The Pages of Life (A Boxed Set of Four Mail Order Bride Romances)

By Beth Overton

Mail Order Bride: Accident Prone & Headed For Her Tall Cowboy - An overweight and accident-prone woman from Boston decides to make her way to Oklahoma, and to a tall cowboy with a checkered past. She doesn’t know that, and when she finds out, has almost decided to return to Boston when a few odd incidents drive any thought of returning home right out of her mind.

Mail Order Bride: Jennifer Plain And Tall, And Her Widower - A plain and tall young woman with a gentle soul travels back to Texas where her family ranch is, to be with her fiancé who she has corresponded with. He’s a widower with four children and barely makes ends meet, and when his relative cuts off the water to his ranch he suffers along with his cattle. He finally asks the woman to be his wife and she then takes the entire family out to see her old home, which her fiancé believes she will leave him for.

Mail Order Bride: Taking The Same Ride With Her Fiancé & A Trainload Of Odd Characters - A woman travels by train to meet her soon to be husband, not knowing that he’s at the opposite end of it traveling to pick her up. They have mixed up their dates and everything in between on this witty and satirical train journey, which is pure, biting, and uniquely quirky fun.

Mail Order Bride: His Mother’s Smothered Chicken - A woman comes from poverty and travels to a Kentucky plantation owner who still mourns the recent loss of his wife and mother. She sees that he’s become very thin from his grieving and one day, before she is to throw her first dinner party, she finds a treasure hidden in the kitchen which she believes will help him regain his interest in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Overton
• Release date: Feb 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311380258

Beth Overton

Beth Overton lives in Northern California with her husband and three cats. Besides writing romances, she loves to read everything she can get her hands on, as well as cooking up gourmet delights for her entire family.

Book preview

The Pages of Life

(A Boxed Set of Four Mail Order Bride Romances)

By

Beth Overton

Copyright 2016 Quietly Blessed & Loved Press

Mail Order Bride: Accident Prone & Headed For Her Tall Cowboy

Mail Order Bride: Jennifer Plain And Tall, And Her Widower

Mail Order Bride: Taking The Same Ride With Her Fiancé & A Trainload Of Odd Characters

Mail Order Bride: His Mother’s Smothered Chicken

Mail Order Bride: Accident Prone & Headed For Her Tall Cowboy

Synopsis: Mail Order Bride: Accident Prone & Headed For Her Tall Cowboy - An overweight and accident-prone woman from Boston decides to make her way to Oklahoma, and to a tall cowboy with a checkered past. She doesn’t know that, and when she finds out, has almost decided to return to Boston when a few odd incidents drive any thought of returning home right out of her mind.

Mattie Voss sat at her mother’s kitchen table, head in one hand, cheeks crimson with embarrassment. Her other hand was splayed palm down on the polished wood. The thumb on this hand was red and had begun to swell considerably. Ten minutes earlier, Mattie had closed the lid of a cedar trunk after removing a blanket from it, but had forgotten to remove her thumb as well.

The lid of the chest was of solid, lacquered cedar, engraved with delicate roses and had come down quite hard on Mattie’s poor thumb. It was itself now the exact shade of red those roses would have been had they not been mere representations of those thorny plants.

Her cheeks burned and would have matched this color if the paleness of her face didn’t stop it from only reaching a bright pink. It was not for the injury that they burned, but because the injury had been witnessed by Mr. Bergeron, who had called on her that late morning to take her on a picnic in the Boston Common.

This was an engagement her mother had planned for her, but Mattie did think Mr. Bergeron was handsome, even if he was almost fifteen years her senior. She had turned twenty-three the previous spring and it seemed she was the last of her friends left unmarried. Her friend Mary Layton had two children, even, a beautiful girl of two years and a pudgy infant son who was already the apple of his father’s eye. The thought of Mary Layton’s family threatened to push more blood into Mattie cheeks and she felt faint.

Perhaps I should…well, I mean, perhaps I should fetch a doctor, Mr. Bergeron said. He had gotten much nearer to the kitchen door, Mattie saw as she looked up from her palm.

No, she said, her voice a little too high. At this time of day Dr. Hanley would be out on his rounds, leaving only his young assistant, Perry Hyatt, at the office. Perry too had come calling upon Mattie, at Mrs. Voss’s bequest, and that engagement had met a similar end.

Only that time, it had been Perry with an embarrassing injury to both body and pride. Mattie could barely stand to meet the doctor’s assistant on the street. There was no way she could face him at home with a wounded thumb and another awkward suitor standing nearby.

Mother has nursed me back from every other injury I’ve caused myself, Mattie said, smiling what she hoped looked like a real smile. With her uninjured hand she indicated a thin, faded scar on her chin. I received this lovely mark after falling off a chair when I was ten. One of the legs broke…and I had been rocking it a little too enthusiastically.

