Irene Porter, Mail Order Bride

By Tracy Boswell

The thought of going blind scared Irene witless. She had to accept it, however. Because she had no other choice. There was nothing she—or anyone else—could do to change it. And she had tried to resign herself to the way her life would be.
She had found ways to compensate for her deteriorating eyesight in the familiar setting of the orphanage, and she had imagined that she would remain there for the rest of her days, teaching and helping to care for the children without any family.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Mortimer had other ideas for Irene's future. When Irene's eighteenth birthday had arrived, the older woman had given her a choice—become a mail order bride or find a means to support herself in Chicago. But either way, she must leave the orphanage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201350888

Book preview

IRENE PORTER, MAIL ORDER BRIDE

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TRACY BOSWELL

TABLE OF CONTENTS

IRENE PORTER, MAIL ORDER BRIDE

REDEEMABLE

MOTHER ANGEL

LONE MOON RANCH

THE OATH

SARAH’S PRAYER

TIME ON FIRE

IRENE PORTER, MAIL ORDER BRIDE

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Chapter One

Wyoming Territory, 1875

Irene Porter cursed her failing eyesight as she stepped off the train and stumbled over the slightly raised edge of the depot platform.

Just before she landed in the dirt, a pair of strong arms grabbed her.

Whoa, there. The man pulled her against his broad chest, steadying her until she regained her balance.

She took a step back from him and looked up, but the lines of his face were indistinct and blurred. She could see enough to know that he had dark hair and dark eyes. But whether he was handsome or homely, she couldn’t judge. He was tall though, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. He was a big man, but he had held her gently.

Are you all right? Concern was plain in his voice, though she couldn’t clearly see his expression due to her accursed eyesight.

At first, it had just been distances that appeared fuzzy to Irene, and Mrs. Mortimer, the woman who ran the orphanage in Chicago, had refused to pay for the cost of spectacles. But when Irene’s vision had deteriorated to the point that she had starting having difficulties completing her chores without mishap, the older woman had finally called in a doctor to examine Irene. The doctor had been sympathetic when he’d given her the news that she would lose her sight completely in the none-too-distant future. But there was nothing he could do for her, and the cause of her impairment was unknown.

The thought of going blind scared Irene witless. She had to accept it, however. Because she had no other choice. There was nothing she—or anyone else—could do to change it. And she had tried to resign herself to the way her life would be.

She had found ways to compensate for her deteriorating eyesight in the familiar setting of the orphanage, and she had imagined that she would remain there for the rest of her days, teaching and helping to care for the children without any family.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Mortimer had other ideas for Irene’s future. When Irene’s eighteenth birthday had arrived, the older woman had given her a choice—become a mail order bride or find a means to support herself in Chicago. But either way, she must leave the orphanage.

Now, Irene felt cast adrift in this strange town, where she had come to marry a man she’d never met. One who had no notion of her failing eyesight. What would he do when he found out? Would he refuse to marry her? She wasn’t willing to take that risk, which was why she’d made no mention of it in her letter.

The dark-haired man standing in front of her cleared his throat, and she realized he was still waiting for an answer to his question.

Yes, I’m quite all right. Thanks to you. She ran her palms down the fabric of her cotton skirt, trying to sooth out some of the wrinkles. You saved me from taking a nasty tumble.

You’re welcome, Miss... he trailed off, obviously waiting for her to fill in the gap.

Miss Porter, she replied. Irene Porter.

He hesitated for a long moment before speaking again. It’s a pleasure you meet you, Miss Porter. I’m Lawrence Bradford.

She felt a curious sensation at the realization that this was the man she’d come here to marry. He certainly seemed like a nice enough man, and her apprehension eased just a touch. Only to return full force as another thought occurred to her. What if she didn’t live up to his expectations?

She clutched her hands tightly together, hoping that he wouldn’t be disappointed that she was the woman who would soon be his wife.

* * *

Lawrence Bradford had come to the train depot planning to send this woman on her way. He’d intended to apologize for the misunderstanding and to explain that it had been his younger brother who placed an advertisement for a mail order bride in Lawrence’s name. Yet, all his carefully rehearsed words suddenly refused to come, as he stood face to face with Irene Porter.

Her blond hair was pulled into a loose knot at her nape, and a smattering of light freckles dotted her delicate features. Her hazel eyes were ringed with gold-tipped lashes.

He felt an immediate draw to her. From the very first moment she had stumbled into his arms, she had felt as though she belonged. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a woman, especially not from the instant that they met.

Not five minutes ago, he had been firm in his resolve. Was he really considering marriage to her now? It seemed that he was. He no longer wanted to offer her money for a train ticket to any place but here. But keeping her close meant a wedding.

Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he had been so angry and against the idea when his brother had revealed what he’d done behind Lawrence’s back. Rather than being angry with Jake, perhaps he would soon find himself thanking his brother instead.

He had never considered marriage before, but it was obvious to him now that was just because he hadn’t met the right woman yet.

Is this all your luggage? He indicated the large carpetbag that had fallen to the ground at her feet when she’s tripped.

She glanced down, as though slightly confused about what he was referring to.

Oh, yes. She reached down to pick up the carpetbag.

