The Sampler: MacPherson Brides, #9

By Mischelle Creager

SHE CLINGS TO HIS PROMISE THAT THEY'LL MAKE IT WORK.

HE MARRIED HER SO WHY CAN'T SHE BE HIS WIFE IN EVERY WAY?

 

Allie Sullivan lost her baby. In her grief, she doesn't have enough strength left to defy the self-appointed matron of the valley and marries her best friend Sam. Everyone says she married him. Only she has no memory of her wedding. She moves into his cabin, but not his bed. Why can't he understand? How can she be his wife if she can't remember pledging herself to him?

 

Sam Harris doesn't understand women, never has, never will. He's loved Allie for years and plans to court her. In the early winter, hope fills him as they grow closer, but sickness, death, and an interfering biddy change everything. When they are forced to marry, he promises he'll give Allie time and a room of her own until she's ready. But how much time does a bride need to become a wife?

What happens when love isn't enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Worbly Publishing
• Release date: Oct 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215638583

Mischelle Creager

Mischelle Creager writes inspirational historical romances set in the mid-1800s. She’s not sure which she loves more—researching or writing. When she’s not doing one of those two things, she can probably be found reading or baking. She is a wife whose wonderful husband told her, when he retired several years ago, that he wanted to support her in her writing and took over all the household chores, including sweeping, dusting, and laundry.  He even cleans up for her after she bakes! Her son and daughter are always available to help with social media questions. Mischelle loves to share her historical research and has a website, Under The Attic Eaves, filled with tidbits she’s found in books written in the 19th Century. She also “reprints” a historical magazine, Worbly’s Family Monthly Magazine, filled with items from books and magazines published in the middle of the 1800s. You can visit these two sites at http://undertheatticeaves.com/ and http://worblysmagazine.com  . If you would like to know more about Mischelle and her family, please visit her blog, Families Across the Generations at http://familiesacrossthegenerations.blogspot.com/ or my website at http://mischellecreager.com. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Near the southwestern tip of Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains, Early September, 1865

Why can’t you give me an answer? Allie MacPherson Sullivan stared at her dearest companion, the only one with whom she could share her deepest fears, the one to whom she told her most secret secrets, the one who never told her…never said…

The cow mooed long and low while she looked back with her big brown eyes.

And that’s your answer to everything, isn’t it, old girl? Allie brushed the hair above the cow’s eyes. Well, at least, you never give me wrong advice, do you?

Dull pain pressed against Allie’s heart. Why did you leave like you did, Norrie? Visions of her sister, not even a year older than herself and long gone, filled her thoughts as she led the cow out of her stall and got her ready to milk. Are you still alive? Will you ever come back?

Allie scooped feed into a trough and sat on a small stool to milk the cow. With every shot of milk that pinged into the bucket, memories of begging her sister not to leave shot through her head. Oh, Norrie, you left everything here—friends, family, safety from the cruel hand of Eduard Hirsch.

If Allie were a man, she would have spit when that name entered her head. Oh, how she hated the man—hated him almost as much as she feared him.

A little while later, her chores were done. She glanced around at the animals in the barn, animals she loved and cared for. A mournful sigh whispered on the late afternoon air. At least, you won’t leave me. I guess that I’m enough for you.

She picked up her milk bucket and headed to Jacob’s cabin, her home since her older sister Katy had married Jacob Matthews years before.

A cool breeze blew and tugged at the loose hairs of her braid and made a few loose red strands move across her eyes. Naked trees stood around the sides of Jacob’s house like skeletons. Their fallen leaves joined the breeze and danced around her shoes.

Allie! Wait up.

She stopped and turned around. Sam Harris, an old hat flopping along with his too-long light brown hair, hurried toward her with a couple of fishing poles, a can, and an old raggedy quilt.

He jogged closer. Wanna go fishing? I’m done with my work for the day.

Allie couldn’t help but smile at her best friend—a best friend to whom she couldn’t confide the fears she shared with only the cow in the barn. Sam knew she loved fishing better than just about anything, except taking care of animals. She felt her insides twitch—not at the thought of going fishing, but at the idea of loving animals so much. Fishing didn’t bother her—that was just a way to get food. Tending animals was a way to help them, whether they were horses or cows or dogs, or even birds with hurt wings.

