The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Read online

  The Annex Mail-Order Brides

  Prequel to Intrigue under Western Skies

  Elaine Manders

  Adela’s Prairie Suitor, Copyright ©2015, Elaine Manders

  Ramee’s Fugitive Cowboy, Copyright ©2015, Elaine Manders

  Prudie’s Mountain Man, Copyright ©2015, Elaine Manders

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or places is purely coincidental.

  Scripture references are taken from the King James Version (KJV) of the Bible.

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Adela’s Prairie Suitor

  Ramee’s Fugitive Cowboy

  Prudie’s Mountain Man

  Author’s Note

  Excerpt from Pursued

  About the Author

  Foreword

  Women had few opportunities for higher education during the 1800s. Coeducation was as controversial as suffrage. Then in 1879, Harvard College admitted twenty-seven female students. They weren’t allowed to take classes with men because the faculty thought women would be too distracting to the male students. The building used to teach the women became known as the Harvard Annex.

  Despite their valiant efforts, the women were never awarded Harvard degrees, and the Annex later became Radcliffe College for Women. Harvard didn’t award degrees to women until 1963.

  I wondered if these pioneers in women’s education gave in to the conventional wisdom of the day that the highest calling for every woman was to marry and have children. This is where my imagination took me.

  Book 1

  Adela’s Prairie Suitor

  Chapter 1

  Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1881

  If Adela Mason was the swooning type, she’d faint.

  She had more fortitude than that, but the now familiar words on the letter she held threatened to make her knees give way. The answer to all her prayers was now within her grasp, if she dared take it. She ordered her trembling hand to still so she could reread the letter.

  The man who’d penned it offered her the desire of her heart—a home of her own. Since she was already an old maid at twenty-four, this was her last hope. All she had to do was give up the chance of the best education available to a woman. Leave this luxurious townhouse and the best friends she’d ever known. Marry a man she’d never met. Become a mail-order bride.

  He didn’t send a proposal of marriage as might be expected; but rather, invited her to visit his Kansas farm so he could “court her proper.” The proposal was understood, and there was no question she’d go, though she knew nothing about him outside of a few letters. His mother would serve as chaperone.

  A mother—she’d have a mother again.

  Living on a farm was a cherished dream, and until now, an impossible one. What happy days she’d spent growing up on the small farm in rural Pennsylvania. Until her parents died, and she had to move to Philadelphia to live with her strict Puritan aunt and uncle.

  Byron had sent her money for the trip out, and that spoke of his sincerity. Besides, God wouldn’t send her to a man not of His choosing. If the Lord opened a door, she had to have the faith to walk through it.

  She gazed through the lacy curtains of the front window where the tall maples displayed leaves of gold and red. Her glance slid to the grand brick pillars anchoring the wrought iron fences that lined the townhouse yard.

  The beautiful, red brick colonial was within walking distance of the Annex. Lady Galenshire, Carianne Barlow’s English grandmother, paid for this lovely house, as well as the tuition for its inhabitants. She paid for their clothes and servants and everything else young, society ladies needed. And much they didn’t.

  Their sponsor expected much in return. They must conduct themselves in an exemplary manner and excel in their studies. Lady Galenshire’s representatives came frequently to make sure the young ladies held up their end of the arrangement. This was Adela’s dilemma. She was failing in two subjects, and no amount of catching up would help. She would be asked to leave before the next term.

  But what did it matter? This place, as beautiful as it was, wasn’t home. Adela’s gaze lifted to a flock of birds spreading over the deep blue autumn sky on their way south for the winter. They would stop at various places to eat and rest their wings.

  That was what this house was to Adela—a resting place. She and her friends would have to leave at some point. Adela sooner than the others.

  Her friends would arrive at any minute, back from the Annex. The prospect of leaving them marred Adela’s happiness like a speck of dirt on an otherwise perfect painting. She’d grown to love them like sisters. In many ways, they were closer than sisters.

  Adela turned from the window to trace a path around the room. She hadn’t told Carianne, Ramee, and Prudie about corresponding with Byron. Something told her they wouldn’t approve, and it would be hard to leave without their blessings.

  They must be wondering why she wasn’t in class at the Annex today. The Harvard Annex was the building set aside for women to take classes taught by Harvard instructors. She and her three housemates, indeed all the women enrolled in these courses, were guinea pigs in an experiment to see if they could stand the rigors of Harvard College. It was a test in coeducation.

  Adela suspected the experiment would fail—not because the women couldn’t pass the course, but because the Harvard men feared these radical ideas would diminish the college’s reputation.

  In any event, Adela wasn’t cut out for academia. She’d barely passed her classes last year. Accounting was the only subject she showed any promise in. Perhaps she could become a bookkeeper if Byron didn’t propose. No—she refused to entertain that possibility.

  Familiar voices sounded at the door, and Adela scampered to her favorite chair. It fit her like a comfortable pair of shoes. Homey and sturdy, its dull brown velvet upholstery worn in places, it looked out of place in the otherwise elegant parlor. She shoved the envelope between the chair’s cushion and side.

