Amelia Changes her Fellow Read online

  Amelia Changes her Fellow

  Mismatch Mail-order Bride Series, Book 2

  Copyright © 2019 by Linda K. Hubalek

  Published by Butterfield Books Inc.

  Printed Book ISBN—978-1095923061

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019905227

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and buy your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Except for the history of Kansas mentioned in the book, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A sweet historical romance set in 1892.

  It’s 1892, almost twenty years after the first mail-order brides found love in Clear Creek, Kansas in the Brides with Grit Series.

  The older members of the Clear Creek church women’s group, informally known as the Peashooter Society, decide to help the unattached women in town obtain husbands because there are more women in town than men.

  Amelia Shepard, the baby in the Brides with Grit series book, Darcie Desires a Drover, is now grown up and working in her family's leather business. She’s proficient at everything from repairing shoes to building saddles.

  The Peashooter Society decides Amelia needs a husband to complete her life, even if she’s happy with her friends and work. Amelia wants a loving marriage like her parents enjoy, and she won’t settle for just any man pushed onto her.

  Barton Miller has watched over his two younger brothers and their three friends since they left New York City on an orphan train when he was ten years old. Now mustered out of the army, the group gets the chance to live and work together in a small community, thanks to the plan of the Peashooter Society.

  Barton likes Amelia Shepard, but the ladies have matched him with a different woman. He works at his new job at the blacksmith shop, trying to keep everyone happy, but the spunky Amelia keeps wandering into his thoughts.

  Then things happen when Amelia decides to change the man picked out for her, for Barton instead.

  A little problem? Maybe. A little fun? Definitely!

  Chapter 1

  Fall 1892

  Clear Creek, Kansas

  Barton Miller marched purposefully down the downtown boardwalk toward their destination, the parsonage, where their fate rested in the hands of Mrs. Kaitlyn Reagan, the minister’s wife.

  He glanced at his brother Gordon, matching his own steps, and then back at his youngest brother, Squires. All three of them matched each other with their deep-tanned skin, brown hair, brown eyes, and six-foot height. Only their personalities set them apart.

  Their three childhood friends followed them. Wesley Preston, with light blonde hair, Peter Gehring, with coal black hair, and Toad Billings, with flaming red hair.

  Tobin! Not Toad. Barton chided himself for the umpteenth time. Everyone used Tobin’s nickname for years, and it was hard to remember to use his real name on this critical mission.

  Barton promised the others they would always stick together when they left New York on the orphan train. Even though Barton was only ten years old at the time, it helped his brothers, and the other three boys in their section, to face the uncertainty of their lives.

  Through his insistence, they managed to all end up in the same farming community in Shawnee County, Kansas, even if they lived in different households. Attending the same school and church kept them connected through their youth.

  When Squires and Peter turned eighteen, they all signed up together for a five-year commitment at nearby Fort Riley to learn new skills.

  And now, even as adults, the six vowed to stay together, thus the reason they were in Clear Creek, Kansas.

  “I sure hope this Mrs. Reagan is nice. I didn’t care for her son,” Toad, no, Tobin, piped up from the back of the line. Tobin had always been short and pudgy—hence his nickname—and talkative. Half the time Barton tuned out Tobin’s conversation, but he couldn’t this time.

  “Tobin, please keep your voice down and your opinions to yourself. All our livelihoods are on the line with our first impression,” Barton quietly reminded Tobin as he walked backward a second.

  Which was a stupid comment, because he was the one who stumbled into a young woman as she stepped out of a storefront.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss,” Barton exclaimed as he caught her by the elbows, so she didn’t fall backward. His eyes were drawn to her carrot-colored hair before he looked into her shocked light blue eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Gordon asked when Barton couldn’t use his vocal cords to speak. What was wrong with him?

  “Yes, thank you. I wasn’t watching where I was going, either,” the woman added a subtle jab at Barton’s misstep.

  She had on a scratched, thin leather work apron much like a shoe repairman might wear. Barton wondered what she did for a living, then realized she probably helped at her husband’s business.

  “My apologies, Ma’am,” Barton said, with a touch to the brim of his hat with his right hand as he picked up his carpet bag he’d dropped to catch the woman. All his worldly possessions fit in the simple bag, and he couldn’t lose it.

  She nodded with a smile, then continued across the boardwalk, looking both ways before crossing the street.

  “I wonder if she’s one of our brides,” Tobin sighed as all six of them stood still, watching her until she ducked into the door of the dress shop.

  “Come on, keep walking,” Barton commanded, but he glanced again at the shop she’d disappeared into. Barton wouldn’t mind if she was one of the available women. He’d like to see her again.

  At the end of the block, they angled across the street to arrive at the wooden house between the school and the church. All three buildings were painted white and in good shape, as was the part of town they’d seen so far.

  When they arrived at the parsonage, Barton stepped up on the porch and knocked on the front door. He looked back to see the other five were standing in a straight line as if they were waiting for a general’s inspection, which might not be that far from the truth.

