A Leap of Faith For Christmas Read online

  A LEAP OF FAITH

  FOR

  CHRISTMAS

  The Spinster Mail Order Brides Series

  Book 23

  BY

  ANGELA LAIN

  Copyright 2020 Angela Lain

  ISBN 9798608777530

  Independently published

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  The Spinster Mail Order Bride series can be found here.

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07TK3P35H

  Contents

  Chapter One…………..page 1

  Chapter Two…………..page 7

  Chapter Three…………page 16

  Chapter Four………….page 28

  Chapter Five………….page 38

  Chapter Six…………...page 47

  Chapter Seven………...page 61

  Chapter Eight…………page 78

  Chapter Nine………….page 95

  Chapter Ten…………..page 107

  Chapter Eleven……….page 124

  Chapter Twelve……….page 139

  CHAPTER ONE

  December 1872

  Harley Kendrick stepped out of the forge to see the slight dusting of snow floating down from the pinky-grey clouds. Hopefully it wouldn’t be much, yet. It was early December and soon the snow would fall in earnest here in Wyoming. He glanced across the railed paddock to the sturdy cabin nestled beneath a couple of trees on the outskirts of the town. When the snow lay around it would be so much simpler if he lived there as he used to do, but he couldn’t, not at the moment.

  Harley had arrived in Feather Hill almost fifteen years ago, at the age of fifteen. They had been moving west; father, mother and six boys, of which he was the second eldest. They had paused in Feather Hill for his mother to produce boy number seven. When they had moved on some six months later, Harley had stayed put. Life with so many siblings was suffocating, and Harley had chosen to break away.

  When they arrived here, he had found a job with Jesse Smith, the town blacksmith. Jesse had trained him, and when his family moved on, he had taken him in as a lodger. Jesse Smith and his wife Ada had become second parents, or grandparents, since both were then in their late fifties.

  Now Jesse was dead, Ada was infirm and needed a companion to help her, and Harley Kendrick had inherited both forge and cabin. But the cabin would only be his when Ada no longer needed it. She would have been happy had he still stayed there, but Harley could not at this time.

  Things were not so good at the moment, change was needed, and he had taken the first steps to see that change happen.

  He pushed his unruly dark curls from his eyes, as usual he needed a good wash, blacksmithing was a dirty job. How much chance there was to get that wash tonight remained to be seen.

  The forge was quiet, no horses awaiting their new shoes. This was the sort of time he should be making things; ploughshares, harrow tines, gates, whatever might be useful and saleable. Instead he needed to close up and ride to his brother’s ranch. It wasn’t far, three miles from town, but it was a hindrance to Harley’s whole life.

  Jasper Kendrick was one year his senior, he had returned to join Harley in Feather Hill when he was twenty-one. He had purchased the small ranch with money he had made from a small, and very lucky, gold strike. When Harley had queried why Jasper had not continued to search for gold to make his fortune, Jasper had confided that gold prospecting was a job he hated. All he wanted was land; a small ranch with a nice house, and that was what he had bought.

  For six years the brothers lived three miles apart, and lived and loved life, together. They did all the things young men did, they worked hard, they drank, they chased the girls, few though there were. They were both considered ‘high spirited young men’, but there was no malice attached to such a title, they were well-thought of in the town.

  Finally Jasper settled down with Cora-May Bishop, daughter of Agnes Bishop, who had sadly lost her husband the year before. Things looked rosy; Jasper was so in love with his lady, and they hoped for a family to complete their happiness. Harley, meanwhile, was happily single.

  But life has a way of throwing obstacles into everyone’s path.

  It was three years before the baby arrived, six months later Cora-May went to bed with a bad headache, and never woke up. Her mother had died the previous summer, and there was no-one much to call on for help.

  There was talk, of course there was talk, and people rallied around for a while to help out. People said Jasper should marry again, but he was too heart-sick. No-one in town came close to replacing Cora-May, and he strongly resisted such efforts. Ultimately the person the responsibility fell upon was Jasper, and his brother too. Harley moved in to the ranch. That too raised talk in town; two men, looking after a small baby, but what choice did they have?

  Harley now had to help Jasper with the ranch, as well as the baby, and someone, often him, had to keep house and cook, and even do the washing. Women were few and far between out here in the west, finding one to take on even a few hours of housework was not easy.

  Harley had made a decision, something had to change. Jasper could not carry on in this way, and he had his own life to live. His business was suffering because he was so often at the ranch.

  He closed down the forge fire, and saddled up his horse to head for the ranch. As he moved to close the doors, he glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was nearly a week now since he had posted the tickets to Miss Melody Jacobs. He had heard nothing. Would she write again, or would she arrive on the stage in three days’ time? It was true that December was hardly the time to be travelling, but things here were getting desperate. He had asked and she had agreed. He couldn’t help but wonder how prepared she was for Wyoming weather. The woman came from Kentucky, a very long way away from here!