Sam chuckled. By the looks of that grin, I can take it that you’re accepting my invite.

When have I ever not gone fishing when you’ve asked me, especially when I always catch more than you? Allie loved to tease Sam. It reminded her of her brothers and the other boys she had grown up with before her father died. Then memories of the time after Da’s passing when her family was torn apart jabbed into her thoughts. She gave her head a tiny shake to send those memories flying. Today was where she had to live, not yesterday. Did you bring the worms?

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. How many times have I ever asked you to go fishing and not brought the worms?

Allie made a face that caused him to laugh, just like she knew it would. I’ll get us something to eat. Without waiting for a reply, she hurried into the house, knowing that he’d be waiting for her when she returned.

Inside, the cabin smelled of ginger and molasses. Katy must have baked some of Granny MacPherson’s ginger cookies. Allie glanced around the main room and spied her sister Katy and Jacob sitting at the kitchen table. Their heads nearly touched—one with a red braid flowing down her back and the other with shaggy, black hair that joined a bushy black beard. Her step-brother Noah and the three Indian children Katy and Jacob had taken in were playing on the large rug in front of the fireplace. At the other end of the rug, Allie’s three-year-old niece, red-headed like her mother, bounced on her bottom while she cooed a song to her little sister, black-haired like her father.

Allie looked away from them. If only Norrie were still here, the family would be complete. Pain thudded in her chest again as she thought about her sister who had run away from the valley to who knew where, when some soldier who had come with a message for Jacob. Only Jacob and Katy hadn’t been here at the time, so they couldn’t keep Norrie from sneaking off when the soldiers left.

She brushed away the thoughts of Norrie and set the pail of milk in the dry sink for whatever Katy planned to do with it—cheese, butter, or something else, like a big bowl of pudding that the children all loved.

With that taken care of, Allie grabbed some of Katy’s cookies, along with a few pieces of the venison jerky Jacob always kept on hand, and shoved them into a cloth bag. I’m going fishing with Sam. She waved to everyone and no one in particular, but caught a grin and a wave from her sister in the corner of her eye.

She exchanged her shawl for a heavier cloak from a peg by the door and hurried out the door.

On the porch, Sam pulled away from the post where he was leaning while he waited for her. Ready?

Allie gave him a quick nod. They headed to the creek that ran through the valley, dividing the Harris cabins from Jacob, Sarge, and Mackie’s cabins. As if thinking about the great-uncle, Mackie hobbled out of his barn and waved to them. She waved back, still amazed that in this huge country she and her sisters had found her grandfather’s youngest brother. And an even greater wonder was how Mackie now accepted her and her sisters as family and not as them wimmin like he called Florence and Molly on the other side of the valley.

How’re things with you and yours? Allie settled on the quilt Sam had laid on a large, flat rock Jacob had moved by the creek for times like this. She couldn’t help but smile at her brother-in-law’s thoughtfulness. The quilt and her cloak formed enough padding against the hardness of the rock.

Sam handed her a worm and took one for his hook. ’Bout the same. Molly sent over a pie. He patted his middle. It was real good. Tom brought his boys along to the orchard today. A smile spread across his face. Maybe that’s why she made that pie. Might have to take my nephews more often if that’s the reward I get.

Allie shook her head. Sam was ruled by his belly more than any man she knew. But then, he was the only single man in the whole valley, if one didn’t count Mackie and Sarge, who were old as the hills. She couldn’t help but smile at that saying. Well, they were next to her almost twenty years.

Sam settled beside her. Moments later, they tossed their corks, hooks, and worms into the water. Thank goodness, Aunt Florence has settled down now that she’s got a place big enough for Little Johnny to crawl around in, and it’s finally finished to her liking. I never did think that Uncle John was gonna get it done enough to stop her complaining.

Allie ignored his complaint about his aunt since she had heard enough of that woman’s complaints about her and her sisters through the years. Must be nice living in John’s old cabin instead of that room in the barn. Allie spotted her cork dip into the creek. She jerked on her pole and brought in a good-sized trout. I got one first.