  “Yes, may I help you?” a woman with faded red hair asked as she opened the door. She was in her fifties and looked congenial.

  Barton took a second to fill his lungs with air and confidence.

  “Are you Mrs. Kaitlyn Reagan, Ma’am?” Barton asked, as he took his hat off and slightly bowed to her.

  He noticed her eyes looked at him first, then the men behind him.

  “Yes, and you are?” the woman waited for an introduction.

  “I’m Barton Miller, and these are my brothers, Gordon and Squires.” Barton waited as each took a turn stepping up and back. “And these are our friends, Peter Gehring, Wesley Preston, and Tobin Billings.”

  “Did you come to visit with my husband, Pastor Reagan?”

  “No, Ma’am. We’re here to talk to you about the advertisement you sent to the Kansas City Star. Your son, the depot agent, told us where to find you.”

  The woman’s face paled, and her eyes widened at his words. Then she looked back into the house and quietly closed the door behind her back.

  “Men interested were supposed to write to me, not show up in town,” Mrs. Reagan regained her composure.

  “But your advertisement sai
d you wanted six men, and we wanted to be the first ones here,” Tobin said behind Barton.

  “Why?” Mrs. Reagan asked before Barton could think what to say.

  “We’ve been together since we got on the orphan train in New York, Ma’am. The idea of living together in a wonderful community…” Tobin trailed off and lowered his head.

  Barton wanted to smack his head with his hand in frustration at Tobin’s confession, but Mrs. Reagan’s smile told him they now had a foot in her door, so to speak.

  The door opened behind Mrs. Reagan, causing her to look at the porch ceiling for a moment. In frustration or in prayer?

  “Men, this is my husband, Pastor Patrick Reagan. Patrick, could you please find Mack and Kiowa, and ask them to come over to the parsonage? Their help for a project has arrived.”

  “Kaitlyn, what project?” the pastor asked while raising his eyebrows at his wife.

  The woman put her hands on her hips and answered. “A Peashooter Society project, so please stop by and ask Lorna, Millie, Helen, and Darcie to join us too.”

  “Oh, Deuteronomy,” Barton thought the pastor muttered as he stepped off the porch and walked toward downtown.

  Wasn’t that what his son, Angus, had muttered too?

  Mrs. Reagan turned back to them and her look and crossed arms meant business.

  “Now, I raised six boys myself, a mixture of brothers and adopted, and I know you didn’t read that advertisement in the newspaper and travel here only a week after I mailed my letter. Tell me the truth now, or you leave now.”

  Barton turned to look at his brothers and friends since it had to be a group decision. Some nods were quicker than others, but they all agreed to confess.

  “Ma’am, last week we were just released from our service at Fort Riley and heading home by train to visit our families near Topeka. The train was east of Junction City when it was robbed, and all the passengers had to get off. One car was blasted open, and mail blew to the wind. We picked up the letters thinking we might get a reward for their return.”

  “Oh dear. I heard about that robbery! Was anyone hurt?”

  “Not seriously, ma’am. But we found your letter, almost torn in two, and I confess I read it to the group.”

  “Did you hand my letter over to the postal service with the rest of the letters?”

  “No, Ma’am. I have your letter in my bag.”

  “And you thought my advertisement was a way for the six of you to stay together,” she guessed.

  “Yes, Ma’am. We’ve been home to visit family, got letters of recommendation, and traveled here as soon as we could.”

  Mrs. Reagan took a moment to study each of them, then stepped back to open the front door.

  “Please come into the dining room for coffee while we wait for the others to arrive.”

  Every one of them took off their hat and nodded their thanks as they walked into the woman’s home and then turned to wait for her to lead the way. Their manners had to be impeccable to win over the women in the group, and the pastor, who Barton could tell didn’t know about the ladies’ plan.

  “May I help you carry anything, Mrs. Reagan?” Wesley asked as the rest sat down around the long, scarred dining room table.

  Her smile lit up the room. “Yes, you may. Please follow me.”

  They let out a collected breath. Gordon looked at him and asked. “What do you think?” And Barton knew what he meant.

  Can we pull this off without something, or someone, ruining it?

  “I hope so. I like the town,” Tobin said as he straightened in his chair, always trying to look taller.

  *

  Barton watched and listened as four middle-aged women walked into the house, chatting among themselves. He braced himself for what the women would say once they saw the six of them around the Reagan's dining room table.

  He watched as each woman scanned their faces, probably making snap decisions at that moment. Would they declare them all candidates, or pick and choose who they wanted? Barton hated to worry about Tobin but being short and heavy, well, even if he didn't get a bride, surely there was employment for him, even if he had to live with one of them.

  "Hello, Ladies, may I pull your chairs out for you?" But then Tobin had the best manners Barton thought, as they all stood up to greet the women.

  Wesley returned to the dining room carrying a large coffee pot, and a flat wooden tray of cups. Mrs. Reagan followed with a large glass platter of a variety of cookies and bread. For being caught unawares of strangers on her doorstep, she had a pantry of baked goods apparently. But then people stopping by might be normal for the parsonage.