She tried another smile and though she couldn’t see it, she knew it was failing.

Mr. Bergeron coughed into his hand. Where is your mother now? he asked.

Mattie stared at her thumb. It hurt, but only when her heart beat. Maybe if she could slow its pace, her thumb would hurt less. Where was her mother? She squinted, thinking aloud, She saw us on our way out, but we came back because I forgot the blanket, so she must have gone out visiting. Oh no. She’s with Mrs. Sylvester. Mattie groaned loudly.

Is your thumb getting worse?

Had Mr. Bergeron gotten closer to the kitchen door? Mattie wasn’t sure. She shook her head, sighed, and stood up. The floorboards creaked under her steps. She pulled a towel off a stool placed in the corner of the room, but startled herself when a pair of hooks and a ball of yarn clattered to the floor. The bottom edge of the towel unraveled before catching on a knot.

Oh no! Oh, mother is going to—oh, it doesn’t matter! Mattie said this last bit louder than she’d intended. She had been embarrassed before, but didn’t care anymore. She put her heel on the string connecting the unfinished towel to the ball of yarn, gave a pull until the connection snapped, then wound the material around her damaged thumb. She turned to Mr. Bergeron, her face set in a grim smile, and told him that she would be fine.

I’ll just find my mother at Mrs. Sylvester’s house, Mattie said, trying to sound sweet. She held her wounded hand up to her chest. We can go on that picnic some other time. But, she knew it was already too late, Mr. Bergeron’s face said as much. She started for the door, but her would-be suitor stopped her.

Your hat!

What about it? Mattie turned and saw her blue hat dangling limply from one of Mr. Bergeron’s fingers.

You’re not wearing it, he said.

Mattie used her free hand to hold her bandaged, smarting one to the top of her head. She smiled, turned once more, and left Mr. Bergeron standing alone in her mother’s kitchen.

Mattie carried herself as best she could down the busy streets of Boston. Carriages rattled past her, each one probably filled with a pair of lovers on their way to Boston Common for a picnic. She darted between pedestrians and horses, thankful she’d listened to her mother and opted for the day dress with a more slimming silhouette.

She had originally wanted to wear a flared skirt with burgundy pleats. Dear, the union has let go of its past turmoil, I think you can do the same with your outdated dresses, her mother had said. If she hadn’t listened, she might have been stuck between a passing carriage and a telegraph pole.

Mrs. Sylvester’s house wasn’t far away, but Mattie had broken into a sweat by the time she reached the tall, brick house. She climbed the steps and knocked. A servant answered, and though Mattie was taller than most women, the servant still towered over her. His beak of a nose and piercing eyes accused her of interrupting important business. He took a moment to speak, but finally said, in a low voice, Ms. Voss? You weren’t expected.

No. But mother’s here and I need to speak with her about, well, about something private, Mattie said. She knew what a mess she looked. Her face felt flushed, her skin prickled with sweat beneath the dense fabric of her dress, and her hair felt plastered to her forehead. She was surprised the servant recognized her.

He sighed a reply and stepped to one side to allow Mattie entrance into the big house. You have no hat, he said. It wasn’t a question. He was just stating facts.

It blew off in the wind, Mattie said. She caught the servant glancing outside at the still air, but he said nothing about the weather. Instead, he showed her into the tearoom, cleared his throat rather than announcing her, and removed himself from what was bound to be an awkward situation.

Her mother and Mrs. Sylvester both held porcelain cups, and froze upon seeing Mattie standing in the doorway, utterly disheveled. She felt their eyes descend from her uncovered head to her covered hand.

Carefully, Mattie’s mother set her cup down on its saucer, folded her hands in her lap, and said, What happened? She didn’t sound concerned, but rather exhausted. This was not the first time they had acted out this scene. Mattie’s mother, a widow of ten years, would have looked younger if the constant worry she felt for her only child did not bother her so constantly. The crow’s feet around her eyes had spread and deepened. She shared the same straw colored hair as her daughter, and today it was pulled up at the sides and knotted. A laced hat sat atop her head at an impossible angle.

Mattie gingerly unwrapped her thumb and held it up for inspection. Her mother inhaled sharply, but only for effect. This was far from the worst injury her daughter had caused herself. She refrained from asking what had happened in front of Mrs. Sylvester. The older woman sat back in her large chair and followed the scene before her with active eyes.

She was also very familiar with Mattie’s clumsy habits and failed courtships. Mattie knew that Mrs. Sylvester often counseled her mother about what to do with her. She was certain they had been talking about her before she entered.

Come here then, dear, her mother said, beckoning her forward. Mattie came forward and let her mother look at her injury. She prodded it. Does that hurt?

Yes!