But only by a hair. Sam jerked on his own pole and landed another trout. He chuckled. And mine’s bigger.

He hooked both fish on a piece of string he had in his pocket and let them back into the water, where they could wait for the rest of the fish they might catch. He dropped back on the quilt, put another worm on his hook, and tossed it back in the creek. When’re Jacob and Katy going to visit the Indians again?

Allie’s worm followed his. It wouldn’t be long. They want to go soon, so they can be back well before Christmas. Noah’s so excited. He loves to go and is a big help to Katy. He’s really good with the younger ones.

She glanced at Sam. He was staring at her, a worried look on his face.

Are you going with them? His voice was a bit tense.

No. I went once. I’d rather stay here and look after the animals and the cabin.

Sam’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

An hour or so later and without any more nibbles from the fish, Allie pulled her hook from the water. I’d best get back and help Katy with the children.

Allie stuffed what little remained of their food back into the cloth bag. Sam gathered up the fishing poles. She stood. Her heel caught on the edge of the raggedy quilt. Her arms flung around as she tried to keep from falling. The bag fell to the ground.

Sam dropped the poles and caught her. She grabbed his shoulders. He pulled her closer.

Her heart pounded. She watched his eyes widen and twinkle. Twinkle? Men’s eyes don’t twinkle, do they? Something jerked around in her middle. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. His lips spread a bit. She jerked back. Away from him, away from something she wasn’t sure she wanted to happen.

Sam’s just a friend. She grabbed the food sack. Keep the fish. Have them for supper. I’ve got to get back. She turned and nearly ran to the cabin, repeating to herself, Sam’s a friend, just a friend. Sam’s a friend, just a friend.

All the way along the dirt path, the one thing she couldn’t figure out was why her stomach kept jumping around like it was. After all, Sam was just a friend, wasn’t he?

Sam watched Allie hightail it to Jacob’s place. A deep sigh burst between his lips. The fishing hadn’t gone exactly as he had hoped. Nope, it’d gone much better. Once Uncle John and his family had moved out of John’s first cabin into the much larger one he and the other men of the valley had built, Sam had moved into that old cabin. Ever since then, fierce urgings to have a family of his own had grown inside him, and they all centered around Allie. She was the woman he wanted to marry.

It had been so hard to keep his feelings under control. He knew Allie didn’t feel the same—yet. But with the way she had acted when he held her, she finally seemed to see him as a man, not just a friend.

Yep, life was going his way. Now all he had to do was get her to see him as the man she wanted to marry.

Before Allie got to the cabin, she decided to go to the barn instead, if only for a few minutes. She needed to calm herself.

Once inside her own little haven, she lit a lantern and leaned against one of the posts that held up the roof. Bit by bit, peace settled over her. This was where she had control. This was where she was enough. She knew how to care for the animals when one got sick. It hurt to lose any of them, but it had been a long, long time since that had happened.

Jacob’s dog Sadee' limped over to her. They had formed a special bond ever since she had saved the dog after that horrible man Zeke Mullins shot Jacob, Lame Elk, and Sadee'. Allie reached down and scratched the dog’s head. She had been able to save the dog’s life, but Sadee' had been too injured to travel long distances anymore with Jacob when he traveled from one Indian camp to another on his trading routes.

Allie straightened and moved from stall to stall, checking on the horses and mules, and of course, the cow. At the end of the barn, she let out a sigh. If only the whole world could be like this—a place where all was quiet, a place where she knew what to do if anyone got hurt, a place when she would be…

The barn door creaked open. Allie jerked around and watched Katy enter and walk down the middle of the barn to the back, like a moth drawn to the light of the lantern. Katy drew near. Allie ignored the smile on her sister’s face and concentrated on the worry that filled Katy’s eyes.

You didn’t come back to the cabin. Is everything all right?

Allie shrugged. The animals are fine.

Katy rested her hand on Allie’s shoulder. I wasn’t talking about the animals. You seem so, I don’t know what—maybe sad, lonely, worried. I’m not sure what, but know that you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you, like you did when you were younger.

Allie swallowed back a deep sigh along with all the things that haunted her. Her sister wouldn’t understand. Katy had a good life filled with so much. Katy was the strong one, the one everyone could count on to do the right thing.