  "Hey, Ma!" a large, bulky man filled the doorway as he strolled into the dining room. He was very tall, like Peter, but over two times as heavy in weight.

  Barton heard another male voice with Pastor Reagan and assumed the last to enter was their benefactor.

  He was surprised when a well-dressed native man, his long hair in a braid flipped over his left shoulder, walked in last.

  “Gentlemen, this is my son, Mack, and Kiowa Jones.

  "If everyone will sit down, Pastor will bless our refreshment, and then I’ll explain why we’re meeting. After that, we'll go around the table to tell a little about ourselves," Mrs. Reagan told the group.

  Barton immediately bowed his head, hoping—no, praying—that they'd get through this meeting of sorts without anything going wrong. The locals said "amen" after the brief thanks and started talking and passing filled coffee cups at the same time.

  Once Mrs. Reagan sat down at the end of the table and had a sip of coffee, she cleared her throat.

  "Patrick. Yes, the Peashooter Society, as the younger people in town call us, has a plan to help several members of the community. Because there are a large number of single young women in town and several businesses which need management, we talked to Kiowa and Mack about working together with us.”

  “Ladies, our advertisement was answered more quickly than I thought, but I feel these young men might be exactly who we need for our project.”

  Barton’s eyes flashed at the rest of his group, hoping this might work out for them after all.

  “Ladies, please go around the table and introduce yourselves first."

  “I'm Mrs. Millie Wilerson, the marshal's wife. I came as a mail-order bride in '73."

  “Millie is well known for her baking and her flower garden," Mrs. Reagan added.

  “I'm Darcie Shepard, Millie's sister. Our family has Shepard and Sons Saddlery on the east end of Main Street. Our children Gabe, Tate, and Amelia work in the shop. Our daughter, Mary, is married to Kiowa Jones," the woman added as she pointed to the last man who entered the room.

  Barton wondered if the young woman he ran into on the boardwalk was Mrs. Shepard’s daughter. They had similar hair color and features.

  "Lorna Elison, lawyer's wife. Mail-order bride."

  "Helen Paulson. Our family owns and runs the Paulson Hotel. I also came to town for a marriage, although it turned out different than I’d planned," Mrs. Paulson smiled broadly as she patted Lorna's hand. "And as the mother of eight girls, two of marriage age, I'm always looking for good men."

  The older group around the table chuckled at the story only they knew about.

  "Mrs. Cate Connely is also involved in this project, although she lives out on the Cross C Ranch with her husband, Isaac," Mrs. Reagan introduced the missing woman of the Peashooter Society. "Three of their granddaughters have moved into town to operate the dress shop, formerly owned by Mary Jones."

  "I assume you and Cate are plotting Maggie's, Molly's, and Maisie's upcoming weddings?" Pastor Reagan asked his wife.

  "And my Amelia. She needs a life besides working with her father and brothers all the time," Mrs. Shepard added with a wave of her hand.

  "Avalee and Nadine need husbands too," Mrs. Paulson said.

  “Thank you, ladies. I was a mail-order bride too, and so we thought, why not replicate our scenario—in reverse this
time, and order men for the women in town.”

  “Mack, how did they get you involved in this?” Pastor Reagan asked his son.

  Mack shrugged his shoulders. “It made sense, Da.”

  “Gentlemen, would you please introduce yourselves and say why you’d like to be involved in this project, knowing this is a lifelong commitment,” Mrs. Reagan continued to conduct her, well, meeting.

  Barton opened his mouth to speak, but Tobin beat him to it by standing up.

  “I’m Tobin Billings, and I’m honored to be here today, not only to meet all of you but because my loyal friends have never left me behind. We’ve been together since we left the orphanage in New York City at a very young age. And I will do any job you ask of me to be a part of this community. Thank you,” Tobin said in a rush, and then sat down.

  Barton stood up next, noticing the nods that went between the pastor and his wife.

  “Barton Miller, and as Tobin said, we’ve been together for years. First on the train, then in a community in Shawnee County, near Topeka. We enlisted together at Fort Riley and have recently been mustered out. When we read about Mrs. Reagan’s opportunity, we decided we’d like to be considered, as a group, to stay together,” Barton said before sitting down.

  “I’m Gordon, the middle Miller brother. I believe we have strengths and weaknesses as anyone, but as a group, we’re loyal and help each other out. We’d like to be part of this community as we start our adult lives.”

  “Squires Miller, the youngest of the brothers, who's been fortunate to have these good five fellows take care of me.”

  “Peter Gehring. I don’t remember anything of my former life, except that Barton protected me on the train and insisted I stay with him when we got off. I want to be with my family.”

  “And I’m Wesley Preston, another tagalong who has benefited from this group’s friendship. Not all of us ended up in good homes after we were adopted, but Barton made sure we kept in touch however and whenever we could through the years. The idea of employment, housing, and the chance for a wife interested all of us as a way to stay together.”