Sorry, dear. I can’t tell if anything is broken. We’ll have to see Dr. Hanley this afternoon. Apparently she had no desire to face young Perry Hyatt either. She looked the thumb over once more, and then noticed the towel that had been wrapped around it. Mattie held it in her other hand. Her mother took it, frowning deeply, but again refrained from saying anything in front of Mrs. Sylvester.

It was that lady’s turn to speak up, however. How is Mr. Bergeron, Mattie? she asked.

Mattie closed her eyes a moment, grimacing, but managed a smile when she turned toward the old woman. He seemed quite well when I left him, Mrs. Sylvester.

Oh. Mrs. Sylvester raised her gray eyebrows and nodded. Well, you will have to say hello from me, if you see him again. The menfolk don’t visit as much as they used to, she said. Of course I suspect that they will continue to visit you. You’re lucky you inherited your mother’s looks. If you hadn’t, the well might have run dry by now.

Mattie’s mother flushed. She looked like her daughter when she did. The well is getting older, though, isn’t it dear?

Mattie shrugged. I don’t care, she lied.

Her mother snorted uncharacteristically. Sure you don’t, dear.

Can I say something? Mrs. Sylvester asked. Mattie didn’t know why she asked. They were in her house after all. As far she could recall, nothing had ever stopped her from saying anything. Mrs. Sylvester took a sip of her tea, making sure she had their attention, then said, "I have a niece, Harold’s middle child. Well, she had similar problems to those that afflict you, dear Mattie. She arrived at the age twenty-five, still single, and Harold had begun to consider sending this poor thing to a convent.

These are Protestants we’re talking about! Well, he couldn’t do that because he could see the girl was dying to get married and start a family. They put a listing in all the big papers, advertising all the girl’s best attributes. Unlike you, Mattie dear, my niece had inherited no one’s good looks. If you’ve seen my brother Harold you’ll understand why that would have been impossible. Anyway. Well, would you know she found a man willing to take her as a bride. She had to move to Wisconsin, but Harold says she’s happy, and now the mother of three children. What do you think of that?

Mattie glanced at her mother. The way she was looking at her suggested that perhaps she and Mrs. Sylvester had discussed this topic before. She cleared her throat. Are they in love?

They found love, said Mrs. Sylvester. Love is a thing you can create, dear. It doesn’t have to fall from the heavens like it does in those penny-novels the newsboys sell.

How would you know what’s in the penny-novels? Mattie’s mother teased.

Old Mrs. Sylvester grinned. Think about it, dear, she said to Mattie. And think about your poor mother. She’s worried about you.

But who are these men that answer the advertisements? Mattie asked.

They’re usually wealthy. They’re the sort of serious men that haven’t the time to court. But that doesn’t mean they’re insensitive, just busy. You see, out west there simply aren’t that many ladies, but there’s work, and there’s gold, and men go there to make their fortunes.

Mattie thought about it. She’d forgotten about her thumb for the moment. Her mother was smiling at her oddly and she felt inclined to nod and say, I see no harm in giving it a try. It could be fun. But her stomach turned with what felt like an entire swarm of butterflies.

Her mother smiled broadly, looking from her daughter to Mrs. Sylvester. Stay for a cup of tea, dear. We have some time before Dr. Hanley returns to his office. Mrs. Sylvester rang for the servant.

Mattie said a prayer. Her thumb was only sprained, and Dr. Hanley had promised it would heal in a few days’ time. It was the day following her meeting with Mrs. Sylvester, and Mattie brushed her long hair in front the mirror in her room. On her nightstand was a stack of papers her mother had brought from the local church. They were copies of letters from men living out west, looking for wives. She glanced down at the top sheaf of paper and read the brief message.

A BILL FOR A WIFE was the heading. I, Otto McCullum, of Custer, S. Dakota, formerly of Vinita, OK, seek a young woman for matrimony. I am 27 years old. I have made a living on a ranch in OK and have relocated to Custer after the discovery of gold mines in the hills west of that town. I own several acres of my own land and owe no rent. My house is spacious, I have no children, though am looking to start a family. I stand over six feet, and have brown hair. If you are interested, please send correspondence to the address below.

The others in the stack were similarly written, but it had been Otto’s height that attracted Mattie’s attention. Her own height was often a problem when it came to suitors. She felt awkward standing over a man and often stooped when speaking to the men that came courting. Her mother said she was going to become a hunchback if she didn’t correct her posture.

Setting the brush down, she picked up the paper and read it through again. Otto McCullum. Mattie McCullum, she thought, and liked the way it sounded. There was no harm in sending a letter, she decided. If nothing else it would be nice to correspond with a man. She opened the drawer of her desk, careful to use her uninjured hand. She retrieved a piece of stationery, a pen, and a bottle of black ink. She dipped the pen in the ink, brought it to the stationary, and remembered at the last moment to put a piece of blotting