Are you fretting over Eduard Hirsch finding us here? Katy tightened her fingers a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to show she still had hard feelings about the man who used to whip her with a leather strap for no cause other than his cruel heart.

Allie shrugged, causing Katy to drop her hand. Probably as much as you fear those brothers of Zeke Mullins coming after Jacob.

Fear? Katy smiled and shook her head. I think I have finally learned what Ma learned years ago, what she tried to teach us.

Allie glanced at the small area in the barn that she had made into a refuge for herself. Her sampler hung on the barn wall. It had been the one thing, other than her clothes, she had been allowed to take when their new step-father sent them to live with his brother. This one was a childish attempt to copy the one in Jacob’s cabin, the one Ma had made and her brother Tristan had claimed. The embroidery floss on this one was faded with the years. The letters were a little crooked. She had believed the words at the time she had sewn them as a small child, but she wasn’t sure now.

That was always Ma’s favorite saying. Katy gripped Allie’s hand and repeated the words they had heard all of their lives. Do not fear tomorrow, for God above holds all our yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows in His hands.

Allie gave her sister’s hand a final squeeze and dropped it. If only I could believe like Ma, like Katy.

Just a little more to do. Just a little more, then I can put the boys to bed and go to sleep myself. Molly Harris, Sam’s sister-in-law, dried the pot she had cooked stew in for supper. She hung the damp dishcloth on the nail by the counter and glanced at the framed sampler that she’d had her husband Tom nail up shortly after they had moved into the cabin. Actually, it was more than a sampler with all the words on it, but it had become her daily guide. It was so hard to follow all those rules, but she needed to try so Tom would be proud of her. She owed him that much for what he had done for her.

Molly glanced around the main room in her home. It wasn’t all that bad. Still, it shamed her now for the way she had acted when she had first come to the valley, but then she was still reeling from the loss of something that never should have been.

Uncle Pete and Aunt Sylvia had been so kind to ask them to share their cabin when they saw that Tom had married. They had planned for him to stay in that storeroom in the barn like Sam at Uncle John’s place. Oh, how she had ranted that she wouldn’t live in a barn. It didn’t matter that there was a snug room which would give them privacy.

Uncle Pete and Aunt Sylvia decided to build a small one-room cabin for themselves and leave the larger cabin with two small bedrooms for her and Tom. The older couple had even stayed in that room in the barn until the new cabin was built. Then they moved into it and seemed happy in their little world.

A small twinge of guilt tugged at Molly’s conscience when she remembered how Sylvie died of a fever not long after that. There had followed a time of anger and hurt on both sides, before she and Uncle Pete had made peace. When he had died a year ago, she had truly mourned the old man’s passing. He had been more of a father to her than the drunk her mother had married.

The outside door opened. Tom came inside, smelling like the barn. Everything’s closed up for the night. He hung his hat and coat on a peg by the door. About ready for bed?

She forced a smile to her lips and nodded. Oh, how she wished this man loved her enough to forgive her past, her betrayal. If she could pay back all he’d done for her, would his heart be able to open enough to love her? How much more did she need to do? She had already given him two sons, kept his home, done all she could as his wife. What more was there?

Chapter 2

Allie, my sweet Allie. Visions of Allie swam in Sam’s head while he picked up the firewood he’d chopped at the back of his cabin. Even though it had been three, no four weeks since that afternoon at the creek, his chest tingled a bit like it always did whenever he thought about holding Allie after she tripped.

He stopped a moment and glanced across the creek. Smoke rose from the chimney at Jacob’s house. He wondered what Allie was cooking for supper. He hoped that she was staying warm. How long would it take Jacob and Katy to get back from their rounds to the Indian camps? Sam knew that it could still be weeks away, especially with the weather. It seemed that they were having more snow than usual. Or maybe, it seemed that way because he was so worried about Allie.

Still, he hated to think about Allie over there by herself. He chuckled. She wasn’t really by herself. Sgt. Bo Phillips lived in Jacob’s old cabin, and Mackie was in his. But what could those two old men do if someone decided to break into Jacob’s place, like Zeke Mullins’s men did a few years back. Only that time, they took Katy.

