Almost a Bride (The Bride Ships Book 4) Read online

  Almost a Bride

  Published by Northern Lights Press

  © 2020 by Jody Hedlund

  www.jodyhedlund.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 9781733753449

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible in the Public Domain.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Roseanna White Designs

  Books by Jody Hedlund

  The Preacher’s Bride

  The Doctor’s Lady

  Unending Devotion

  A Noble Groom

  Rebellious Heart

  Captured by Love

  BEACONS OF HOPE

  Out of the Storm: A BEACONS OF HOPE Novella

  Love Unexpected

  Hearts Made Whole

  Undaunted Hope

  Forever Safe

  Never Forget

  ORPHAN TRAIN

  An Awakened Heart: An ORPHAN TRAIN Novella

  With You Always

  Together Forever

  Searching for You

  THE BRIDE SHIPS

  A Reluctant Bride

  The Runaway Bride

  A Bride of Convenience

  Almost a Bride

  Contents

  Scripture

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  About the Author

  The Bride Ships from Jody Hedlund

  SCRIPTURE

  That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.

  1 Peter 1:7

  ONE

  Cariboo, British Columbia

  August 1863

  “HELLO, BEAUTIFUL. WILL you marry me?”

  Kate Millington stumbled on the boardwalk in an attempt to avoid plowing into the man who’d maneuvered directly into her path.

  “Whoa, now!” He grasped her upper arm and steadied her.

  At the evening hour, the raised sidewalks of the mountain town of Williamsville were teeming with all manner of men. Having just arrived with a pack train, Kate was eager to explore, in spite of the busyness, and had convinced Becca to accompany her down the narrow main thoroughfare.

  The tightly confined buildings constructed from hewn logs were squat, unpainted, and nearly identical except for simple signs protruding above doorways announcing the establishments: Bibby’s Tin Shop, McPherson Brewery, Kelly Saloon, Lee Chung Laundry, and more.

  Tucked at the foot of the Cariboo Range, the town was hemmed by a hill of ponderosa and Douglas pine on the eastern side and bordered by Williams Creek on the west. Framed by the sky’s ever-changing shades of blue and violet, the mountain peaks towered above everything, and Kate’s fingers itched for her paintbrushes and watercolors.

  But along with all her other worldly goods, her art supplies were packed in her bags still secured on the back of a mule. Nevertheless, she’d been giving herself over to her imagination, cataloging every detail of the town and recording every nuance of the surroundings so she could recreate the scene later.

  The proposition of marriage jarred her back to reality . . .

  With the grip tightening around her arm, she forced her attention to the man blocking her way, noting he was as burly and shaggy as the moose she’d spotted when their caravan had camped last evening.

  “You’d make me a very happy man if you’d agree to marry me.” His expression was hopeful—at least what she could see of it beneath his facial hair.

  Of course she had to reject his offer. Yet at the same time, she searched for kind words that wouldn’t cause him undue pain. “Your offer is very sweet . . .”

  Becca slapped the man’s arm, apparently feeling no need for any kindness whatsoever. “Get your hands off the woman!” As if the slap wasn’t scary enough, Becca’s furrowed brow, flattened lips, and flaring nostrils had the power to intimidate the stoutest of hearts.

  Eyes widening at the sight of Becca, the moose released Kate and took a step back. Though Becca’s hazel skin was as warm as a summer woodland, her girth was broad and big-boned, and her expression as inviting as that of a mother bear protecting her cub.

  “Miss Kate already got herself a man,” Becca stated in a tone loud enough to stop those who hadn’t already halted to stare at Kate.

  Once upon a time, Kate would have been mortified by all the attention. But after living for over six months in Victoria, where the male population outnumbered females ten to one, she’d grown accustomed to men staring at her with unabashed admiration.

  Even so, she self-consciously tucked a flyaway strand of her blond hair behind her ear and brushed at her dusty skirt, the once-blue calico now almost gray.

  “Go on with you.” Becca took hold of Kate’s arm and propelled her around the moose, coming to Kate’s rescue, as she had since the start of their journey out of Victoria weeks ago. “We got to find your Mr. Frank before nightfall.”

  “Mr. Frank, as in Herbert Frank?” the moose asked.

  “Mm-hmm.” Becca leveled a stern look at the man. “You know where he at?”

  The moose glanced in the direction of Kelly Saloon. “Is she the bride Herb’s been yapping about nonstop?”

  “She the one.” Becca picked up her pace, dragging Kate along.

  “Heyday for Herb.” The moose whistled under his breath. “Lucky dog.”

  Kate tripped after her friend, unable to make her feet cooperate. And her heartbeat turned sluggish, as if protesting the forward momentum.

  “Wait, Becca.” Kate found her voice. “Perhaps I ought to change my attire first. Or, at the very least, wash up.”

  “You pretty enough just the way you is.”

