Mail Order Barbara (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 14) Read online

  Mail Order Barbara

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies, Book 14)

  ~~~

  A Green River Tale

  By

  Elissa Strati

  Contents

  DEDICATION

  MAIL ORDER Barbara

  COPYRIGHT

  EDITION LICENSE NOTES

  DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1 – Nightmare

  CHAPTER 2 – Police

  CHAPTER 3 – Our Lady of Mercy

  CHAPTER 4 – Alice

  CHAPTER 5 – Judith

  CHAPTER 6 – Emily

  CHAPTER 7 – The Board of Directors

  CHAPTER 8 – Sharing Concerns

  CHAPTER 9 – Brides Wanted

  CHAPTER 10 – Running the Orphanage

  CHAPTER 11 – Opportunities

  CHAPTER 12 – Westward, Ho?

  CHAPTER 13 – Discussions

  Gracie

  Clara

  Margaret and Elizabeth

  Katherine and Maria

  Samantha

  Bernadette

  Christine

  Judith

  CHAPTER 14 – Anna

  CHAPTER 15 – Decisions

  CHAPTER 16 – Preparations

  CHAPTER 17 – Wedding Bells

  CHAPTER 18 -- Surprises

  CHAPTER 19 – Love Letters

  CHAPTER 20 – Measles

  CHAPTER 21 – The Train

  CHAPTER 22 – Kansas

  CHAPTER TWELVE ― Finding Their Way

  the dance

  CHAPTER FOUR – Next Chapter

  PLEASE POST A REVIEW

  https://www.Amazon.com/review/create-review?&asin=B0896ZKPBZ

  ABOUT THIS SERIES

  NOTES ON MAIL ORDER BARBARA

  (Or, More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About My Upcoming Books)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  (Including Contact Links)

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElissaStratiAuthor

  Twitter: Betababe [@AvenueAntiques]

  Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Elissa-Strati/e/B077GLWD94

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17307510.Elissa_Strati

  BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/elissa-strati

  Sweet Promise Press: https://sweetpromisepress.com/authors/strati

  AllAuthor: https://allauthor.com/author/elissastrati

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  AUTHOR’S HISTORICAL NOTES

  ~~~ANNA

  ~~~[Clara redux] AT RANCH

  ~~~Margaret

  Barbara the dance

  Meeting Dorothy Cooper

  #RESCUING JUDITH

  DEDICATION

  For

  Barbara Goss

  Who encouraged me (and continues to do so),

  Provided needed support as I was starting out,

  Demonstrated her faith in me,

  And moved me forward along the path.

  Thank You!

  MAIL ORDER Barbara

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 14)

