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  Mail Order Celeste

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 25)

  By

  Elissa Strati

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  MAIL ORDER CELESTE

  COPYRIGHT

  EDITION LICENSE NOTES

  DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER 1 – Celeste

  Welcome to Green River

  Polecat

  Samantha

  I Need a Job

  Call Me Chip

  CHAPTER 2 – Miranda

  Where Is Everyone?

  Safety

  Secrets

  The Stepmother

  Making Plans

  The Letter

  CHAPTER 3 – Chip

  Get Me to the Church

  Voices of Reason

  Mrs. Richardson

  CHAPTER 4 – Sylvester

  Explanations

  Counseling the Bride

  Sylvester’s Story

  Celeste’s Turn

  Realignment

  CHAPTER 5 – William

  War

  Destitute

  The Krause Gang

  Harriet Proposes

  A Wedding

  The Green Room

  CHAPTER 6 – Harriet

  Removal

  Ground Rules

  Frustrations

  Open Door

  Flight

  Philadelphia

  CHAPTER 7 – Traveling West

  Sunny

  Harry

  Arrival

  Seeing the Town

  The Name Game

  More Counseling

  CHAPTER 8 – Green River

  Cards on the Table

  Green River Church

  Accommodations

  Revelations

  Arrangements

  CHAPTER 9 – End of a Chapter

  Captured

  William Makes Plans

  Apologies to Celeste from Henry

  Apologies from the Secret Service

  The Hardwick Brothers

  CHAPTER 10 – Wedding Plans

  Details

  The Flanagans

  More Guests

  EPILOGUE

  PLEASE POST A REVIEW

  ABOUT THIS SERIES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  DEDICATION

  For my husband

  Alfred X. Strati

  Who has stalwartly proofread and offered suggestions in a genre of which he had doubts,

  And has become one of my best fans on paper as well as in real life;

  My own, personal HEA (Happily Ever After)!

  MAIL ORDER CELESTE

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 25)