  Their footsteps against the planks made a sharp thunking, drawing even more attention. At a foot or more above the street, the sidewalks were like a stage, raising her and highlighting her for all the men to see. For Herbert Frank to see. Herbert Frank who was waiting and planning for her arrival. Herbert Frank who would likely marry her this night—if a reverend could be found.

  Raw panic burst through Kate, and she glanced frantically for a place to hide.

  The sign above the nearest place of business read Hart General Store. Jerking away from Becca, she veered toward the open doorway and the overflowing shelves inside.

  “Where you going now?” The exasperation in Becca’s voice trailed after Kate.

  She didn’t know how to answer the dear woman. How could she explain this strange moment of dread to Becca when she didn’t know how to explain it to herself? “My, um, tooth powder. Aye, my tooth powder canister is near to empty, and I need to purchase more—�
�

  “Miss Millington?” came a call from the direction of the saloon.

  With one foot inside the store, Kate froze. The deep baritone with a Cornish accent belonged to none other than Herbert Frank.

  Another wave of panic crashed through her. She closed her eyes and fought against it, drawing in first one deep breath, then another.

  “Katherine Millington?” Herbert called again. “Is that you?”

  As much as she wanted to disappear behind the wares stacked floor to ceiling, Kate forced her feet to remain where they were. She silently counted to five. She could do this. After all, this was why she’d left Manchester last fall and sailed halfway across the world on the Robert Lowe bride ship. She’d come to find a husband and get married.

  She’d lived in the Marine Barracks in Victoria at the government complex for the first couple of months after arriving and had agreed to marry James McCrea, a local hotel owner. When her plans with Mr. McCrea had fallen through, she’d gone to work as a domestic. During that time, she’d continued to entertain suitors through the spring until she met Herbert Frank.

  Over the several weeks they’d courted, she liked that he was handsome and church-going and kind. He made her smile and had promised they’d be happy together in Williamsville. With his claim pulling out a decent profit in gold, he’d needed to return there by the time the spring thaw opened the way through the Fraser Canyon for travel. Before he left, he’d wrested a promise of marriage and arranged for her to travel to the small mining town where he said he’d be waiting for her.

  “Miss Millington.” His tone turned urgent. “It’s me. Herbert Frank.”

  Even if she wasn’t ready to face him, she couldn’t simply walk away and ignore him. He was a decent fellow—a good listener, fun-loving, and doting. He’d even paid every shilling of her travel arrangements, so she’d be safe and well fed during the arduous trek up into the mining district.

  Why, then, was she having the misgivings?

  With another deep breath, she slowly pivoted.

  Becca stood less than a foot away, her hands fisted on her ample hips, her keen eyes rounded beneath raised brows. “What you doing, Miss Kate? I thought you ready to marry your man.”

  “And I am. I’m just a little nervous. That’s all.”

  “You said he a good man. You ain’t been lying to me now, have you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then quit your dallying and go greet him proper-like.”

  Kate squared her shoulders. “You’re right, Becca. I’ll go greet him this very moment.” Then before she could find another excuse, Kate skirted her friend and made her feet march directly toward Herbert. When she reached the edge of the plank walkway, Herbert was there, peering up at her.

  “Miss Millington, I’m delighted to see you.” An enormous smile lit his face—a face that wasn’t quite as handsome as she remembered. Had it been so narrow in Victoria? Had his ears been so big? And what about his nose? Had it been that long?

  She was just being flighty. He was the same. Same brown hair, same trim mustache, same thin brows.

  “Mr. Frank.” She wasn’t delighted to see him in return. But she couldn’t very well say so and instead scrambled to find a polite response. “I’m delighted to finally arrive in Williamsville. The town is—” She surveyed the main street again, this time seeing the mud, the shanties at the far end, the canvas tents beyond, a hillside of stumps, and the piles of crumbled rocks. “It’s quite interesting.”

  Interesting? The moment the word was out, she wanted to palm her forehead. She’d always been better at expressing herself in sketches and paintings than in words.

  Herbert studied her as though she were a famous masterpiece on display. “You’re as lovely as always.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Frank.” Herbert’s examination felt too bold, and she moved to descend.

  “Allow me.” Herbert held out a hand to assist her from the boardwalk.

  She hesitated before accepting his proffer. Once she was on the ground, his grip tightened, and she realized he had no intention of letting go.

  “How was your trip here?” he asked. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult?”

  “Oh no. I liked it.” Liked? That wasn’t exactly the right word. Traveling through the canyon on narrow paths had been harrowing. Hiking over the rocky terrain had been tiring. The dirt and dust had been endless. She was gritty, sore, and weary. Even so, the sights she’d seen, the creatures she drew, the vistas she viewed—everything had been more beautiful and glorious than she could explain.

  “Then you had no troubles?”