  In her last letter she had agreed to come here to marry Jasper Kendrick. Of course the situation was volatile, and the girl could hardly be held to any decision, since she had signed no contract. He had taken it upon himself to write an advertisement, and he hadn’t gone through any agency to find the girl. The point really was that Miss Jacobs had inadvertently not been corresponding with Jasper Kendrick. Jasper knew nothing of the letters or her imminent arrival. Harley was the middle man, but neither party knew that.

  Harley felt a little guilty. He had made the suggestion that Jasper should seek a mail-order bride some time back, but his brother had been reluctant. He said it was denigrating the memory of Cora-May. Harley had argued that Cora-May would have wanted another mother to care for her baby. Jasper had accepted this was probably true, but he had still resisted writing the letter. He kept saying he was ‘not ready’, that he would do it ‘soon’.

  But Harley was well past ready, as was baby Cody!

  ***

  Harley arrived at the ranch house to find Jasper walking the floor with one year old Cody. The boy was restless, crying and reluctant to settle. The makings of their supper lay on the table, nowhere near ready to cook, leave alone eat.

  Harley sighed, it looked as if he was cooking again. What wouldn’t he give to arrive home to a tasty well-cooked supper?

  Maybe soon?

  Maybe Miss Melody Jacobs would be the answer to their prayers? Or his prayers, at least! When she arrived surely Jasper would see sense and marry her, and put an end to all this strife?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Miss April Cousins dropped her head onto the ta
ble, and onto the documents lying before her, in utter despair.

  What could she do? Was there any way to get through this?

  She was alone in the world. Alone, and lonely.

  Ten years ago they had arrived here, a happy family taking on a homestead granted by the government. The future looked bright. April had been all of eighteen, the eldest daughter of Amelia and Arthur Cousins, older sister to Henry, and David and Albert, who were twins.

  For two years the farm had grown and begun to thrive. Her father and Henry, then fifteen, had worked the fields, she and her mother had made a garden and grown vegetables. They had chickens and a couple of milk cows, and everything was wonderful.

  Then her mother sickened and died.

  April stepped up and took over the household, setting aside her dreams of marriage to the local apothecary’s son, in order to care for her father and brothers.

  For a few months things were rocky, as Arthur Cousins came to terms with the loss of his wife, but things seemed to settle. However, when the twins left the school house and began to work every day on the farm, things took a turn for the worse. More labor should have made things better, but Arthur Cousins began spending more and more of his time in town.

  Then Henry rebelled. He was nineteen, and he no longer wanted the life offered on the farm. He argued violently with his father, who was, as usual, somewhat the worse for drink. The next day he was gone, and he had never returned.

  The twins stuck it for another eighteen months, before they too rode off to seek a better life elsewhere.

  April was left alone with her father.

  She had tried to talk to him about his drinking, and he had promised to change. Indeed, sometimes he had been sober for weeks, and then he had worked hard on the land. But it would never last; he would head off on a bender, and drink himself unconscious. Then the work would fall behind. April struggled to keep things going. She worked the fields, she tended the animals, she tried to keep the garden alive and she tended the house. She knew she did none of it properly, she didn’t have the time to cook and clean as she wanted. They lived from hand to mouth while she tried to produce enough from the farm to pay the bills.

  Everything about the homestead was shabby and broken. She labored from dawn till dusk, but it was never enough. Her father spent more and more of his time in the town saloon, oblivious to his daughter’s struggles.

  Finally it happened. Three days ago, riding home from the saloon on their only remaining horse, Arthur Cousins fell from the saddle and broke his neck.

  As she had stood over her father’s grave this morning, in the cold of the first winter’s snow, she had felt sorrow, but also relief. Not that she had wished him dead, but in truth he had died long since, the shell of the man who was laid in the ground was not her father. Life had held nothing for him, he had wanted to be with her mother. She hoped with all her heart that they could be re-united in death.

  She had hoped that his death may mean she could move on, instead she sat here, alone and in debt to her eyeballs.

  The letters on the table were bills, missives which had been handed to her, in admittedly a very apologetic fashion, as she left the church this morning. Mr. Marlow from the mercantile, and Mr. Harcourt from the feed mill had been sympathetic, but it didn’t alter the content of the letters. Unpaid accounts, months of unpaid accounts.

  How had things got so bad? How had she allowed it to get so bad? The truth was she had still put her trust in her father, when she should have realized he wasn’t reliable. Obviously, monies supposed to go into the bank had never gone any further than the saloon. She now dreaded visiting the bank, because she suspected he had also been taking money out to feed his habit.

  Was there even enough to pay the undertaker for the funeral?

  ***

  Next morning she bundled up warmly and rode into town on Bay Boy; she had to ride, there was no longer a cart or buggy which was fit to use.