  By

  Elissa Strati

  COPYRIGHT

  Mail Order Celeste

  Copyright © 2020 by Elissa Strati.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely 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 are 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; cover artist, Virginia McKevitt.

  ~~~

  Series concept by Cheryl Wright.

  DESCRIPTION

  When Celeste’s husband dies under mysterious circumstances, she and her infant daughter are forced to move back to her father’s home. But his new wife wants the house cleared of children and grandchildren.

  Her sister, Miranda, has been looking after their father following a long stint of caring for their dying mother. Suddenly she, too, is no longer welcome in the family home, so she answers an advertisement for a mail-order bride, but asks for her sister’s help with the letters.

  As the situation at home becomes dire, both sisters make their plans for escape. Will they find what they seek out West with strangers? And will their father find the missing gold?

  CHAPTER 1 – Celeste

  Welcome to Green River

  Celeste watched and listened in astonishment as the cowboy cursed his horse, which was bucking, even though attached to a surrey. She wasn't sure what had caused the reaction, as she hadn't glanced that way until she heard the commotion. Then she looked closely at the cowboy and realized he seemed to fit the description in his letters.

  Strolling over, she watched him wrangle the animal to a standstill. By the time he had it tied up to the hitching rail, she’d reached the edge of the platform and called over to him, “Mr. Hardwick, you are cursing.”

  He turned around to look at her and realized this must be the woman he had come to pick up.

  “I am a man, Miss Belden, and men curse.”

  “From your letters, however, I thought you were a gentleman,” she responded with a slight curtsey and an arched eyebrow.

  He scratched his chin, pleased to notice it was still smooth from his shave. He had made a point to spruce up to impress his new bride, and here he was making a bad first impression. Of course he was late, thanks to this bag of bones cayuse. A more contrary beast he had never had the misfortune to . . . Oh, well, time to come clean.

  “I didn't write those letters,” he admitted. “I had my brother do it. While he was swanning around back east at college, Pa had me running the sawmill, and I only got so far with my book learning. I knew I couldn't impress a lady with my writing, so I asked him to take over the chores. Besides it was his idea to write for a mail-order bride.”

  Celeste started to laugh. This wasn't the reception he'd expected to get from his confession. She dabbed her eyes with her gloved hand. He looked around uncomfortably, checking to see who else was witnessing his embarrassment. The only thing he saw on the platform besides Miss Belden was a trunk, a valise, and a baby buggy, all pushed together. He did a double-take at the baby buggy and looked back to the woman on the platform.

  “Are you not Miss Belden?” he asked.

  “Actually, no, that is my sister; I am Mrs. Clark.”

  Thoroughly confused now, he took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair before resettling the hat firmly upon his head.

  “So am I supposed to be picking you up, or what?”

  “Yes, you appear to be the man who was to meet me. But I'll be honest, too. I did, literally, write the letters, because I have, as you might recall if you actually read any of them, beautiful penmanship. My sister is the family intellect, but her handwriting is pure chicken scratch, so she had me rewrite her letters in my copperplate to send to, apparently, your brother. Were they at least your sentiments, or did he write the whole thing?”

  Charles Patrick “Chip” Hardwick hung his head.

  “I just turned the whole thing over to him,” he admitted. “But why was your sister writing?”

  “Well, she's actually the one who consented to correspond with you when our solicitor, Frederick Flanagan
, approached her, explaining a friend of his had a brother seeking a likely bride. For a number of reasons personal to herself, she agreed to receive your letters. I must add that our father has taken a new wife, a shrewish woman who wants both of us out of the house.” She said the last with a moue of distaste.

  Chip tipped his hat back and stared up at Celeste.

  “That sounds like the making of a fine story, Mrs. Clark,” he drawled, “but thanks to this cayuse, I was delayed picking you up and now we’re on the verge of being late for our wedding. Why don’t we put you in the buggy and head on over to the church and we can talk on the way over.”

  “But I’m not your intended bride!”

  He looked her up and down, then grinned.

  “You’ll do!”

  Polecat

  Climbing onto the platform he hefted the trunk up and strode back over to the buggy, placing it in the back and strapping it down. The shifting weight caused the horse to start bucking again, pulling on the reins wrapped onto the hitching post. Chip raced around to his head and hauled down, settling him again.

  Celeste had grabbed her bag and the baby buggy and brought them to the edge of the platform, but stopped short when the horse began to act up again, and stared at the equipage.

  “You know,” she called out thoughtfully, “I think I know why your gelding is giving you such a hard time. His harness is twisted and is pinching him.”

  Chip hung his head. “I thought it was just ‘cuz he's a saddle horse and never been to harness before.”

  “Well, that's as may be, but no one likes having his hair pulled and look at the way his mane is caught. Come over here and take care of the baby while I go check him out.”

  Her manner of delivery compelled him to do just as she had requested and before he knew it he had the handle of the carriage in his hand and was gently rocking it as he had been shown.

  She gave him a smile and it was as if he had frozen in place. Had there ever been any more beautiful smile? He blinked hard. Was this woman bewitching him?

  He watched as she went down the stairs and strolled back over to the carriage.

  “What’s his name?” she asked as she approached the horse with her hand flat for him to sniff.

  “Polecat,” came the laconic reply, “on account of that white blaze on his back.”

  Celeste could feel her eyebrows raising, but didn’t turn around.

  “So, Polecat, how did you manage to get yourself into this mess?” she crooned softly as she stroked his neck, sliding along until she had reached the harness strap that was entangled with the mane. She gently eased the hair free and re-buckled the strap properly. She couldn't figure out how he had managed to drive the horse at all with the harness tricked out that way. Glancing back quickly over at the cowboy—no, he wasn’t a cowboy, although he looked exactly as she imagined a cowboy should—Celeste mentally shook her head. What had she gotten herself into?

  ~~~

  Celeste’s husband had been killed when he stepped into the street in front of a coach and four. Eyewitness accounts were conflicted, some saying he had been pushed, others that he had jumped in front of the carriage deliberately. Learning about his financial status, Celeste rather feared the latter, “death before dishonor,” but in any event she found herself alone with an infant, and destitute, and had been forced to move back in with her father and sister.

  Her older sister, Miranda, had spent the last few years caring for their ailing mother who had recently died. She’d continued keeping house for their father but, feeling her spinsterhood looming strongly, had gotten desperate enough to respond to a request for a mail-order bride. Miranda had corresponded for some time before the gentleman had invited her to come west, enclosing a ticket in his last letter.

  Her father had pretty much cut off her pin money when she married and had not restored it when she returned home a widow. When he remarried so shockingly, Celeste had been as desperate as her sister to get away. But when she had seen her new stepmother threaten her child, Celeste had feared for both their safety. She had left a letter for her sister explaining why she had grabbed the ticket, knowing her sister had put aside some funds and would be able to follow.