  A Green River Tale

  By

  Elissa Strati

  COPYRIGHT

  Mail Order Barbara ©2020 Elissa Strati

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, includ­ing photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Elissa Strati, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coinci­dental and not intended by the author.

  ~~~

  EDITION LICENSE NOTES

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  ~~~

  Cover design and logo inset by Black Widow Books, Virginia McKevitt, cover artist.

  Series concept by Cheryl Wright.

  DESCRIPTION

  Fleeing an abusive stepfather, two sisters find a home with the Sisters of Mercy. But the Board of Governors won't permit girls over six­teen to remain at the orphanage. They are expected to find positions as maids or shop­keeper’s assistants once they are old enough to do so. There are enough charges on any system of charity without keeping able-bodied young women coddled on the public charge, never mind that the Sisters’ asylum is a private insti­tution and the Lord’s work!

  Malnourishment in their formative years has kept most of the girls looking smaller and younger than they are and Sister Evangeline maintains deliberately vague records, to allow her charges time to mature to the point of look­ing out for themselves. Many girls have been successfully placed in good positions, using the training they have received from the Sisters, but Sister Evangeline wants the best for each of her girls.

  Learning from her brother, Father Flana­gan, of the need for young women of good character out west, she schemes to give her girls their chance.

  Can city girls find happiness as Mail Order Brides out west?

  CHAPTER 1 – Nightmare

  Barbara crept up the stairs carrying the bottle her mother had requested. She listened carefully at the door but could hear nothing. She sent up a fervent prayer that her stepfather was not lying in wait just inside the door, and peered into the apartment. Relief swept through her when she realized the kitchen was empty, and she quickly put away her purchases.

  Then she became aware of a knocking sound. Where was that coming from? She froze. Her bedroom. The one she shared with her younger sister Emily. Her hand raised to her mouth, she tiptoed to the room. The door was open a crack and she could now hear her sister’s muffled moans and cries and see her stepfather, who was ravishing the child.

  Slamming the door open, as he groaned in pleasure and collapsed atop his stepdaughter, she charged at him, shrieking, hands raised into claws, ready to attack. He laughed at her, one meaty arm sweeping her aside, but not before she scratched his face deeply. His laughter turned into a roar of pain and he staggered off the bed to chase her, tripping on his own pants which were tangled about his lower legs.

  He didn't even bothered to undress, the filthy pig, thought Barbara. He had treated an innocent child like an alley prostitute.

  And then she realized that in tripping he had hit his head against the wall of the narrow room and it was now lying at an odd angle, his eyes open and staring and his tongue lolling outside his mouth. She screamed again, in horror.

  Into the scene stumbled her mother, face slack from drink, fresh bruises showing on her face and arms, but a light of battle in her eyes. Seeing her husband's corpse, she fell upon him weeping. Barbara shook her head; she couldn't tell whether her mother had been coming to defend her husband or her daughter.

  Huddled against the wall, Emily giggled and sniffled and wailed, tears running down her face, the vacant look of shock on her juvenile features. There was a lot of blood on the sheets and on her legs which were twisting and writhing, her hands plucking nervously at the sheets and her torn dress.

  Barbara picked herself up carefully, avoiding her mother's now softly snoring form, and crept back over to the bed. Putting her arm around her sister, she guided Emily in
to the kitchen.

  The kettle sat at the back of the stove. Pouring some warm water into the basin, she dipped a towel in it, then wiped her sister’s body carefully, cleaning her up as best she could. Emily just sat there like a toy as Barbara tended to her, using her fingers to comb her sister's hair.

  Stealthily she crept back into the bedroom, and found a dress which she buttoned onto her sister, easing her feet into shoes and then looking around to see if there was anything else useful for her to take. She left the gin bottle her mother had sent her out for, but grabbed the half loaf of bread she’d managed to purchase with the change, and together they left the apartment. Emily still moved mechanically, allowing her sister to walk her the three blocks over to Our Lady of Mercy Orphans Home and Convent, next door to St. Francis Church. She guided Emily up the steps and knocked on the door.

  “Can you help her?” asked Barbara. Seeing the bruises starting to show on Emily's frail figure, Sister Evangeline held open the door and ushered the two girls in.

  CHAPTER 2 – Police

  It seemed the noise had been loud enough to actually attract attention in an area used to a great deal of commotion. Someone had called for the police, who arrived not too long after the girls had departed. They found Mrs. Spicer passed out on the corpse of her late husband and drew their own conclusions from the blood on the bed and the position of his trousers around his knees and ankles. Detective McGarity looked at his sergeant, clearly showing his disgust.

  “Good riddance to one bad citizen,” he grumbled under his breath, “but what do we do with this one?” poking his toe at the prone Mrs. Spicer, who grunted, but quickly resumed snoring. They looked around at the rest of the cramped space. Despite the evident poverty, an attempt had been made to keep it clean, but a bowl of blood-stained water sat atop the table and a torn and bloody rag lay next to it. Carefully picking up the rag, McGarity realized it had once been a dress, plain and simple but beautifully sewn.

  Looking up he met Sergeant Donnell’s sad eyes with his own bleak stare. “Wonder which of the girls he hurt?”

  City or not, there were no strangers in this neighborhood, and Alice Jones had been a good girl, happily married to Tom McKevitt and a loving mother to their two daughters. Then Tom had been killed in an accident at the dock, leaving the family destitute. Alice had fallen in with Owen Spicer who wasn’t a bad sort when he was sober. But he was a mean drunk and had gotten Alice hooked on gin—and perhaps more. Donnell was waving a half-empty laudanum bottle by two fingers.

  A few questions of the neighbors revealed the girls had headed for St. Francis and that both had looked the worse for wear.

  ~~~

  “They aren’t in trouble,” Detective McGarity assured Sister Evangeline. “At least not with the law. What trouble that b . . .,” he coughed, “. . . that stepfather of theirs may have caused is another matter.”

  McGarity saw the look of a mother grizzly cross over Sister’s normally serene face, and nearly crossed himself for protection. At least those poor girls have Sister on their side, he thought.

  “I have them in the Infirmary,” Sister confirmed. She looked him up and down.

  “I think I can trust you not to be hurting them any more than they already have been, young Steven. But unless that mother of theirs turns a new leaf, they'll stay here with me from now on.”

  McGarity nodded his agreement. That would absolutely be for the best, considering that Sergeant Donnell had hauled Mrs. Spicer to the drunk tank until she sobered up enough to say what had happened.

  Stepping quietly into the room, he saw Emily lying still as a corpse on the cot, covered to the chin with a white sheet and blanket despite the day's heat. Sitting next to her, holding and stroking her hand, was Barbara, who turned a tear-stained face to him. He was shocked at the bruises on both their faces and arms and wondered what further damage had been done to Emily.

  “He attacked her,” said Barbara abruptly. “He hurt her real bad,” she added bitterly. “He's been after me for the last year and I've been able to avoid him but I never thought about him going after a baby. She's not yet twelve years old! I didn't kill him but I'm glad he's dead.”

