When Winter Is But a Distant Memory: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By Doreen Milstead

Looking For A Good Life - A stubborn and pregnant English widow makes the long journey to California in the hopes of safe haven for she and her child, and intent on not marrying her mail order fiancé because he is merely a means to an end PLUS Looking After Teresa - A high society woman escapes an abusive husband when he divorces her. She has a hard time surviving in London until she runs across a poster for a mail order bride and signs up, not knowing about any of the skills she’s sure she’ll need to survive on a remote ranch in California PLUS Looking For The Golden Cross - A young woman out riding her horse by the river finds a man who is injured. He is able to ride to her farm, where her father is reluctant to let him stay and heal from his wounds PLUS Maggie Heads For the New World - A woman travels from London to New York City to get a business education so she can help with her father’s business, then has to take a sabbatical, so she heads west via train for a bit of R&R.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387381401

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When Winter Is But a Distant Memory: Four Historical Romance Novellas

When Winter Is But a Distant Memory: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2017 Susan Hart

Partial cover photo copyright: leonidtit / 123RF Stock Photo

Looking For A Good Life

Synopsis: Looking For A Good Life - A stubborn and pregnant English widow makes the long journey to California in the hopes of safe haven for she and her child, and intent on not marrying her mail order fiancé because he is merely a means to an end. Her companions are a young married couple – the man is one that her husband saved before he fell into the ocean and drowned, so she has a hatred for him at first. When they all arrive they are met by a far different man that the woman had come to know through a couple of letters, and she is quick to try and figure out, if she can, what on earth is happening.

Jeanne Harrow had been feeling ill for weeks, she couldn't figure out why, and the worst part of it was that her husband was nowhere to be seen. He worked for a shipping company and was usually gone for long periods of time, but he had simply gone over to France to try to set up a new partnership with a company based there. He should have been back by now and perhaps even off on another task. This concerned Jeanne and as she lay on her bed to wait for her stomach to settle, she heard a knock on the door.

She groaned, stood up, waited for her head to stop spinning and went to answer the door. A young man was standing there, hat in his hands and a frown on his face. She recognized him from the shipping company's warehouse and she recognized the face as one that was ready to deliver some bad news.

Oh no, said Jeanne. What's wrong?

Your husband didn't make it home, said the young man. Mister Harrow went down on a ship that was crossing the Channel. I'm sorry.

He could swim, said Jeanne, angrily. What do you mean he went down? He could swim!

He couldn't swim enough I guess, said the young man. He might have gotten dragged down.

Jeanne felt that she should be sad, but all she felt angry. Did anyone even try to save him?

Yes, and Mister Harrow saved me, said the young man.

So it's your fault that my husband is dead, said Jeanne, and she slammed the door in his face. He tried to say something, but Jeanne couldn't hear him through the door and her heavy sobbing. She slid down to the floor, her head swimming with sadness and nausea, and she spent the rest of the night there.

The next few weeks were especially hard on her, with the sickness coming and going without warning and people coming from her husband's company to try to make some sort of amends. After some time insisting that they simply bring her husband back, she acceded to their request to at least give him a proper memorial service. She went to the ceremony, her eyes dry and as she looked around at all the people who had come to see her husband off she felt a deep loathing for each one of them.

It wasn't their fault she knew, but each one was a reminder of what she had once had and was now lost to her. She needed to leave the country and she needed to do it quickly. The only problem was that she had no place to go and no desire to deal with the rest of Europe. That only really left the Americas and she didn't have nearly enough money to get over there. She could only see one solution, and so she walked up to her husband's old boss and slapped him.

You killed my husband, she said. You're the one who sent him to France!

Missus Harrow, we couldn't have known that your husband was going to die, said the boss. If there's anything we can do to help you through this time, please let us know.

I want to go to America, said Jeanne. I want to forget all of this.

I emphasize with your situation but I can't just send you over there without a plan, said the boss. That'd be akin to homicide, leaving you there without any idea of what you're doing.

Fine, said Jeanne. I'll figure out what I'm going to do and then I'll do it. You'd better be ready with a fast boat for me.

We will be, said the boss.

Good, she said, and then she stormed off. She had said all she needed to say and she also needed to vomit.

Half a world away, Joseph Clauson sat on his fence and watched the animals milling about below. There were cows and sheep, which was a controversial decision but one that had proven quite lucrative. He knew this ranch would be his only legacy, as an accident years before had left him unable to father a child, but he still ached for something more. He had looked into adoption, but having a child without a woman seemed wrong to him.

He had no options left and he got down off the fence and walked back to his modest home. He had built it with enough rooms for a family, but the family would never exist. He sat down at a table and his head ranch-hand, a man named Jack, walked in with the week's mail.

The usual, boss, said Jack, and he left.

Joseph shivered, since Jack had always struck him as oddly dangerous, but he put those feelings aside and looked through the mail. Despite Jack's claims, there was one thing that was new. It was some sort of broadsheet, filled with names, addresses, and descriptions of people who wanted to get married. He was about to throw it away when a listing caught his eye.

