Santa Fe Mail Order Brides Box Set
Thank you for downloading the Santa Fe Mail Order Bride book set. In this book set, you will find the following five books:
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Copyright and Disclaimer
All right reserved. Katherine St. Clair and Maplewood Publishing © 2016
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products’ of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Matthew Touched by Grace
Mark Found by Hope
Luke Embraced by Faith
John Finds Love
Eli Sought by Serenity
A Note to My Readers
More books from Katherine St. Clair
Matthew Touched by Grace
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter One
August 21, 1898
E lijah Wells studied the old, worn bible in his lap. Sitting before the roaring fireplace, he lacked the proper light for reading, but a man of his chosen profession really didn’t need light to know God’s Word. Being a minister most all of his life, he knew the Book by heart – from wrinkled cover to cover. He’d relied on it for many, many years, but none more than those following his wife’s passing.
She and their fifth son had both died in childbirth, leaving him alone to raise the other four. God had been the only guidance he’d had, and He’d provided well enough. All four of Eli’s sons were healthy, hard-working, God-fearing men.
About six years ago, he’d sold everything he owned and moved his family from San Francisco to Santa Fe, New Mexico. The decision to move had been a difficult one. It wasn’t common for a grown, established man to uproot his entire family and move halfway across the country. But one night, as he lay alone in his bed missing his wife, God had spoken to him. The Lord had told Eli that His children in Santa Fe needed a minister and a church. So, Eli followed God’s command, and now here he was.
Building a new life in these times wasn’t easy, but he and his boys had managed to start a small farm and build an even smaller church not far from their modest cabin. They’d named the church New Springs Baptist Church, in honor of the full, flowing creek along the back of his homestead.
It was a rustic, yet beautiful building sitting on the bank of the healthy flowing stream. It didn’t have a large steeple or a fancy bell, but it had a roof, a wooden floor, and weatherproof walls.
It had taken a few months and many prayers, but eventually his congregation grew to fill the crudely handmade pews his eldest son Matthew had made.
“Everything alright, Pa?” a voice came from behind him. Eli turned and smiled at John, his youngest at fourteen years old. The boy looked like his mother Janet, more so every day. It warmed Eli’s heart to peer into those bright blue eyes.
“Just thinkin’,” Eli responded warmly and motioned for the blonde-headed boy to join him. John shuffled across the creaky plank floor and sat in the hardback chair across from his father.
“What ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” the boy asked, ever inquisitive – yet another of his late mother’s traits.
“Well,” Eli said, and sighed deeply. “I was thinkin’ about your Ma and the move. It’s been hard, but worth it.”
John’s crystal blue eyes narrowed and a pensive look fell over his face. Eli pressed his lips together tightly to keep from smiling. He’d raised his boys to always be honest and open with one another. Their home held no secrets. If a problem arose, they settled around the old dinner table and prayed. Then they discussed it with rational minds.
“You know what I think, Pa?” John asked after a few quiet moments.
“What’s that, son?” Eli asked.
“I think we need some womenfolk ‘round here,” the boy announced. “I mean, the farm and church is fine, but we need a woman’s touch here and there.”
Eli chuckled at his son’s declaration. He had a good idea where this notion had come from.
“Been talkin’ with Missus McCleary again have you?” Eli asked teasingly. Their nearest neighbors were a good three miles away, but the elderly Irish woman still managed to make her way around once or twice a month to “check on her boys.” She never stayed long. Apparently John had overheard her disapproving mutterings over their “lack of feminine touch.”
John’s face blushed and he nodded once.
“What’s wrong?” Eli teased. “My cookin’ not sittin’ well with ya?” He reached forward and ruffled the boy’s sleep-tousled hair.
“Oh no, Pa!” John replied with a horrified look on his face.
Eli chuckled and patted John on the bare knee peeking out the hem of his white, cotton nightshirt.
“I was just teasin’, son.” he placated the boy before he nattered around and woke the others. “I agree,” he admitted begrudgingly. “This place could use a woman’s touch, maybe then it wouldn’t look like we lived in a cowhand’s bunkhouse, eh?” He winked. Although deep within him, he yearned for Janet, her absence almost too much to bear. He knew the boys missed their mother too, and it had only been by God’s grace that they’d made it this far. “Go on,” Eli urged John. “Get to bed, we got church in the mornin’.”
John’s words sat with Eli long after the boy had shuffled back to his bed. Matthew and Mark were of marrying age, but their small town had no prospects. His boys ranged from age twenty-three to fourteen and as their father, it was his responsibility to see them cared for.
Eli stood behind his minister’s pulpit and studied the many faces of his congregation. His thoughts and worries from last night were lingering in the back of his mind. The healthy number of attendees humbled him, and yet he couldn’t help but notice the shortage of womenfolk. He also couldn’t help but notice the vast amount of eligible, unmarried men among his flock. Ever since John had pointed it out, it was all he could think about.