  “Nothing to speak of.” Their camp had flooded one night. They never had enough food. A mule slipped and fell down a ravine. Natives threatened when they’d drawn too close. And several travelers had become ill. How could she explain all that here, now?

  Every man on the street was still staring at her. Those within businesses were peering out windows and doorways. Nevertheless, the attention from everyone else felt less daunting, less uncomfortable, less threatening than Herbert’s. His presence in front of her was overpowering.

  With a wiggle, she attempted to extricate her hand, but his grasp remained unyielding.

  The same panic from a moment ago surged through her, and she quickly fought it away by distracting herself. “I did meet a wonderful friend during my traveling.”

  “A friend?” His voice was skeptical.

  “Aye. Her name is Becca.” Waving toward her friend, Kate tried to nonchalantly break free from Herbert.

  His hold didn’t slacken.

  From her position on the sidewalk, Becca was watching the interaction, more creases appearing in her forehead with each passing moment.

  “Rebecca St. Germaine,” Kate continued. “She was living in Victoria with her brother and his family. Now she’s moving here to do washing”—Kate located the sign down the street—“at Lee Chung Laundry.”

  Herbert nodded at Becca. “Ma’am.”

  Becca’s response was to lift her nose and peer down it haughtily.

  “She was heaven-sent.” Kate smiled at her friend. Even though Becca had been the only other female in the group and was slightly older than Kate’s eighteen years, they’d easily bonded. “I don’t think I could have made this trip without her.”

  Again, Herbert nodded at Becca. “Thanks for taking care of Miss Millington.”

  Becca sniffed. “I ain’t nobody’s servant. I sure enough didn’t leave bondage behind only to end up enslaved again.”

  “Of course not,” Kate said. “You’re free here. We’re all free here.” She’d had plenty of conversations with Becca during the trip, enough to know she had run away from slavery, traveled to California, and from there made her way to Vancouver Island with the hope she’d be safe from anyone intending to make a gain in returning her to her master.

  Kate’s smile faltered. Why, with each passing moment, did she feel as though she was about to lose her freedom?

  “I bet you’re hungry.” Herbert tugged her closer.

  The tug was innocent enough. He was only excited about being with her again after the months of separation. Yet the pressure only seemed to open the gate for the emotions that had been gaining momentum, and now they spilled out in a flood she didn’t understand.

  All she knew was that she didn’t want to go with Herbert. “I’m sorry, Mr. Frank.” This time she yanked hard enough to free her hand and take several steps backward. “I’m really sorry.”

  Confusion rippled across his features.

  As he opened his mouth to question her, she blurted her answer. “I’m sorry. But I cannot marry you.”

  TWO

  ZEKE HART COULDN’T tear his attention from the unfolding drama happening outside the store between Herb Frank and his newly arrived bride-to-be, one of the bride-ship women who’d come over on the Robert Lowe from Manchester, England. Herbert Frank had been lucky enough to be in Victoria when the ship arrived, and he’d also been lu
cky enough to win the hand of one of the brides.

  Stop staring and get a grip, Hart. He hadn’t been able to focus on the mining board meeting since the second he noticed the young woman walking through town. At least, Putnam and Blake hadn’t been able to focus either. They’d been gawking, just as speechless as he was, their cigars and whiskey forgotten, their scrawled meeting notes abandoned. Middle-aged and with families they’d left behind to chase after gold, the two fellow mining bosses were each old enough to be his father, but certainly not immune to the charms of a new pretty face in town.

  “I cannot marry you.” The young woman’s words carried inside as if she’d been standing next to them. When she spun and stalked toward the store entry, Zeke pushed away from the table, just as he had the first time she’d almost entered.

  His chair scraped against the rough-hewn planks, but he held himself in his seat, not wanting to appear too eager. After all, the meeting wasn’t over, and his assistant could handle the woman.

  Zeke glanced at the counter where Wendell was bent over a ledger. With spectacles perched on the end of his nose, the young man’s lips moved rapidly as he silently calculated the column of numbers, oblivious to the scene unfolding just outside the store.

  Truth be told, Wendell was almost always oblivious to his surroundings, especially when he had a page of numbers in front of him. And not for the first time, Zeke decided he needed to hire someone else to run the store and free Wendell to focus on the accounting.

  The woman’s hurried footsteps drew nearer, and Zeke’s muscles tensed. Would she enter this time?

  “Miss Millington, wait!” Herb hopped up onto the boardwalk, his face rigid with anxiety.

  Millington. The name was familiar. In fact, the woman herself looked familiar. Zeke dredged the far reaches of his mind. Where had he seen her? Why did he have the feeling he ought to know who she was? No doubt she was someone he’d met back home in Manchester before he ran away. Perhaps he had a dalliance with her during his last days there, when he’d been at his worst with his carousing, when he hadn’t thought twice about charming a woman into his arms, only to leave her brokenhearted.