Chapter 3

Hannah POV

Two weeks in a stagecoach was not what I would call a good time, but I was determined to make a life in my new home. I still wondered about the man who had agreed to marry me, sight unseen. What would he think of me? I was almost as tall as the average man, so hopefully my husband to be wouldn’t mind a taller than average woman. My long red hair was pulled up in a tight bun at the nape of my neck, which was a blessing in the summer heat. As I mopped my brow and neck with my handkerchief, I glanced at my companions, a young widow, Eliza, and her son, Caleb, on their way to visit family in south Texas. She and I had become friends on the journey. By friends I mean that we shared stories of our lives and even a few hopes for the future. She was on her way to her childhood home following the death of her husband. He had passed in a railway accident. I didn’t get all of the details, but it didn’t seem like a happy marriage. Which left me to wonder if I would have to endure the same or would I be lucky enough to find security and love.

“Twenty minutes to Paris!” The stage driver shouted out to us so that we could prepare for the next stop. My stop. I had been relatively calm the entire journey, but today my worry set in and I began to fidget in my seat as I crumpled my blue skirt. I looked up at Eliza and she smiled at me in encouragement, “You’ll be fine, Hannah. I am sure that everything will work out for you. Have faith and remember you are a strong woman. It’s an adventure.”

“Thank you, Eliza, for your friendship on this journey. I think it would have been quite lonely these past few days without you. How much further until you reach home?” I replied, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I am not sure if they were from sadness to say goodbye to her or out of fear of the unknown.

“We should reach my stop by the end of the day. Don’t worry about me. Once I get home, I know things will be fine for us, right, Caleb.” She smiled as she looked down at her small son. He looked up at her with his wide blue eyes and grinned saying, “are we finally gonna get there?”

I chuckled to myself as I thought back over the past several days and how the boy would constantly ask his mother when we would arrive and when he could meet his granddad and grandmama. Kids are so cute sometimes; their impatience comes through along with their excitement for life and new adventures. I vowed to try to remember his excitement in the coming days as I adapted to my new life.

As the stage pulled into town, I put on a smile and tried to settle my heart and to steady my breathing. Relax, Hannah, you will be fine, I said to myself just as the stage coach door opened. I looked up into the most beautiful pair of pale blue eyes I had ever seen. My mouth dropped open and I gasped in surprise at the intensity and beauty of those eyes as they looked back at me. Those eyes belonged to a deep, strong voice that asked, “Miss Wills?”

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied as I reached out and grasped his extended hand. A hand that was large and tan, that showed signs of hard work and strength. Yet that hand gripped mine with a tenderness that reminded me of my father. I looked up at the face of the owner of that hand and noticed that he had a strong face, a rugged chin with just a touch of whiskers, almost as if he hadn’t shaved that morning. His brown hair just peeked out of his hat and settled in a slight curl around his ears.

“Allow me to assist you from the carriage and take you to Weston Ranch,” he said and his voice held almost a hint of sadness. I wondered if this man was my husband to be and if so, what had I done in the span of just a moment to change the tone of his voice. “I’m Jamie, Ma’am. Head foreman at Weston Ranch. Mr. Beecham was detained and unable to arrive to greet you himself.”

Oh, so this is not my husband. Well, drat! If he had been my husband, I would have enjoyed looking at him for the rest of my days. I could only hope that Mr. Beecham was as easy to look at as his foreman. “Thank you, Mr……”, I questioned, hoping to gain his last name. I didn’t want to become too familiar with this man if he was only a hired hand.

“Smythe, Ma’am. But please, call me Jamie,” Jamie said as he helped to pull me from the stage. Once I settled on the ground, he turned to the driver and collected my luggage, consisting of two small bags. As he did so, I noticed that his dark blue shirt grew taut over the hard muscles of his lean back. I looked lower and took in his tight, muscular rear end that was fitted inside a pair of denim pants.

“Ahem.”

I heard the sound and I quickly averted my eyes, which landed on Eliza’s. She raised her eyebrows in a smirk and then winked at me. Oh no, she had caught me ogling a man who was not my husband. I blushed furiously and stepped back toward the door of the stage and reached in for her hand and wished her luck on her journey and she responded to me saying, “You too. If it doesn’t work out in my home town, I may have to return and take in the local scenery.” We both chuckled as I knew exactly which scenery she was talking about. “You do that, I would love to see you again, but if not, please write to me. I would love to remain in communication,” I replied with a grin, squeezed her hand once more, and turned to Mr. Smythe and smiled, “I am ready to head to Weston Ranch when you are Mr. Smythe.”