But he was there first. Please, allow me to get that for you. My wagon is waiting right out front of the depot.

He placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her, and she allowed him to steer her through the small clusters of people on the depot platform.

Once he stowed her carpetbag in the back of his buckboard wagon, he helped her up onto the high seat. She settled on the wooden bench as he circled to the other side of the wagon and climbed up next to her.

Since he hadn’t been planning on a wedding today, the preacher wouldn’t be expecting them. But hopefully that wouldn’t be a problem.

Picking up the reins, Lawrence turned to face his bride and offered her a smile. Are you ready to visit the preacher?

Chapter Two

Yes, I’m ready, Irene replied, though it wasn’t strictly the truth.

She felt nervous as they drove through the small town toward the church. She would be giving herself into this man’s keeping, a man she didn’t know. Would he treat her kindly? How would he react if he ever learned of her impairment—when he learned of it? Because as much as she might want to hide it forever, she knew that was an impossibility. Once she became completely blind, there would be no hiding that fact, no matter how she might try, or wish it were otherwise.

Lawrence pointed out the various shops along the main street, but she had a hard time distinguishing one from the other. Everything looked the same to her. At some point, she figured that the siding had been painted different colors, but now they were so faded that they all seemed to blend together.

Finally, he pulled the buckboard to a stop in front of a whitewashed clapboard building with a small steeple.

Lawrence placed his hand on her arm for a brief moment. Wait a minute, and I’ll come around and help you down.

She nodded mutely and sat motionless as the wagon rocked back and forth when he lowered himself to the ground.

She was perfectly capable of getting down on her own, but he probably didn’t want to chance it after she’s nearly fallen flat on her face earlier.

He likely thought she was merely clumsy. But that was better than him knowing the truth, that she couldn’t see obstacles right in front of her.

Once he’d helped her down from the wagon, he led her into the church.

Good afternoon, Lawrence. What brings you here on this fine day? the preacher asked.

He was a bearded man, dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers. His voice sounded like that of a young man, perhaps around Lawrence’s age of thirty, but it was hard for Irene to know for certain since she could not see the other man clearly.

Preacher Mullins, this is Miss Porter, Lawrence introduced Irene. We’d like you to marry us.

This is a surprise, the other man remarked. I didn’t know you were looking to take a wife, Lawrence.

He didn’t respond directly to the preacher words, instead he said, Miss Porter arrived on the noon train from Chicago, and it wouldn’t be proper to take her to stay out on the ranch without going through a marriage ceremony first.

The preacher nodded his head in understanding. I see. And you are agreeable to this, Miss Porter?

Realizing that his last words had been directed toward her, she hesitated for a handful of seconds. Was this the right decision? What did she really know about Lawrence Bradford? Little more than the fact that he was a rancher looking for a wife to tend his house and cook his meals. Once they exchanged vows, there would be no going back. Then she would travel to a ranch miles from town, where she would be all alone with this man and his family, with no one to help her if she found herself in a bad situation.

Not that she had anyone to help her here in town either. She didn’t know anybody in Wyoming Territory. And who was to say whether staying here and trying to find a means of support wouldn’t turn out to be an even worse situation for her. After all, her options for employment were slim and would only become scarcer as her eyesight worsened. And surely, a husband would be at least slightly more likely to keep a blind woman around than a mere employer.

Although this was plainly not an ideal course of action, what other choice did she have? None, as far as she could see. Which admittedly wasn’t very far, she thought with dark humor. And getting shorter with each passing day.

There was no alternative open to her other than to go through with this wedding, though she feared what might come next.

She couldn’t quite force any words out past the sudden constriction in her throat, so she merely nodded for the preacher to proceed.

Well, then, let us begin. He waved them forward and opened his Bible to read the marriage ceremony.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before he closed the Bible once more and pronounced them man and wife.

Are you ready to head to your new home, Mrs. Bradford? Lawrence asked.

What have I done? Had she made the right choice? Right or not, it was too late to back out now. She could only keep moving forward. And pray that she didn’t come to regret her hasty decision to put her trust in a stranger. The man who was now her husband.

* * *

Lawrence glanced over at his wife. Irene had been silent as they left the church and during the drive out of town. Now they were a mile from the ranch, and she still hadn’t said anything. But then, neither had he.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, she spoke.

How much farther to your ranch?

We’ll reach the ranch in about half an hour, and then it will be another ten minutes or so before we arrive at the ranch house. The sun will be setting soon and the view from the front porch is unlike anything you’ve seen before.

I’m sure it is, she agreed, though a note of sadness laced her voice.

He supposed she must be thinking about everything she had left behind in Chicago.

Was she regretting her decision to come here? Would she come to regret marrying him? Would she grow to resent the hard life of a rancher’s wife?

The wind blew across the plains, sighing through the long grasses, and catching loose tendrils of Irene’s hair, causing them to dance around her face.

Rather than looking around her at the countryside surrounding them, she seemed to be staring off into nothing. He had expected her to show a bit of interest in the stunning vistas—the rolling hills stretching as far as the eye could see toward the north, and the purple mountains off in the distance to the south, silhouetted against a cloudless blue sky—which were so different from anything she must have known back east. But perhaps after looking out a train window for days on end, the passing landscape no longer held any