  “No,” agreed McGarity, “you didn't kill him. It was perfectly plain he tripped and killed himself. But if he hadn't, I suspect there are a number of men who would have done it for him.”

  Barbara looked at him carefully. She knew he had a daughter of his own at home, and nodded, understanding what he was telling her.

  “Our mother?” she asked.

  “Locked away for now, until we can find out what went on.”

  “She must have been next door with Maisie Smith because she wasn't there when I got back from fetching her another bottle of gin. She let this happen, though. I don't think I ever want to see her again.”

  “I've already promised Sister Evangeline I would not be removing you from here,” he assured her solemnly.

  CHAPTER 3 – Our Lady of Mercy

  While Emily gradually healed physically, her mind was still locked off. Her face maintained a vacant stare although a slight smile would appear when she saw her sister. She became capable of attending to her own needs, dressing herself and eating, and the girls were able to leave the Infirmary for the dormitory. She even attended classes with Barbara, although she either stared into space or, if a pencil were put into her hand, would draw meaningless circles, sometimes straying right off the page. Barbara stopped giving her a pencil and just let her sit. The whole orphanage said prayers for Emily at breakfast and at dinner. And when the group attended Mass on Sundays, she received a special blessing when the rest took communion.

  There had been a cake to celebrate Emily’s twelfth birthday. She seemed to smile a bit when the girls sang to her, and enjoyed the treat, but then slipped even deeper into her shell.

  ~~~

  In addition to basic school work, the girls were being trained in needlework, cleaning, cooking, and other skills they would need in order to acquire jobs or, for the lucky ones, to run a home should they get married.

  Barbara was able to manage her numbers and had developed exquisite penmanship, but it was her needlework which was outstanding. She loved hats and dresses and contemplated becoming a dressmaker's assistant when she got a little older. But then she would look over at Emily and shake her head, not knowing how she could leave her sister on her own.

  ~~~

  It was almost six months later that it became obvious that Emily was pregnant. Despite the Sisters’ care, she was still frail and non-responsive to questioning, not even capable of simple conversation. She did as she was told and could feed and care for herself on the most basic level, but it was only the shell of a girl who was there. Her soul seemed to have been sucked away from her.

  CHAPTER 4 – Alice

  Their mother only came by once. She was bleary-eyed, and reeked of gin, but she’d made her way to the Sisters of Mercy, and in their mercy she was allowed to sit in the parlor with Sister Benedicta while Sister Evangeline, waiting in her office, had Barbara sent for.

  Barbara arrived, a waddling Emily in tow, and agreed to see her mother.

  “She needs to see what that pig of a husband did to her daughter,” said Barbara, bitterly.

  Sister regarded her thoughtfully.

  “It is a hard thing you are doing, confronting the person whom you blame for not protecting you as a mother should have. I am not sure I would be able to forgive her myself, were I in your shoes.”

  Sister paused before continuing.

  “She punishes herself every day, you know. She, too, suffers.

  “But you are also punishing yourself, and your bitterness hurts you, not her. She has made of her life her own private hell. It pains me to see you suffer as well, blaming yourself for what happened. I can understand you may not ever be able to let go of the feeling of abandonment your mother’s actions and inactions have caused you.

  “However, you must learn to forgive yourself. Nothing you did, or
believe you didn’t do, can be held against you. No one but you believes you to be responsible for what happened. But even if you had been, God would have forgiven you if you asked sincerely.”

  Sister Evangeline sighed, seeing the tightly closed facing looking stonily ahead. Barbara was an excellent student, a great help with the other girls, and an absolute angel with her sister, but was as locked within her sister’s tragedy as was Emily herself.

  “God forgives you and I forgive you, child, for your thoughts towards your mother. I pray for God’s Mercy to open your heart again and let you heal. Come here for a blessing.”

  Barbara stepped forward, leading her sister, and each received her blessing, before filing out and joining Sister Benedicta and their mother in the parlor.

  Alice looked up when the girls walked into the room. Her face made a silent wail and she stuffed her fist into her mouth and bit down to keep from screaming out loud.

  “I didn’t know! They never told me he’d hurt her! No one would talk to me and the judge just had me locked away. All I knew was Owen was dead and you were here with the Sisters.”

  “But you had to find Dutch courage to come see us?” spat Barbara, aware of the stench of gin emanating from her mother.

  Alice turned her face in shame. “Yes,” she mumbled. “I haven’t been a good mother to you of late. She turned her ravaged face back toward Barbara, pleading.

  “But you must know I love you girls. You are the best of your father and when he was taken from us it was so hard! I tried to provide for you by marrying Owen, and you know he was good to you at first.”

  Barbara gave her mother a considering look, and allowed herself to look backward. He’d never been a true father to them, but at first he had tried. And then he’d lost his job to the boys returning from the war, and had become bitter. It was then, when he started drinking, that things had become bad.

  “But why did you have to drink with him?” she cried softly.