Cinders' Bride: Mail Order Brides of Texas by Ball Kathleen

Author:Ball, Kathleen [Ball, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-02T07:00:00+00:00

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Tears trailed down her face as she put her nightgown on. She’d have a new one made by tomorrow. The bottle of salve on the little table beside the bed mocked her. She might as well put some on since she didn’t need to smell nice for her husband. Why had he bothered to kiss her? It only made the hurt worse.

Her eyes stung at the smell of Cookie’s concoction, but she put it on her face. Was she supposed to be relieved Cinders didn’t want to bed her? There was little privacy in the tenements and she’d heard plenty of screams of pain at night. Perhaps he was protecting her but her mother told her that with the right man it could be a joyful experience.

She climbed into bed and leaned over to blow the oil lamp out. A strange emptiness filled her and refused leave. She lay on her side with her back to the door, listening to Cinders undress and slip into bed. He lay with his back to her and it spoke loudly of his intentions.

He lightly snored while she wiped the tears from her eyes. She should be grateful, very grateful, and in many aspects, she was. There was a part of her that wished things were different with Cinders. She touched her lips, reliving his kiss, and a part of her heart shriveled. It might be the only kiss she’d ever get.

Seeing a lawyer was a good idea. She’d be safe from the John Hardys of the world. Maybe she shouldn’t wish for more but she couldn’t help her heart from aching. The mail order bride had been a crazy notion but she ended up landing on her feet. She ached for Cinders too. Maybe he liked Polly more than he'd let on. Or what if he found someone else he could stand to consummate a marriage with? Her first order of business before they drove to town was to learn how to shoot. She didn’t cotton to the idea of traveling without such knowledge. This place was truly turning out to be the Wild West.

In the still of darkness, she awoke and listened to the crickets chirping. She instantly touched her wound. It would be hers to bear every day so she might as well get used to it. As silently as she could, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen intent on making a pot of coffee and watching the sunrise. The ability to see the horizon all around them awed her. Today she would walk with a peaceful heart.

The iron stove gave her fits as though it had a personality of its own. One day it would be cheerful and readily light and other days it was so stubborn. Unfortunately this was a stubborn day. It took some doing but it finally lit, and she put the water and coffee on the hot stove.

The sun began to make its appearance so she made her way outside and sat on the front steps.

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