Moonlight Sonata: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By Doreen Milstead

Native Fear - A woman decides to go out west after becoming widowed, but when she arrives her fiancé is nothing at all like she imagined he would be. His appearance brings back horrid memories of a family tragedy, and she doubts that she can even speak to him, let alone get married PLUS The Overweight Bride From Back East - An overweight woman from back east, about to become penniless, decides to both answer an ad and place one herself to become a mail order bride PLUS Racing The Wind For Her Cowboy - Two men in one small town, a bad boy and a rancher, send away for a mail order bride; the only problem is -- one woman arrives on the train a few weeks later PLUS That’ll Cost You A Year’s Worth Of Laundry – A widow takes in laundry then delivers it to make ends meet. She strikes a bargain with a man in exchange for an entire year’s worth of clean clothes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387573653

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Moonlight Sonata: Four Historical Romance Novellas

Moonlight Sonata: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2018 Susan Hart

Native Fear

Synopsis: Native Fear - A woman decides to go out west after becoming widowed, but when she arrives her fiancé is nothing at all like she imagined he would be. His appearance brings back horrid memories of a family tragedy, and she doubts that she can even speak to him, let alone get married. 

Texas, 1870

There was no going back. Eliza Davis had known that the moment she slid onto her seat in the dust covered wagon, the six Quarter horses straining at their bits to be off, but even still she questioned her decision. Had she made the right choice?

Even as the question lingered in her mind she knew there hadn’t been another option. Joshua had made any other choice impossible.

The coach jostled her sideways and she used every muscle to keep from toppling into the older gentleman next to her. His head was tilted back in sleep, though Eliza had no idea how he could possibly relax in the midst of the bumps and jolts.

She loosened her white knuckled grip on the edge of the seat and readjusted herself, peering out the small window covered in grime from the journey. There was nothing to see for miles except for the few trees that rose up from the endless plains. Miles and miles of plains. Just like back home.

Eliza bit her lip, forcing the memories to stop, but they were soon replaced by anger that flushed her cheeks. Her Irish temper was never far, always at a slow boil beneath the surface. Joshua had said it would be her downfall, but in the end he’d taken care of that himself by dying and leavening nothing for her behind.

Nothing except for the burse that had finally faded from her cheek, and the hurt that still lingered in her heart.

Hot, angry tears flooded her eyes but she willed them away. She would not cry for him again, though guilt washed over her. God has seen fit to deliver her from his cruel hands; though this journey felt like anything but deliverance. Was it her fault he had died? Had God forgotten her?

No. Her mother’s words dropped into her mind like drops of fresh water on a hot day. God never forgets, He only delays to make the deliverance that much greater.

Eliza closed her eyes, clinging to that promise.

North Bank, Texas. One more hour.

The muffled voice from outside the coach caught Eliza by surprise and her heart hammered in response. They were close.

She clutched her gloved hands to her middle, breathing in slowly to calm her nerves. She didn’t know what to expect and didn’t even know whom to look for when she arrived. She could only hope that Mr. Henry Boyd would recognize her from her picture. It had been taken many years ago, just before she’d married Joshua, but it was the only image she had of herself.

The wagon jostled her again, this time throwing her against the wall of the coach. She groaned and rubbed her arm. No matter what awaited her at the stagecoach station, she would be happy to no longer feel every bone in her body being jarred and tossed about.

Before long, the coach slowed to a stop, dust swirling through the air. When the door opened, she was the first to exit, her delicate lace gloves lightly touching the rough hands of the stagecoach driver. Eliza tested her cramped legs and took a few steps forward, squinting against the brightness of the midday sun.

Are you Miss Eliza Davis come from Straw Valley?

Yes, Eliza shielded her eyes, observing the older man before her. He had weathered features and skin so dark it looked like tanned leather. The white tuffs of hair left on his head stuck out in a haphazard, comical way. Are you Mr. Boyd?