He studied his four boys, proudly seated in the front pew, and saw the same absence John had. Suddenly like a light from Heaven, God laid a mission on his heart. He was this community’s shepherd and when the flock waned, the shepherd gathered more.
His gaze went to Walter Mathers, proprietor of the modest town paper. He made a mental note to speak with Walter after the service. Perhaps between the two of them, they could concoct a worthy plan.
Putting his mission aside for the moment, we went on and delivered his prepared sermon. As usual, God provided when he needed.
He made sure to meet each member’s gaze, his words soft and assuring. He talked about brotherly and sisterly love, neighbor helping neighbor, and unity in general. He wasn’t a minister that bombarded his congregation with threats of fire and brimstone if they didn’t immediately repent all their sins. He didn’t believe in scare tactics as a means to bring light and love into his sermon.
God was vengeful when He needed to be, but above everything else, God loved, He forgave, and He guided. Eli and his boys were living proof.
After the servic
e concluded, Eli walked down the narrow aisle and opened the double front doors. Standing at the base of the wooden steps, he greeted each member with either a hug or handshake. He received murmurs of appreciation and praise, but all the while he gave credit to God. It was His words and His love Eli shared. As a minister, he was merely a vessel used to share what the Lord wanted.
When Walter strolled out, Eli clasped his hand and held it longer than usual.
“Wonderful sermon, Preacher,” Walter said. “You always manage to warm my soul with your words.”
“God’s words,” Eli corrected Walter. “God tells me what He wants said; I just say it.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
Walter smiled in return and nodded his head.
“Of course, of course,” he agreed. “I just meant that I’m glad you came to us, our little town needed you more than you’ll ever know.”
“God commanded and I obeyed, Walter,” Eli responded. “But between you and me, I’m glad to be here as well.” He winked conspiratorially.
Walter responded with a wink of his own and moved to head on toward his horse and buggy. When Eli didn’t release the man’s hand, Walter glanced back at him in question. Seizing the opportunity, Eli bent toward the shorter man.
“I’d like to discuss somethin’ with you,” he said. “Would you mind comin’ out to the homestead for some coffee?”
A curious gleam fell over Walter’s eyes and Eli knew he’d snagged the newspaper man’s attention.
“Sounds good,” Walter agreed.
Elijah sat at the head of the table and studied the other five men. His boys occupied benches on either side of the table, with Walter sitting in what used to be Janet’s chair. Matthew and Mark sat on his left side and Luke and John on his right. It was almost funny how they paired off. His two eldest were the best of friends and his two youngest were the reclusive ones; it was like they relied on each other for courage to merely get through the day. Neither of the younger boys ever strayed far from the other. Even though there were three years difference in their ages, they acted more like twins.
“What’s wrong, Pa?” Luke, his seventeen-year-old asked, his face drawn together pensively. “You only call a family meetin’ when somethin’s wrong.”
“Nothin’s wrong,” Eli hastened to assure his third son. “Mr. Mathers is here because I had an idea.” His gaze went to John’s. “It was actually your idea, but God told me to listen.” He reached forward and clasped his youngest on the shoulder.
“Today as I stood before the congregation, I noticed a certain lack of females amongst our numbers,” he began. “It appears as though Santa Fe is in short supply of womenfolk.” He looked back at John and winked. “I think it’s high time somebody does somethin’ to fix that.”
“What ya thinkin’, Pa?” Mark asked. “You gonna start a mail order bride business?” He’d meant it as a joke and the rest laughed in accord. Twenty-one-year-old Mark was always poking fun at one thing or another. Leave it to him to find the humor in this situation. Then again, he’d need one heck of a gal to put up with him.
Eli inhaled deeply and placed his clasped hands on the table before him.
“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he confirmed. Each man grew quiet and merely stared at Eli as though he’d sprouted an extra head. Mail order brides weren’t unheard of, and since the war, many good women were widowed. They deserved love and happiness and Santa Fe’s men could give them that.
“That’s where Mr. Mathers come in,” Eli continued. “Since he runs the Santa Fe Report, he can help write a couple ads for us. Depending on what you all have to say, I’ll announce it publicly next Sunday and we’ll see how many men would be interested.”
“Elijah, I need to point out that my paper isn’t that widespread,” Walter interjected. “But I do have a friend back in Philadelphia who may be willing to help. I can write to him and see,” Walter offered, obviously interested in the idea.
“That sounds good Walter, thank you,” Eli responded and then turned to Matthew, his eldest. “What do ya say son, you willin’ to go first?” He nearly laughed out loud at the mortified look on his son’s face.
