxed a mite. I told you he doesn’t care. Despite the cool nonchalance that spilled from Gertrude, Elizabeth was almost certain she detected a slight quiver from the child’s delicate frame. Whether it was fear, hurt or something altogether different, she couldn’t say.

A second later John Williams—all six feet, two inches of sheer male force appeared—depleting the room of what little air the tiny storefront supplied. Gertrude stiffened.

What is it?

Elizabeth had always heard his bark was worse than his bite, but suddenly trapped by eyes a shade darker than that of his daughter’s and a voice reverberating against wood countertops and walls, she wasn’t so sure.

That piercing gaze shifted quickly to her small charge. What the blazes are you doing out of school? His demand was not what one would consider gentle, as it seemed to rattle the glass in the windows too.

Gertrude’s spine straightened and her chin lifted. "There was no school today, Papa." Her small voice rang out strong and defiant.

Then what’s the purpose of this visit? I have work to do.

Gertrude’s last breath expelled from her small body, and it infuriated Elizabeth. But this was the third time she’d caught Gertrude pocketing items from Millicent’s, and if Elizabeth didn’t nip Gertrude’s actions now, no telling what trouble the child would land in next. Are you aware, sir, that your daughter has been stealing?

Stealing!

Both, Elizabeth and Gertrude flinched. But again, Elizabeth knew it was now or never. Show him, Gertrude. She squeezed the girl’s shoulder.

The atmosphere was fraught with tension, but after a slight hesitation, Gertrude held out her hand. The shiny blue ribbon entwined her fingers like a knotted rope.

He winced then furrowed his brows. Is that what this is about? Trudy took a scrap of…of...

Of ribbon. Yes. It’s called theft. Perhaps you’ve heard the term?

How much? I’ll just give you the money.

Gertrude shot Elizabeth a smug look over her shoulder.

She ignored it. And this will help your daughter in what capacity? Elizabeth demanded.

I’m doing important work here.

Elizabeth shook with fury. Your daughter is important work too.

Gertrude sniffed. It was suspicious at best. I’m sorry, Papa. It… it reminded me of Mama. She turned her face in Elizabeth’s direction and poked out her bottom lip. She’s been g-gone…so long. The tears dripped. She looked back at her father.

John Williams’ rough demeanor went instantly soft and he held out his arms. Elizabeth was so shocked at this farce display of dramatics, her hold loosened and Gertrude launched herself at her father. He braced himself against the doorframe—the only sign of the injury she’d heard he’d sustained in the war—but deftly caught the child.

Elizabeth pointed at her. She turns those tears on and off like a hydrant, she said incredulously. Are you going to let her manipulate you like that?

Cradled against his hard torso, Gertrude appeared as tiny as a porcelain doll. "And I suppose you, a spinster quite on the shelf, could do better?"

She flinched at the ruthless, yet accurate description but pulled herself up. "Indeed, I could. That child needs guidance, attention, discipline." His whole attitude disgusted her.

Two pairs of matching purple eyes narrowed on her, sending a flutter of nerves deep in her belly. His shrewd, Gertrude’s triumphant. Her arms slipped about her father’s neck, her cheek rested against his.

Then perhaps, Miss Ruthers, you would do me the great honor of marrying me.

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What! The simultaneous cries of outrage were almost amusing except for the small matter of his only child caught pilfering. All for a strip of blue ribbon. John realized better than most how awful a father he was. The small body in his arms was so fragile, his chest ached.

Trudy stiffened in his hold. No. No, Papa. I don’t want you to marry a spinster.

Elizabeth Ruthers wore her hair so tightly wound at her nape it tilted her eyes slightly. Eyes that resembled the moss in the creek that ran behind his and Trudy’s home. Her slender body stood rigid, prepared for flight. Lips compressed in that heart-shaped face at his absurd proposal.

Yet, was the idea of marriage to a well acknowledged spinster all that absurd?

Trudy did need a firm hand, someone home to create a sense of stability. To keep her from underfoot until the Union could finish off this blasted war. Bragg’s tactical win at Chickamauga, was a setback. Only a portion of the Federals