  The door burst open and her friends piled in. All three gave her a piercing glance. “Why did you skip the lecture, Adela?” Ramee sent the question over her shoulder. Honey blonde curls bounced as she shrugged out of her cape.

  Before Adela could open her mouth to answer, Carianne crossed the floor and pressed her cool palm to Adela’s forehead. “Are you ill?” Light brown tendrils framed Carianne’s heart shaped face, and her hazel eyes softened with concern.

  Adela shook her head, dislodging her friend’s hand. “I’m well, dearest. I just had…something to do.”

  “Well, you missed nothing.” Prudie removed her hat from her rich auburn hair and rolled her beautiful emerald eyes. “Professor Hogshead spent over half the time telling us what he’d teach us if our delicate feminine minds could absorb it.” She flopped into her chair so hard the ruffles of her petticoat flew up. Prudie wasn’t one to waste ladylike manners on them.

  Ramee laughed as she settled on the arm of Prudie’s chair, laying a hand on her shoulder. “She refers to Professor Hodgestead.”

  “I agree with Prudie. There wasn’t much to be gained from the lecture.” Carianne went about gathering their hats and wraps.

  Adela slid her hand into the crevice, grasping the letter as her heart raced. She had to tell them before they scattered to their rooms. She scooted to the edge of her seat and swallowed. “Do you remember back in the spring when Carianne brought in that magazine with the advertisements for mail-order brides?”

  Ramee shoved off her perch
. “I remember. The New England Prattler it was.” She wagged a hand at Carianne. “You recall the one with the photograph of the Casanova Cowboy on the cover?”

  They all enjoyed teasing Carianne over her infatuation with the handsome cattle baron who incited gossip by squiring beautiful socialites from Boston to Washington when he came east to lobby for western ranchers.

  Having put away the hats and wraps, Carianne looked up from the newspaper she’d retrieved from the Chippendale occasional table. She folded the paper and grinned while crossing the room to stand before them. She was the best natured person Adela knew and always ready to laugh at herself. “I do recall. That issue happened to have an important article on the state of the economy.”

  Ramee grinned, tilting her head at a jaunty angle. “Of course. We always go to the Prattler to learn about the state of the economy. Do you still have that issue?”

  “That’s about like asking old Hogshead if he still has a copy of the Iliad,” Prudie said.

  Laughter rang out around the room, and Carianne smacked Prudie over the head with the folded newspaper. “I think I can find it.”

  She made her way around the sofa. Adela shot out a hand, the one not clutching her letter, to stop her. “No, Carianne, I don’t need the magazine.” She turned to Prudie. “You found those ads for mail-order brides in the back, and we dared you to write an answer as a lark.”

  Prudie harrumphed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I remember, and I made you all write one. We each selected an ad and vied to see who could come up with the most ridiculous proposal. As I recall, I won.”

  Ramee leaned over the back of the sofa. “I showed mine to Jackson, and he was so incensed, he tore it into tiny pieces.”

  “That didn’t stop him from rushing to New York and ignoring you all summer.” Carianne ran her fingers along a seam of Adela’s chair. “All our replies were silly. I used mine for scrap paper, so I’m certain it found its way to the waste paper basket long ago.”

  Prudie leaned back, her hands locked behind her head. “I burned my answer to that mail-order bride ad. There was enough incriminating information in that letter for my enemies to hold it for blackmail, assuming I ever have anything they’d want.”

  Any other time Adela would have enjoyed her friends’ banter. She was always the quiet one, listening in the corner. But not today. She moistened her dry lips.

  “I mailed mine.”

  A heavy silence fell, and three sets of hazel, blue, and green eyes bored into Adela. “Are you saying you actually responded to one of those desperate men?” Prudie’s voice shrilled with accusation.

  Adela felt heat rushing up her neck. Her skin was so fair the slightest blush made her cheeks flame.

  Carianne asked her favorite question. “Why?”

  Adela got to her feet, standing as straight as her five-foot-two inch frame allowed. “I’ve never had your ambitions. Prudie, you intend to help run your family business. Ramie, you expect to find businessmen to help you with your fashion designs, and Carianne, you wish to please your grandmother. I’ve never had any real purpose for my education. All I’ve ever really wanted was to get married and have children.”

  “I’ll concede you’ll need a husband if you want children,” Prudie said, “but that’s all I’ll concede.”

  Ramie came up on the other side of Adela, shifting from one foot to the other as if she stood on hot coals. “Dearest, we all expect to marry one day, but what’s wrong with Harvard men? That’s why we go to those boring receptions.”

  Adela suspected many of the women flocked to the Annex with secret dreams of marrying a Harvard man—Ramee included. “That’s all well and good for you. You have a beau, but I don’t favor Harvard men, and none have shown us much interest.” For the most part, the men they’d met at those receptions looked down their noses at the Annex ladies.

  Ramee wasn’t deterred. “They were suspicious of us at first, perhaps, but they now know we don’t threaten their precious college. This is a new term. They’ll get used to us in the three years we have left.”