An old man was seeking a younger woman to marry and subsequently, leave his fortune so that his brother wouldn't be able to get it. If a man could do that in one of these, Joseph reasoned, perhaps he could find a woman who needed a husband and father for whatever reason. He found a pen and paper and started writing, describing himself and his desires as truthfully as possible.

The next morning, he sent it off with Jack and he hoped the man would get the mail to where it needed to be. Once that task was done, he dressed for the day and went back to watch his cattle and sheep and hoped for the best.

Jeanne had gone over a hundred plans in the days since her husband's memorial but she still couldn't figure out how she could convince her husband's old boss, whose name was Thackery, to pay for a trip to America. She couldn't decide if he was being stingy or overly careful, but all of it could be undone if she could only figure out a reason to go to America.

The difficulty was compounded by the fact that Jeanne was still feeling overly sick and there seemed to be nothing to do about it. She had tried any number of medications and treatments and was beginning to think that she may be cursed. The only thing she hadn't really tried was going to a doctor, out of fear for what the doctor may find, but then she realized that she might be able to convince a doctor to tell Thackery that Jeanne needed to go to America for her health. She was now in the waiting room of Doctor James Donner and she walked back to his office when called. She sat down on the examination table and kept her hands folded primly in her lap.

Hello, Missus Harrow, said Doctor Donner. I was sorry to hear about your husband. He was a good man and he helped me out more than once.

Perhaps you could help me, said Jeanne. I want to leave London and go to America and Mister Thackery has said he'll help me, but only if I had a plan. I was thinking perhaps, that you could write a prescription for me.

That would be unethical, said Doctor Donner. Now, I'm sure you have more of a reason to be here than simple attempted skullduggery.

I do, said Jeanne, her ire raised. I've been sick for well over a month. I think it's the damp London air.

If it is, then we'll see about getting you moved, said Doctor Donner. What are your symptoms?

I feel very nauseous almost all of the time, said Jeanne. I've also been very tired and I've just wanted the oddest meals.

All right, said Doctor Donner. Any tenderness?

Now that you mention it, there is some tenderness, said Jeanne, blushing. You know, when I say it all, it almost sounds as if... oh no.

Yes, Missus Harrow, said Doctor Donner writing it all down. Tell me, have you noticed the lack of any events?

Oh no, said Jeanne. Are you saying that I might be with child?

I am, said Doctor Donner. Congratulations. Or not, as the case may be.

I can use this, said Jeanne. I can use this somehow. Thank you, Doctor Donner. I'll square my account with you before I head to America.

No rush, said Doctor Donner. In fact, just forget about it. Like I said, your husband helped me quite a lot.

One last thing. Can I get it in writing?

Doctor Donner wrote his diagnosis of Jeanne and handed it to her and as she left the doctor's office with a newfound goal, and as she walked by a newsstand, something caught her eye. It was a broadsheet with a list of names on it, along with their locations and some light description. Jeanne purchased it and took it home to look it over, and discovered that it was designed to help men in the American west find wives.

She had heard of such things before, but had never seen one, but now she had a perfect way to get Thackery to pay for her trip. She poured over the broadsheet that night and found a man she deemed ideal and the best part was that he was on the western coast of America, in California.

She had no intention of actually marrying or even meeting him. She jotted down his information and took a coach to Thackery Shipping. Most of the men paid her no heed, though a few tipped their hats to her and in the office, Thackery was working out some plans when Jeanne came in. He saw her, smiled, and offered her a chair.

Hello, Missus Harrow, said Thackery. What can I do for you?

What can you do for us, corrected Jeanne, and she handed over the papers with the diagnosis and location on them. Thackery took them and Jeanne continued. I am with child and a child can't grow up without a father. I've been in correspondence with one Joseph Clauson in California. He wishes for a family of his own and I have offered to become his wife.

I see, said Thackery. An instant family, I suppose. Well, I can't really stand in the way of love and I do have an oath to keep -- except I can't very well send a pregnant woman to America all by herself.

Jeanne was taken aback. Excuse me? Why not?

It wouldn't be proper, said Thackery. I'll make all the necessary arrangements. I'll even send your man a telegraph to let him know you're on your way. I know how expensive those can be. I'll send your assistant by when I've figured out who to send with you.

Thank you so much, said Jeanne, already thinking of ways to ditch her assistant. I eagerly await their arrival.

The next day, Joseph was eating his breakfast when someone started knocking on his door. He answered it and recognized the visitor as Henry, a young man from the telegraph office. He was holding a paper and was quite out of breath.

Why don't you come in and take a seat, said Joseph. You look bushed. Did you run all the way here? I thought that you people had horses.

We do, but I can't ride one bit, said Henry. You have a message all the way from England!

Read it to me, said Joseph, sitting down to continue his breakfast. Help yourself to the juice and toast. Don't touch the bacon.

Mighty kind of you, said Henry, gathering up a plate full of toast. "Only my boss said I wasn't to read it; I had to give it to you and not put my stupid nose in the private business of our