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  Thea’s stomach churned, and suddenly she did not know whether she wanted to open the letter or not.

  “Is it what I think?” Bobby asked.

  “I believe so.”

  He made a pained face. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

  “Hush now. It’s for the best. And, provided I do make a match, I want to go. It will be an adventure.”

  “But you don’t have to go. You can stay with us. Ma and Pa don’t—”

  “I know, Bobby,” Thea cut in. “Our parents are good people. They would never send me out into the world alone. But this is what I want to do.”

  His face colored. “If only I weren’t such a cripple. If only I’d been the son they needed and able to do some real work. I could provide for you. I could—”

  “Stop it,” Thea said sharply. She took hold of Bobby’s shoulder. “You are perfect the way you are, and you provide for the family, no matter your health. I will not hear you talk that way.”

  After a long moment, Bobby grudgingly nodded. “So?” he asked. “Who is the letter from?”

  Thea swallowed, her nerves returning, and opened the envelope. Inside of it was a second, smaller, envelope. This one had a return address from Wyoming Territory.

  “Wyoming,” Thea whispered.

  She’d seen pictures once when a photographer came through the area. He’d brought out his slides and let all the children and adults gather around to have a look at some of the pictures he’d made. The photographs had all been of mountains with tall peaks that had reached up to the Heavens. She hadn’t been able to glean much of a sense of how folks lived out there, although she imagined life in the mountains had to be different in a myriad of ways she knew nothing about.

  She opened the letter, both eager and terrified. Her eyes swept over the page, trying to take in each word of the short message all at once.

  “It’s from a saloon owner in a town called Whiteridge,” she said.

  “A saloon?” Bobby’s eyes went wide. “What will Ma and Pa think of that?”

  “Well, it’s a means of making a living, isn’t it?” Thea asked, already feeling defensive about the man—Wakefield—though she’d never met him.

  She read the letter over again. It was simple and to the point. He pointed out that he did not want children. Thea twisted her lips, thinking about that revelation. She herself did not care much either way. She had taken part in raising six young ones already, and she always figured that if the Lord blessed her with babies, she would be happy. But if He did not, then that would be fine as well.

  But as for ensuring there were no children… well, she knew there were ways. Herbs and methods of precautions could be taken.

  Thea’s cheeks warmed as she remembered her young brother standing right next to her.

  “What are you going to do?” Bobby asked.

  Thea folded the letter back up. “I’m going to write Wakefield Briggs back.”

  “And?”

  “And give him the good news that I am headed West. So far, I have only received one marriage offer. It would be foolish to hold my breath and wait for more. They might never come. Mr. Briggs has a business and should be capable of providing for a wife.”

  Thea smiled, but the joy did not reach her heart. She had made a decision, but she still did not know if it was the right one.

  And yet, there could be no striding the fence. It was either go or stay, and the latter was really not an option. Her whole life had taken place in one small corner of the world. Now she had the chance to take a risk and see what else was out there.

  Perhaps she was headed for tragedy. Or perhaps she was headed for the greatest chapter of her life yet. Only time would tell.

  Chapter 4

  a bride to bring Westward

  4. Wakefield

  Chapter four

  Wakefield squinted and looked east, down the path that sloped away from Whiteridge and eventually left the mountains. Standing at the end of the settlement’s main and only road, he could see about a quarter of a mile. After that, the road turned sharply, disappearing behind a rocky crag.

  Kicking a pebble, he watched it skirt across the road. He should have gone to Shallow Springs instead of sending Noah. That way, he wouldn’t be so tied up and bothered waiting to hear if there was mail.

  Over a month had gone by since he’d sent in that letter to Theodora Sykes. It was silly to hold his breath and wait for a response from her, but a big part of him couldn’t help it. He didn’t want any of the other mail-order brides. Only her.

  He’d taken a look at the other photographs, but none of the ladies had done it for him. There was only one gal he wanted to bring to this tiny mountain town.

  If you could even call it that.

  Hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, Wakefield looked over his shoulder. With nearly every man in a five-mile radius at the mine for the day, he’d closed the saloon early and gone out to clear his head some.

  Across from Outpost’s doors sat the general store. Beyond that was a stable and the frame of what would soon be a blacksmith’s shop. That was it. Three buildings, if you didn’t count the one that housed animals. Which Wakefield didn’t.

  If you kept on going up the road, you’d stroll past Daniel Zimmerman’s place, the only home in the area that could be called a proper house. Everyone else lived in tiny cabins and temporary shanties that they all hoped to replace before winter.