No ma’am. The gravely laugh caused Eliza to smile. Name’s Gurnis, Miss. I’m here to take you back to the ranch.

Her heart skipped a beat. I—I was under the impression Mr. Boyd would be meeting me…

He would have liked that Miss, but he’s real busy. Got a hundred head comin’ in real soon and there’s lots to be done.

Eliza faltered, heat fanning out over her cheeks. Did Mr. Boyd expect her to come to his ranch as an unmarried woman?

I’m not sure of the propriety of this situation.

Gurnis squinted, head tilting to the side, Pro-property of what exactly?

Aren’t we to be married? She was positive her face was now as red as her hair.

Golly, Miss. I’m sorry. I didn’t quite understand you. He’s got a guest portion of the ranch. You’ll be staying with his sister, Miss Rebecca Boyd. He thought you might like to take a few days rest before a ceremony.

She blinked, surprised at Henry Boyd’s thoughtfulness. Joshua wouldn’t have given her a second thought had she crossed the entirety of the state of Texas or just come from church; he would have demanded something of her immediately.

Will that be all right, Miss? Gurnis peered up at her, his grin revealing several missing teeth.

Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, um-Gurnis.

S’right. Or you can call me Gurney. Everyone else seems to. Right this way.

Eliza watched as her trunk slammed onto the worn boards of the wagon hitched to two horses and a groan escaped her lips. Another wagon ride.

The only thought that would quell her rebellion against sitting through another jostling ride was the fact that Mr. Boyd, her future husband, seemed to have thought of everything.

God never forgets.

Henry pulled on the reigns of his Palomino, turning back toward home.

Home. That word had meant many things to him before coming to live on the ranch with his father Thomas and sister Rebecca. His mother had long since pasted away, but the memory of her still lingered.

The sun sent long rays in front of Henry, guiding the way to the barn, though his horse was more than ready to be bedded for the night. He had pushed him hard and he deserved the extra measure of hay he’d get that evening.

Leaving him in the care of one of the ranch hands, Henry strode across the yard toward the house, halting at the sound of laughter coming from an open window. He could hear the animation in his sister’s voice, but the response was quieter, though decidedly feminine.

Eliza.

Henry sucked in a breath. He’d completely forgotten she was coming in today. Gurney’s earlier comment about an exciting day now fit like the last piece of a puzzle. How could Henry be so daft? His bride had arrived and here he was, riding in after a long, hot day in the sun smelling worse than his horse.

Correcting his destination, he slipped into the kitchen, careful not to close the door to loudly.

Cook. The elderly, widowed woman stood with her back to Henry, pulling a large cast iron pot from over the stove. He tried again, Cook!

Who--? She whirled around, a large wooden spoon held out like a weapon.

Henry grinned, arms held up. It’s just me.

She sunk against the table in the middle of the room, one hand clutching at her chest. Mr. Henry, you about gave me a conniption fit!

He apologized and looked to the hallway leading to the rest of the house. I need you to stall supper by fifteen minutes. Can you do that?

Regaining her composer, she stood up straight eyeing him. I’d say you’ll need more than that to clean up for that lovely lady you’ve got sitting in there. Her grin broke through at the end of her reprimand.

Henry felt his stomach twist in on itself, though he was sure it was due to the hunger pangs he felt from a hard days work.

I’ll do the best I can.

I’ll keep them waiting for you, Mr. Henry. Now go get yourself cleaned up.

He grinned and backed outside, making his way to the pool they’d created by damming up part of the creek that flowed not far from the house. After a through scrubbing and quick shave, he felt ready to meet his…wife.

Future wife, at least.

The concept was strange to him, but he had soon come to realize that a mail order bride would be his best hope for a match. He’d taken out advertisements in several papers, but the only woman who had caught his eye was Eliza Davis.