  But Celeste had just wanted to get away, not steal her sister's fiancé. And now it turned out the fiancé wasn't even the man to whom her sister had been writing. What a joke!

  ~~~

  Returning to the platform, Celeste relieved Chip of the buggy handle.

  Samantha

  Samantha opened her eyes. Someone had been rocking her buggy but now it had stopped moving and the change had wakened her. Her mama was standing above her, talking with a man. That was one of the words she knew. Papa was a man. Gampa was a man. Men hugged her and played with her. She reached her hands upward, looking at the man, and called out, “Me, me!”

  Celeste looked down and laughed.

  “She wants you to pick her up!”

  Chip looked appalled and intrigued. He hadn’t had much to do with children since he’d been one himself.

  “Are you sure I can’t break her?”

  “Well I would certainly not be happy if you tried to drop her! But she weighs a great deal less than most of the items you usually pick up in a sawmill, like logs.”

  Gingerly he bent down and put his hands under the arms that were grasping at his leg. Tugging slightly to loosen her hold, he straightened up with the child in his hands. He stood there awkwardly, holding Samantha somewhat away from him.

  “I thought you said she wasn't too heavy?”

  “Anything is heavy if you hold it like that. Slide her over to your hip so you can put an arm around her and hold her one handed. Or you can bring her up to your chest and she'll put her arms around your neck.”

  Not sure how he was going to handle the logistics, Chip brought the baby towards his chest and was startled at the feel of legs wrapping around his waist and arms pulling at his neck. He moved one arm around the child and, feeling more secure, Samantha leaned back and looked him in the eye, then reached out and patted his cheek.

  Chip got a funny lump in his throat. He'd been the baby of his family so hadn't really spent much time around youngsters outside of the school room. And once his mother died, he didn't spend much time there either. He guessed he’d kind of grown up fast, trying to keep up with the other hands at the lumberyard. By the age of 14 he had pretty much become a man, at least in his own mind.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Samantha. My father is William Samuel Belden and he is tickled to have a granddaughter also named ‘Sam.’”

  Celeste found herself touched by the various expressions crossing the man’s face as he held her daughter securely.

  “I know I am not who you signed up for, Mr. Hardwick,” she said gently, “and I'm sure my sister will be here as soon as she returns home from her visit to our cousin and discovers her presence is desired. Then you will have the bride you were expecting.”

  She paused to consider her next words. “I have to admit I do not have any money. So it would do no good to take me to the hotel, unless they have jobs available. But I am a hard worker if you know someplace you think might be able to use my services. I have, in fact, come out here to find a job.”

  “No need for any of that. As my wife you will only have to look after me. And maybe help in the office at the mill.”

  “You are betrothed to my sister,” Celeste replied firmly.

  “Well, you just admitted you're the one who actually wrote the letters, so it seems to me it must be you to whom I am betrothed. Besides you are here and she is not, and I have the church booked for,” he pulled out a pocket watch, “now! So let me assist you into the carriage, and then I'll hand you the baby and put the buggy and your bag in the back with your trunk.”

  Glancing around, Celeste saw there was nothing else to do. The station was deserted and there was no one else around. So she complied.

  I Need a Job

  Now that the harness w
as no longer tugging his mane, Polecat seemed content to pull them along. Samantha, securely in her mother’s arms, looked around interest. Pointing ahead she turned to her mother and said “Horsey!” and clapped her hands in delight. Then, gurgling with laughter she looked to the side and again turned to her mother and chirped, “Man!”

  Celeste agreed with both statements and gave her daughter a small squeeze, kissing her on top of the head. Glancing over at them, Chip smiled at the charming duo. Their curls had the same tint of red in the sunlight and Samantha’s eyes had remained a startling blue, much lighter than her mother's dark hazel. Chip was surprised he'd even noticed, as he didn't consider himself terribly observant, even of good-looking females.

  But, Heavens, he thought to himself, I'm going to marry this one. I’ll spend the rest of my life with her. The thought was sobering, but not as overwhelming as it had been when he’d set out for the station. He glanced over to his side again.

  This time Celeste caught his gaze and asked, “What? What is it you want to know?”

  “Frankly,” he replied, “how such a beautiful woman as yourself with such a charming child has ended up here in Green River seeking matrimony with a stranger.”

  “Well, I wasn't!” she said. “I was merely escaping an impossible situation. I won't go into the details, but my husband was killed in a carriage accident. He had made some bad investments so the bank took away our house and I was forced to return to my family home.

  “My mother died recently so ours was a house in mourning, at least for my sister and me. But my father took it into his head to marry his mistress and bring her to live with us. She may have her good points, but loving children is not one of them, and she viciously attacked my daughter. I feared for her life and safety, and so got away as quickly as I could, taking advantage of your train ticket to escape.

  “Unlike me, my sister has been able to tuck a few dollars aside over the years, and will, with any luck, follow in a day or two. She was quite anxious to meet and marry the man in the letters. I think she is half in love with him. “And,” she ended with a sigh, “I did not write her letters for her. I merely copied them out so they would look nice.”