“It’s Jamie. And we have just a short walk to the wagon from here.”

“Mr. Smythe, I couldn’t possibly call you by your given name since you are not my intended,” I admonished him with a fierce tone. At least I hoped it was fierce. I did not want this man to even suspect that I found him desirable. Oh yes, I found him to be so desirable that I could already feel my drawers getting wet. No, no, no, not from him and his good looks! No, that was just from the heat of the day, right? The inner most parts of my drawers were not wet from becoming what Mary Jane called being aroused. I mean he hadn’t even touched me other than my hand, to help me out of the stage. I can’t possibly be aroused by his eyes, words, and good looks, right? I tried to reason with myself and decided that it would do no good and I would just have to realize that this man would cause me to have dreams about him in the very near future. Oh drat, I cannot have these thoughts! I was a married woman! Well, okay, not quite. But as good as married. I had the paper license to prove it. I turned once more and waved to Eliza and Caleb, who had stuck his head out of the stage window and was waving excitedly as they pulled away.

I followed Jamie to the wagon and he helped me up on the seat. As much as I tried to think of him as Mr. Smythe, I just couldn’t in my head. Mr. Smythe was such a stuffy name and he was anything but stuffy. He was rugged, muscular and oh so fine. Oh drat! There I go again. Stop Hannah! You have to get yourself under control. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm my thoughts and move them toward a safer topic.

As we rode west out of town, I tried to think of what I could say to pass the time but I was afraid of becoming too comfortable with this man. I found myself turning to glance at him and each time I caught him looking in my direction. Finally, he broke the silence, “what made you decide to agree to become a mail order bride? I am sure you had plenty of prospects.”

“Not as many as you would think,” I scoffed. He didn’t respond, as if he was waiting for me to elaborate and so I sighed and continued, “No one even glanced my way; I am taller than I should be and I have fiery red hair. Not to mention the freckles on my face that make me look younger than I am. Plus, I am an orphan, not seen as “good stock”, at least in the social circles of St. Louis.”

“The men in St. Louis must be either blind or stupid. Each of those things you listed are what sets you apart. I would be more worried about your character and behavior. But, I am not the one who sent for a mail order bride,” he replied as his face turned from contentedness to having a slight frown on his face. As he spoke, he looked me in the eye and I could feel the intensity as he told me I was special. I discovered butterflies in my stomach and they decided that it was time to flutter around. I looked away quickly and squirmed in my seat, willing the butterflies to cease their movement.

“So, tell me about Mr. Beecham,” deciding to shift the conversation away from myself. However, his response was not what I expected.

“Miss Wills, I am not sure what you wish for me to tell you. I cannot share details about Mr. Beecham, he is my employer and in possession of Weston Ranch. It is best if you do not have my opinions to sway yours before you have the opportunity to meet him. I wonder what he shared about himself,” Jamie answered, being completely vague.

“Mr. Smythe, please explain. Are you saying that he is an unkind or unfair employer? Your words lead me to believe that he is perhaps cruel. And why would you wonder what he told me about himself? I have the letter that came with the marriage license detailing that Mr. Beecham is twenty-two years old and the owner of Weston Ranch. What are you saying?” I demanded.

“Twenty-two! Right! Well, as I said, Miss Wills, you will need to make your own judgements,” he scoffed. “And no, while he is not cruel, he is not someone I would call a friend. Enough about Mr. Beecham. I would, however, like to know more about you. How did you come to be orphaned? And, again, please call me Jamie.”

“Mr. Smythe, I cannot call you Jamie as you work for my husband. The way in which I found myself an orphan is not something that I feel comfortable sharing since I have known you for such a short time. Perhaps, since you will not answer my questions about my husband, then maybe we should spend the remainder of the trip in silence,” I responded and, to prove my point, I turned away from him and watched the scenery.

“Please forgive me, I meant no disrespect to you. I do hope that we can be friends,” he replied quietly. After a few moments of silence, the only sound coming from the horses and the wheels on the prairie, he continued in the same quiet tone, “at least I hope you will come to think of me as someone you can trust. Someone that will help to protect and care for you.”

I wanted to be rude and reply that I had a husband and he would protect me. However, I held my tongue. I could hear the regret in his words. I am sure he regretted what he said about Mr. Beecham, but I had a feeling his regret included so much more. I could tell that Jamie was a complex man and I wished that I had the luxury to dive into that complexity and figure him out.

I was brought out of my musings when Jamie broke the silence with an almost reverent air to his words, “There it is, Weston Ranch.”