Something seemed to crawl on the back of his neck. His hand cried out to rub the place, but he knew there wasn’t anything there. That feeling had been there lots of times before. He glanced to the side at Uncle John’s cabin. Yep, Aunt Florence stood at the window, watching him.

He kicked a pebble that lay next to his boot. That woman watched everything going on in the valley. Then she made a point of letting everyone know what they were doing wrong.

Sam sneaked another peek at Jacob’s cabin before he glanced back at his own. His chest puffed out just a bit. It felt good to move out of that little room in the barn and into the cabin with all that space—a main room and two bedroom—for himself. He chuckled again as he turned back to look at the place where Allie lived now.

If he had his way, he would be sharing his cabin with Allie within the year. He needed to find some way to make her love him like he loved her, some way—

Something that shouldn’t be there came out of the maze of boulders and trees on the other side of the valley. He stopped and stared for a moment. Then he raced to the cabin near his.

Uncle John! Uncle John! Sam pounded his fist on the door.

The door jerked open. Aunt Florence glared at him. Her voice came out in a hiss. Stop shouting. I finally got Johnny to sleep.

Sam cringed when the cries of the little boy filled the air.

Uncle John stepped behind his wife and laid a hand on her shoulder. What is it, Sam?

Aunt Florence gave Sam a hard glare before she turned back into the cabin.

Someone’s coming into the valley. Sam kept his voice low so his aunt wouldn’t scold him again. There’s a wagon. I couldn’t tell if anyone was in the back of it, but there are several animals tied on behind it.

Get our horses. Don’t worry ’bout saddlin’ them. Uncle John turned back into the cabin.

Moments later, Sam brought out two horses. John reached the barn with a rifle in his hand. Let’s go.

They galloped across the valley and spotted Sarge Phillips and Mackie talking to a young kid. At least he looked like a young kid to Sam. The stranger couldn’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. Something—a memory, a face—moved in the back of Sam’s head. The kid looked a little familiar.

Sam spotted Allie coming from Jacob’s cabin. He wanted to shout at her to go back until the men learned what was going on, but he figured Uncle John would handle that. Before anyone could say anything, cries filled the air. They sounded like the same ones that had filled Uncle John’s house a few minutes before. The cries started the hens clucking in the back of the wagon and a cow mooed. Allie rushed forward.

Sam’s heart almost pounded out of his chest. He had to protect Allie and nudged his horse with the heels of his boots to block Allie from getting to the wagon. He jumped off and stood in front of her. Stay there until we find out what’s happening.

Allie’s eyes flashed at him. I know what’s happening. There’s a baby that needs help. She tried to push him aside, but he held her back. Wait until Uncle John or Sarge checks out the back of the wagon just to be on the safe side.

The boy in the wagon glanced around at everyone. His eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders drooped. His fingers shuffled the horses’ reins from one hand to the other. Name’s Brad Connors. I’m looking for Jacob Matthews. Directions I got brought me here. Is this the right place? Is he here?

Mackie leaned on his wooden cane. Whatcha want with him? And what’s that catterwallin’ comin’ from your wagon?

Hens and little kids. The boy nodded over his shoulder. Baby needs tending.

Sam tried to grab Allie, but she pushed past him. At the wagon, she looked over the side of it. There’s three children back here. Give them to me.

Before the Connors boy could turn around to the back, Sam hurried over and lifted out a squalling, stinky bundle and handed it to Allie. Next, he reached in and picked up a little girl, maybe a year old. Uncle John came up next to the wagon and grabbed hold of a small boy who looked to be about three.

Allie cuddled the smelly one. We need to get them taken care of now. Bring the other two. Without waiting for agreement, she headed back to Jacob’s place.

Sam looked at his uncle, shrugged, and followed her. John made a sound somewhere between a harrumph and a chuckle while he glanced up at the stranger. You heard the gal. Come on down. Mackie and Sarge’ll take care of your wagon and animals.

Once inside the cabin, Sam made coffee while Allie tended to the baby in one of the bedrooms. Uncle John cut and buttered slices of bread. The Connors boy sat and held the little girl and boy—one on each leg. After pouring milk for the little ones, Uncle John