Freedom For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 2) (13 page)

“I had naw seen it that way before. Thank you,” she muttered humbly, but Moira grabbed her hands and held them tightly.

“No, thank
you
, Gretchen. Thank you for years of dedication and service, but more than that, thank you forevermore for being my friend. It may have been an odd, unbalanced system of rich and poor that put us in each other’s lives, but the day your foot left Ireland because I asked you to come with me is the day you stopped being a servant. You and I were practically fugitives, and no mistress has the right to thrust a maid into the role of a runaway. I am heartily sorry if I’ve ne’er spoken up before, but you are my friend and only my friend! And that’s why I’m throwing your wedding, too!”

They both wiped at their tears through their laughter, causing such a stir that Pryor came around the side of the barn to see what had the chickens so agitated. He called out to see if everything was all right and blanched when Moira shouted, “I was right! Gretchen’s to be married, and we’re to help her celebrate!”

They giggled as his shoulders drooped and his head dropped to his chest, then screamed with laughter when he fell back against the side of the barn, seemingly in a faint from the news. He recovered himself and came to them, offering his congratulations to Gretchen and words of admiration for her horse.

Their wedding day dawned crisp and cool, but anyone with an eye for reading the weather could tell it would be gloriously warm by mid-morning. Gretchen and Katia awoke early to complete the chores at the small cabin, fixing breakfast and laughing merrily as they worked and dressed. Once the family was roused and dressed, Moira arrived to help them do up their hair and arrange their bouquets of flowers while Pryor and Matthew lingered outdoors in the shade, away from the womenfolk. Finally, both Kieran and Nathaniel arrived as if on cue, and the whole party began the loud, boisterous trek into New Hope for the ceremony.

Once both couples had signed their contracts and stated their vows, the true party began. Kieran had previously seen to the security of the town, and New Hope was a much more subdued place. There was still merriment and even a tavern, but the whole atmosphere was one of enjoyable recreation rather than lawless ruckus.

Tables were set up, made from doors removed from their hinges only that morning and laid across logs down the wide dirt main road through town. The makeshift tables were soon covered to capacity with the townsfolks’ finest recipes, and the musicians from the tavern set up in the shade offered by Jorgenson’s porch. Small plumes of dust were kicked up beneath dozens of pairs of dancing feet as the musicians played different styles from every immigrant region that had converged on New Hope.

“I know what you’ve done here,” Pryor whispered in Moira’s ear as they danced.

“And what is that, Mr. MacAteer?” she asked coyly.

“This party… it should have been for you on your own wedding day. I’m glad you finally have a celebration to attend since ours was such a small affair.” He looked somewhat forlorn, in a wistful kind of way.

“Pry, our wedding was perfect. I had my dearest and oldest friend there, and my brother had made the journey. But most importantly, I had you there. That ‘twere all I needed to make my wedding perfect. All of this?” she said, gesturing around the town and taking in the smiling faces of the townspeople. “All of this is wonderful, but it certainly doesn’t make a wedding—or a marriage, for that matter—perfect.”

Pryor kissed her, eliciting loud cheers from those dancing with their partners nearby. They laughed, and Moira caught the eyes of her friends both new and old. Katia and Gretchen were absolutely radiant where they danced with their husbands, and Moira’s heart swelled with joy for their happiness.

“So now we must change the sign,” she said, turning back to her husband. Pryor looked puzzled until she explained, “New Hope… the population. It’s growing by leaps and bounds, I say!”

He laughed but froze when he looked over her shoulder and saw the strangest sight. There beside the railroad tracks, almost as though using it as his guide, a lone man walked carrying a well-worn and patched bundle on his back. He favored one leg as he limped and looked all the worse for the wear of a long journey. Slowly, the townspeople turned one by one to see what everyone was staring at, and the crowd grew both silent and suspicious.

Before anyone could react, a cry went up from a woman on the edge of the crowd. All eyes turned to see the old woman, Katia’s mother, crying and pointing at the stranger. Katia faced her mother with fearful concern, but when she turned to look at the man her mother pointed to, recognition coursed through her. She cried out as well and broke into a run, hitching the lace of her skirts high to let her feet go free.

“Papa! Papa!” she screamed into the wind, aching as the air carried her voice away. The man didn’t look up. “Papa!”

Finally, she drew close enough for the man to hear her shouts. He looked at her without any sign of recognition until she stood immediately before him, his face blurred by the tears in her eyes. He lifted his hand toward her, shaking so badly as he moved that his fingertips tapped against her face before she could press his palm to her cheek, kissing it as she did.

“Katoushka? Are you really here? You are not a ghost, or only a wish?” he asked, the words coming out as a whisper through his cracked lips.

“No, Papa, I am really here! And you are here! You’re alive!” she said through her quiet sobs. “I thought we would never see you again!”

“I… I walked… all this way. I told you I would come for you.”

“Yes, Papa, you did! It is too good to be true!” As she answered, her mother and sisters reached him, all three crowded around him and clutching at his coat.

“What do you figure that’s about?” Nathaniel asked Pryor, coming up close beside him to ask discreetly. Pryor took a long look at the group who stood crying beside the tracks and smiled.

“I think we have more rooms to add to your cabin!” he replied, clapping his friend on the back. “It looks like you’ve got a father-in-law, too!”

Nathaniel turned white and whirled to face Pryor, a look of outright panic on his face. His expression quickly turned to elation, though, when he realized that the final missing piece of his sweet wife’s puzzle was finally in place.

“Well, aren’t you gonna go say hello? It’s only considered polite to introduce yourself after you marry a man’s daughter, you know,” Pryor teased. “Come on, we’ll walk up there together.” He held out his hand for Moira to join him, and Gretchen and Kieran turned from their conversation at the sight of their passing and followed suit. By the time they reached the cluster of people speaking rapidly in Russian, the tears had given way to cries of joy and thanksgiving.

“Yell! It is good! It is my Papa!” Katia explained as best she could. She turned and made the introductions, giving her father the briefest of explanations for the sight of the tall, pale man with his hand linked in hers. Her father looked Nathaniel up and down silently, long enough for the rest of the family and onlookers to fidget nervously, then smiled a gap-toothed smile and pulled Nathaniel into his thin, wiry arms.

“Welcome, my son!” he announced shakily, to everyone’s delight. Katia beamed at her father and then at Nathaniel, then took little Nikolai from her sister and kissed him, passing him to her father for approval. The old man took the child, hefted him appraisingly, then looked from Katia to Nathaniel. He eyed the child suspiciously, looking Katia’s wedding dress up and down for an explanation.

Katia laughed, then told her father about the boy. The old man’s eyes shed fresh tears when he realized he was holding the grandson of his oldest, greatest friend.

“Papa, come! We must celebrate. Now it is not only a wedding we bless, but your safe return to us!” she cried. Pryor and Nathaniel each took one of the old man’s arms and helped him the rest of the way to the town square, where someone brought him a chair and a plate piled with food. Nathaniel brought another chair over and helped his mother-in-law into it, earning her eternal esteem. Katia handed Nikolai back to her mother and stepped back, the sight of her parents seated together and holding her son warming her heart in a way that not much else could.

“My family, Yell! It is my family!” she said happily, turning to face Nathaniel. “It is all my family!”

“I understand, Katia. And it’s wonderful!”

THE END

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©
2015 by
Amelia Rose

All Rights Reserved.   No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

First Printing, 2015