She was recently widowed, but there was tenderness in her letters that drew him. She spoke of the prairie where she lived as if the fields were spun from golden sunlight, not dried up stalks of weeds. Despite her dire circumstances, much of which he could only infer, her words spoke of hope and gentleness, excitement and courage. Her picture had been a pleasant surprise, her beauty more than he could have hoped for, but he had fallen in love with her words long before that had arrived.

His sister’s laugh echoed through the open windows, the late spring air sparkling with it as he approached the house once more. This time, he entered through the front door.

And that’s when I told him that, if he were going to climb trees, he should at least make sure their branches were sturdy.

A light, delicate laugh joined Rebecca’s and Henry smiled.

Telling stories about me, are you Rebecca? Henry walked through the entry way into the formal sitting room and his heart threatened to stop beating.

Sitting on the settee with Rebecca sat the most beautiful woman Henry had ever seen. Her fiery red hair was piled on top of her head, gentle ringlets trickling down past the neck of her deep green gown. Her eyes, a vibrant green color, met his and widened in surprise.

I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m sure you both must be starving. Henry gave a little bow.

Henry! You’re finally here. I’m delight to have met Eliza. Isn’t she more lovely than her picture?

Heat filled Henry’s cheeks but he couldn’t deny the truth of his sister’s statement. Very.

It was Eliza’s turn to blush, and he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the hue looked on her, complimenting her light-toned skin.

When she looked up, he noticed her eyes dance from him to his sister, her brow creasing. I—I’m afraid I’m confused.

Henry felt the air leave his lungs. She didn't know.

You didn’t receive my photograph?

Biting her lip, she shook her head, the little ringlets bouncing back and forth. I’m—I’m sorry but I must—I need to rest. Please, enjoy dinner without me.

Shocked, Henry and Rebecca watched as Eliza rushed from the room, her face now the color of her hair.

Henry? Rebecca’s voice was tentative, questioning. Didn’t she know?

Anger flared in his veins. Apparently not. His letter must have been delayed or lost.

It shouldn’t matter. Rebecca’s voice was gentle.

But obviously it does. Henry gave a self-deprecating laugh. No woman wants to marry someone who is part Native American.

Stop it! Don’t say that.

It’s the truth, Rebecca. My mother was Comanche and I’m not ashamed of that. I just thought… He paused, rubbing a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw. I just thought that Eliza would understand.

Rebecca met his gaze. You don’t know what she won’t. Just give her time.

Time. That and cattle ranching was all he had. That’s the reason he had finally decided to settle down. He wanted his father’s house filled with the laughter of children; wanted to come home to see his wife working on patchwork quilts in the sitting room. Wanted to love and be loved.

He had been sure Eliza, with her sweet and hopeful words, was the woman who would provide that for him. But clearly he’d been wrong.

The tears wouldn’t stop. As fast as Eliza could brush them away, more filled the empty spaces. Henry was Native American and he hadn’t told her.

Pressing her eyes closed against the flood, vivid images from her childhood painted dramatic and violent scenes before her. She had been twelve when they had attacked. The whooping and hollering still haunted her nightmares along with her mother crying out for them to leave; to go away and never come back.

Her father and mother had died that day and ever since, Eliza had lived in fear.

She curled into a ball on the bed, clenching her hands together.

Henry is different.

She wanted to argue with herself, but she knew it was true. He hadn’t mentioned his background, but he had responded to her letters in well-written script. He had taken the time to read her concerns and answer them. He had thought of everything for her.

A part of her heart shifted, melting at the realization that she couldn’t judge him based on the naturally tan color of his skin or his thick, black hair. She had gotten to know his heart through his words.

His strong jaw and confident stance conjured in her memory. He’d entered the room and her breath had caught, not because of his ethnicity, but because of his gentle eyes and handsome features. He stood taller than Joshua had, and his grin had been easy, showing off white teeth and a dimple on one side.

But he hadn’t told her. He’d purposely deceived her, waiting until she had traveled all this way and was now trapped at the ranch. She felt sick. How could she