“Why me?” Matthew asked, his voice sounding slightly panicked. “Why not let Mark go first? He’s the one who needs a woman’s touch,” he accused.
Mark’s head whipped around and he glared at his brother. Eli feared for a moment that he’d have to settle yet another brotherly brawl but after a few minutes, both sons burst out laughing.
In all his twenty-three years of being a father, Eli had never seen his boys go at each other with raised fists. Of course, boys being boys, he’d had to separate a few rough-housing sessions. He’d always tried to teach them to settle their conflicts with words, compassion, and civility.
“What about you, Pa?” Luke’s soft question silenced them all. All eyes turned to the seventeen year old. He sat with wide, innocent eyes trained squarely on his father. Eli swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. After Janet’s death, he’d never thought about taking another wife.
She’d been his mate in all ways; the one made for him. So, after her passing, he’d gone on as best as he could.
“Yeah Pa,” John chimed in. “What ‘bout you?”
Eli’s eyes went from one son to another, his heart hammering with each earnest gaze he met. How could he be an example if he didn’t lead? Is this what God wanted him to do?
Eli sat on the modest front porch and watched the sky fade into the pinks and blues of the falling sun. He rocked back and forth in his old wobbly chair. He softly stroked the smooth wood of the armrest and smiled fondly. It had been Janet’s. She rocked each of their babies in this very chair and it was one of the few things he’d refused to part with. He’d also kept her cedar chest.
Her own pa had made the chest for her shortly before she and Eli married. She’d jokingly called it her “special memory box.” He’d only looked inside it once. As he’d sorted through his things, determining which to sell and which to haul to Santa Fe, he’d opened the lid and was instantly enveloped in a cloud of Janet.
Roses had been her favorite flower and a multitude of dried petals of all colors were strewn throughout the chest’s contents. He’d also found little ribbon-wrapped slivers of hair, four different hues for four different sons. There were other little mementos she’d felt the need to keep, and he recalled the story behind each and every one.
He sobbed uncontrollably for what felt like hours before carefully replacing everything back inside. He couldn’t bear to part with it after seeing the contents.
His sons, the old rocking chair and a cedar chest was all he had left of the woman he’d loved so fiercely. How could he possibly consider marrying another? Could he love another woman enough? He closed his eyes and he prayed. He asked for guidance and wisdom. At the age of forty-five, did he have the strength to start over?
He was a shepherd, he was a leader. How else could he lead, if not by example?
Chapter Two
October 8, 1898
C ecelia Baker wrapped her black, handmade shawl more securely around her shoulders as she headed down Broad Street toward the gathering. As a way to attract attention to their city, Philadelphia’s mayor had orchestrated a Jubilee in honor of the end of the Spanish-American War. Cece hadn’t wanted to attend. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back under her blankets and sleep for the rest of her life.
Her husband Daniel had fought and died in that war and she wanted nothing to do with it. But her sister Delia had literally pushed her into getting dressed – even if it was all in black to demonstrate her widowhood – and attend the assembly. Cece knew Delia had an ulterior motive.
Daniel had died in May and Cecelia’s older sister, Delia had allowed very little time for Cece to mourn before she began shoving new husbandly prospects before her sister. Although she understood her sister’s well intentions, Cece didn’t appreciate nor reciprocate any male attention. After twenty years of
marriage, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone; even if it was with Daniel’s spirit hovering over her like a veil.
The only reason she’d agreed to attend this Jubilee was to get away from Delia’s nagging. She’d refused to accompany her sister and brother-in-law, choosing instead to skulk around alone.
In the days following Daniel’s death, Cece had turned to God for support and guidance. Although she and her sister hadn’t been raised in a very religious home, she’d always felt God’s presence surrounding her. She saw it in the beauty of nature and even the kindness of others.
Church was really the only place she truly felt at peace. From the day they married, she and Daniel had never missed a Sunday service. Maybe that was why she felt solace there. It was the one thing she and her husband shared an equal love of – besides each other.
“Cece!” a loud female voice called from across the street. Sighing heavily, she turned toward her sister and formed a fake smile. Apparently her hopes of staying on the outskirts were in vain.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Delia gasped and shoved a crinkled piece of paper into Cece’s black lace gloved hands. “Pastor Tupper dropped this off just after you left.” Delia’s face flushed a little at the mention of the elderly preacher. It wasn’t that Delia disapproved of Cece’s religious nature, she just didn’t believe. Cece had long ago given up trying to convince her sister of the existence of a higher power.
Cecelia unfolded the paper, carefully smoothing the crumpled edges, and realized it was a letter addressed to Pastor Tupper. She stopped reading after seeing the salutation addressed to someone other than herself.
“I don’t understand,” she protested. “This isn’t for me,” she declared and pushed it back toward her sister.