  Wakefield himself had built his log cabin before he’d so much as cleared the land for the saloon. It had wood floors covered with rugs and windows with glass panes. All in all, it was pretty fancy if you didn’t compare it to Daniel Zimmerman’s.

  There was no way to compete with his. Daniel owned the coal mine. He was the whole reason Whiteridge existed.

  Wakefield pursed his lips and turned away from the sight with a sigh. His neck was starting to burn from the sun, and there were shelves to clear in the saloon. Supposing Noah did bring mail, it could be there would be nothing from Theodora Sykes. Wakefield had made the best case he could for marriage to him, but he knew he wasn’t exactly the finest catch in the sea.

  As he turned to go, the sound of horse’s hooves made him look up. Expecting Noah, instead he found himself looking at two men riding into town. They came in at an easy pace, their horses tired from the climb and who-knew-how-many miles of riding before that.

  Wakefield stopped where he was and tipped his hat at the two strangers. “Hello there.”

  The horses stopped, and the taller and leaner man touched the brim of his hat in greeting. Wakefield did a quick sweep of the pair. Tattered hats and slacks. Mud-covered boots. Holsters heavy with two revolvers each.

  “You looking for the mine?” Wakefield asked.

  “Traveling through,” the lean man said. He dismounted and offered Wakefield his hand. “Ed Vang. And this here is Lyman.”

  Lyman silently nodded hello.

  “Wakefield Briggs.” He shook Vang’s hand. “I’m sorry we don’t have any accommodations for travelers. Whiteridge hasn’t quite gotten its legs yet.”

  Vang frowned as he looked past Wakefield. “What’s that place there?”

  “My saloon.”

  “You don’t say?”

  Wakefield nodded.

  “It’s nice,” Vang said. “Well… I reckon another night of sleeping under the stars won’t do us any harm. Right, Lyman?”

  “Yup,” Lyman answered.

  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at the saloon later, Mr. Briggs.” Vang took his horse’s reins and continued on up the road, his friend following after him.

  “Wakefield.”

  He jerked at his name and looked back over to see Noah riding up.

  “You’re good at sneaking up,” Wakefield said.

  Noah grinned. “Or you’re good at not paying attention.” He slid off his horse and lowered his voice. “You meet Mr. Ed Vang there?”

  “You know him?” Wakefield cast a glance Vang’s way. He and Lyman had
tied their horses to the general store’s hitching post and were strolling into the building.

  “I met him in town,” Noah answered, meaning Shallow Springs. “They say he’s a claim jumper.”

  Wakefield scratched his jaw. “All right then.”

  “And that he used to be a part of one of those posses in Texas. The ones that were doing all that looting and killing last year. And that he’s worked with Indians to rob settlers.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Those are some real vague rumors,” Wakefield said. “You got any mail for me?”

  “Did you not hear what I said?” Noah asked.

  Wakefield had. Not only that, but he was thinking real hard on it. Whiteridge couldn’t afford any trouble. It didn’t have a sheriff of its own. If any need for a lawman were to arise, someone would have to ride down to Shallow Springs and notify Sheriff Ross or Deputy Guthrie. That meant a twenty-mile round trip.

  Of course Wakefield was thinking about what Noah said.

  “We’ll keep an eye on him,” Wakefield promised. “Other than that, there’s not much we can do. Plus… sometimes a rumor is just that and nothing more.”

  “True,” Noah agreed, “And, yeah. You have mail.”

  Opening the flap on his rucksack, Noah pulled out an envelope and handed it over. “It’s a New York address.”

  Wakefield’s pulse picked up as he snatched the envelope. “That’s where the agency is located.”

  “Uh-huh.” Noah licked his lips. “I have to say, I’m real surprised you went through with this.”

  He’d been about to rip into the envelope, but Wakefield paused. “You are?”

  “With, well...” Noah shifted his weight around, looking like he suddenly regretted saying anything. “I know I pushed you into this, but...”

  “You didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, only I never said anything. When you brought the subject up, I knew you were right. It’ll be good to have a wife around.”

  “That’s what I think, too. For you, I mean. Good for you to...” He trailed off again.

  “Noah. It’s fine.”

  Noah pursed his lips. “I didn’t mean to say...”

  “You said nothing. And we can best forget about it. It’s fine. Really.”

  Noah’s gaze locked on Wakefield’s. There were questions hidden there, and Wakefield prayed none of them would come up. Not today. Not in a moment that was supposed to be happy.

  “Open it up,” Noah encouraged.

  “It’s too bright here.”

  “Right then.” Noah cleared his throat, understanding that Wakefield needed some time and some privacy. “I’ll put the horse up and see you inside.”