  She wasn’t unaware of the looks she got as she rode through the town. She was the daughter of the town drunk, and as such, she seemed tarred with the same brush.

  Her first stop was the bank. It seemed she was expected.

  “Miss Cousins, please come through to the office.” Mr. Spencer, bank manager, wasted no time in removing her from the counter. She knew she wasn’t and attractive sight, worn clothes, mid-brown hair braided and put into a bun, she looked nothing like the young girl who had been the intended of the apothecary’s son.

  April seated herself at his desk, wondering exactly how bad this would be.

  Mr. Spencer’s first words were not encouraging. No ‘how can I help you?’ or ‘what can we do for you today?’

  “Miss Cousins, I hope we can sort this out without too much distress.”

  “As do I. You must understand, Mr. Spencer, I had no idea there were so many unpaid bills. I had given my father funds to pay into our account, we had sold cattle, and I trusted him to pay the bills.”

  Mr. Spencer cleared his throat. “It would appear that no money has entered the account for almost nine months, however, some has been taken out.”

  “How much remains?” April questioned in horror.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

  Mr. Spencer clasped his hands together, elbows on the desk and dropped his forehead onto his clasped hands, as if he was praying. “I am sorry, but that is the situation. There is no ready money. However, it is worse than that. Your father took out a mortgage on your farm.”

  April stared in horror.

  “So I don’t own the farm?”

  “I am afraid the bank owns around half of it.”

  She sat for several moments, allowing this awful discovery to truly sink in. As things stood, she could not make the land pay, and she could not pay off the debt. Her only course of action was to sell up.

  “Can I sell the land?”

  “You could, but it may cause you complications, which leads me to believe you would be better off selling it to the bank.”

  April regarded the man for a few moments. “You are not trying to steal from me, are you?”

  Mr. Spencer sighed, “No, Miss Cousins, I am telling it like it is. I knew your father from the day you all arrived here, I liked him and I worked with him to finance and set up his home. I am sorry for what has happened. I would not try to steal from you. I did try to talk him out of the mortgage, but he would not listen. I am giving you an option which is probably the best you will get.”

  “So what is the land worth?”

  “Since it has been farmed, and is no longer virgin land, around fifteen dollars an acre.”

  “And the house, and the barn, and the fences?” April knew none of it was in prime condition, but she had to try.

  “Around eight hundred dollars, maximum.”

  She did some quick calculations in her head. “That comes to $2600,” She stated flatly.

  “It does, but the bank holds a mortgage for $1500, which has to be covered.”

  “If I sell to you, with no further discussions or traumas, you will give me $1100, today.”

  Mr. Spencer looked pained, “Well…”

  “No discussion. I won’t take a penny less, in fact I should ask for more. Maybe I should go to speak with Mr. Adamson?”

  At the mention of the solicitor Mr. Spencer winced. “He will cost you money.”

  “But he may gain me money.”

  “How about we agreed to $1100?”

  April stared at him, mind working frantically. It was a lot of money in the pocket, but was it fair? Then again, she couldn’t deal with the land, she couldn’t pay the bills. Should she do this without advice?

  “Miss Cousins, I realize this is very hard for you. I will make you an offer, here and now. I will pay you $1200, and we will settle right now. You will, of course, need to vacate the premises within the week.”

  April made a decision. “A full week! I will agree. I will see the animals removed, but you will
need to take the house as I leave it, I am in no position to remove much of the furniture. Also, you will undertake to pay any and every bill which is outstanding for both my father and myself in this town at this time. I believe I have paid everything, except for the funeral, but I do not wish to be pursued for anything else which may come to light.”

  Mr. Spencer nodded, “You drive a hard, but sensible bargain, Miss Cousins. I will get the paperwork drawn up; you can collect it in the morning.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  April picked up the coffee cup from the counter of the eating house and moved to sit by the window. Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped here after leaving the bank, but she felt light-headed, she needed a few moments respite. She would have liked to indulge in a cake, but she needed to think of her finances. Destitute she was not, yet, but the small expenses added up.

  If only her father had seen it that way, but he had been too drunk to see anything at all these last few years.

  She turned it over in her mind once again.

  Had she done right?

  It was too late to think that way. What was done was done. She had to accept that, unbeknown to her, the farm had been in debt for months. At least she had managed to secure a small lump sum in the bank, and until she could find some form of income, she must guard it very carefully.

  A week; that was all she had left before she must vacate the house she had lived in for much of her life. She needed to empty possessions, to sell as much as possible, and to secure herself some sort of lodging. In truth the bank manager had been kind, many of the older residents had been kind too. They had seen the slow fall from grace suffered by her father. They knew he had been a good man, they knew he had looked out for his family and worked hard. New comers had seen him as nothing more than the town drunk, and sadly, she was the town drunk’s needy daughter.

  The doorbell jingled and a woman of her own age entered.