  Wakefield didn’t know if he answered or not. He was too busy staring at the envelope as he walked over to the saloon’s front porch. Easing down on the top step, he took refuge in the shade and carefully tore open the seal.

  But he couldn’t pull the letter out. Not yet.

  Suppose Theodora’s answer was ‘no?’ Did he write to another mail-order bride? Did he even want to try again?

  Wakefield had always been particular about the things he wanted. Once he set his sights on something, he had to have it. There could be no alternatives.

  If Theodora didn’t want to come to Wyoming and be with him, he’d understand. But he’d also put the whole mail-order bride thing to rest after that. One rejection would be too many, and he wouldn’t want to put himself through it all over again.

  Glancing up, he found Noah nowhere to be found. Likely, he was taking his time putting the horse in the little stable behind the saloon.

  Seizing his time alone, Wakefield bit the bullet and pulled out the envelope.

  Dear Mr. Briggs,

  I was very pleased to receive your letter. Life in Wyoming Territory sounds like an adventure, to put it in the kindest way possible. Although please rest assured, I am up for the challenge of whatever life will bring.

  I know I was not very specific in my initial posting, so I would like to provide you with some transparency now. I was widowed a few months ago, after only being married for as many months.

  Finding myself in such a situation in the sparsely populated area from which I hail from creates a predicament. If I were to seek a second husband, I would need to travel to Charleston or another urban local. As it is, even that route would not guarantee me success. I have very little to my name, other than the money I have accumulated from selling mine and my late husband’s goods.

  The house and land, as it is, will go to his brother. I was not placed in the will.

  I understand that hearing I have so recently been widowed may come as a shock. If you wish to pass me over, I will make peace with that choice and wish you well.

  However, if you still decide that you would like to enter into an engagement with me, I will be on the next Westward train. All I await is your response.

  With well wishes,

  Theodora Sykes

  Wakefield read the letter over once more, absorbing every word. Theodora’s late husband had not put her into his will. What kind of a man would do that—leave his bride out in the cold after his passing?

  His skin burned hot to think of any woman being treated in such a manner. He would do better for Theodora, he promised himself. He would work each day to show her she was worthy of the best care possible.

  Jumping up from the step, he unlocked the saloon and rushed across the main area and into the office, where he dropped into his chair and grabbed a sheet of paper. He couldn’t wait another minute. He had a bride to bring Westward.

  Chapter 5

  listen and take heed

  5. Thea

  Chapter five

  The house Thea had known for not even a year was now empty, not a piece of furniture left in it. Jeb’s brother had come the day before and picked up the bed frame and wardrobe. He’d been kinder than Jeb likely would have been, leaving the other objects for Thea to sell. The piano and her wedding band had brought in the most, but the cook stove had gone for a good amount as well.

  She now had a nice sum of money, which she’d wrapped in a little pouch and sewed to the pocket of her dress. Every time she patted the lump, she felt comforted. It was more money than she’d ever had, and she planned to spend it very sparingly. Wakefield Briggs had his own business to support them with, but it would be nice to have some money of her own.

  Perhaps she would be able to buy him some kind of wedding present once she got to Wyoming. Or maybe their home would need a repair. It was nice to know she had the savings to dip into should the need ever arise.

  On the morning of her departure, Thea and Emily walked to the empty cabin, their arms linked together. Thea had spent the last few nights with her family, bouncing the little ones on her knee and playing games with the older children. She did not know when she would see any of them again, if ever. She wanted to have a last memory of them to take with her on her journey.

  Her parents, she knew, felt guilt over her decision. It was the same with them as it was with Bobby. What Thea had told her brother was true, though. None of them could have planned for the difficulties life had brought them. The best they could do was lift their chins high, gather their wits and bravery, and press on.

  “It really was a lovely home,” Thea commented, looking at the cabin. A breeze picked up, making the weeping willow by the front door dance. Along with the wind came the sweet scent of wildflowers. In the field across the way, light burst across the grass.

  She would have stayed if she could, but that was not an option. There were no jobs in the area for her. The only place to become a working woman would be in Charleston, and Thea was not going there. Cities were fine for visiting, but she abhorred the idea of living in one.

  She needed the wild. Needed the sun on her face and the solemn emptiness that came with a quiet dawn. She would have enjoyed those things where she stood if she could, but since that was not possible, Wyoming Territor
y it was.

  “Don’t you think of… him when you look at it?” Emily timidly asked.

  Thea bit her bottom lip. “Not really. It almost seems as if he never existed.” She sighed. “I do pray for him. I hope he has found peace with God.”

  Emily nodded. “Are you scared?”