  Adela wrung her hands as she turned away. “You forget you all are younger than I am. I’ll soon be twenty-five years old. That’s a quarter of a century. I can’t wait for prospects.” She stiffened her spine and swung back to face them. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to live on a farm as I did as a child. Mr. Calhoun has described his farm just as I remember when Mama and Papa were alive—the clean air, the scent of newly turned earth. The chickens and pigs. The cows and horses.” She’d not had the pleasure of riding a horse in all the years she’d been with her aunt and uncle. The preferred transportation in Cambridge was the carriage.

  Her friends sent questioning glances to each other as if they thought she might be dangerous.

  Carianne hooked Adela by the crook of the arm and tugged her to the sofa, forcing her to sit. “Tell us about Mr. Calhoun.”

  Adela lifted the envelope and took out the folded pages. “His name is Byron. Have you ever heard a more romantic name?” A photograph fell out on her lap, and she held it up to Carianne. “He sent his picture along with the tickets.”

  Carianne examined the photograph, and Adela bit her lip, hoping they wouldn’t find fault. She wanted her friends to like this man.

  Relief calmed Adela’s racing heartbeat as Carianne smiled. “Oh, he’s very handsome. Not as good looking as the Casanova Cowboy…but very nearly so.”

  Prudie and Ramee came at a trot. Ramee settled beside Carianne and peered at the photograph. “He looks much like a young Jesse James.”

  Adela snatched the picture from them. “Jesse James is an outlaw.” Not even her friends could disparage Byron Calhoun and get away with it.

  “Soooo—outlaws can be good looking.” Ramee took umbrage as gracefully as a barnyard chicken, but of course, she was only teasing. Adela sent her a warm smile.

  Prudie slipped beside Adela and perused the photograph. “He’s quite presentable, but Adela, all you know is what he wrote. The truth is you don’t know this man. How can you consider marriage?”

  “That’s not true. We exchanged three letters, and he’s told me all about himself—revealed his heart in his written words.” That was stretching the truth a bit, but she’d read between the lines. “He’s going to move to the barn and give me his bedroom during my visit. How gallant is that?”

  “Your visit?” Prudie’s voice softened. “Then you don’t intend to marry him right away?”

  Ramee reached across Carianne to squeeze Adela’s arm. “That puts a new light to this madness. You about scared me to death.” She pressed her other hand to her heart. Ramee was given to dramatics.

  Prudie tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “We understood these mail-order marriages took place the minute the bride arrived.”

  “Oh no.” She’d explained things badly. “Mr. Calhoun and I both agreed we need a month to get to know each other.” She shrugged to show a nonchalance she wasn’t feeling. “So it’s possible…I’ll return a spinster.”

  This apparently made them all happy. Everyone relaxed until Carianne tapped Adela on the knee. “Who will chaperone? You can’t just use Mr. Calhoun’s bedroom, even if he moves to the barn.” Despite being the youngest, Carianne played mother hen to the group.

  Adela laughed. “His mother lives with him…that is, Mr. Calhoun takes care of his mother. His father died last year. I think that shows strength of character, don’t you? That he takes care of his mother, though she could have gone to live with his married sister.”

  Ramee twisted her rosebud mouth. “It does show strength of character, as you say, but it also means his mother will likely live with you after the wedding. How do you feel about sharing your house with another woman?”

  “Sharing the house with his mother pleases me greatly.” Having lost her own mother at the age of ten, Adela welcomed the prospect of living with her mother-in-law. “I’m certain Mrs. Calhoun and I will get along well.”

  Prudie hugged her
. “You can get along well with anyone. Haven’t you put up with me for over a year?”

  Adela hugged her back. “I count all of you my dearest friends. How I’ll miss you.”

  “Kansas is so far away.” Carianne’s tone indicated it might as well be China.

  Indeed, the distance loomed in Adela’s mind. A thousand miles would separate her from her friends, but she couldn’t dwell on that. Byron waited at the end of those miles. “I’ll write every week, and you’ll come visit me.” She looked from one to the other, reading nothing but love mixed with regret in each pair of eyes. “If I should decide to marry Mr. Calhoun, you will come to my…wedding?”

  Carianne hugged the other side of Adela. Ramee moved around to the back of the sofa and wrapped her arms around Adela’s neck as she spoke into Adela’s ear. “Of course we’ll come, but you must promise us one thing.”

  Adela twisted her head around and darted Ramee a questioning glance.

  Ramee squeezed Adela’s shoulders. “If you don’t develop a deep affection for this man, and he for you, you must come straight home with no regrets. You deserve no less than love, dearest.”

  “She’s right,” Prudie added. “You must expect love before marriage.”

  “I believe By…Mr. Calhoun already looks upon me with some affection, or he wouldn’t have invited me to his farm, and I’m convinced he’s an honest, Christian man.” Adela sent up a little prayer that she was right.

  Carianne kissed her cheek. “Then that’s the most important thing. If he’s a Christian, he will love you.”

  Adela clutched the letter and photograph to her chest. How true. Byron would love her before asking for her hand. If he didn’t come to love her, he wouldn’t propose. It was as simple as that.

  They all surrounded her in a hug. “Don’t forget, you must love him too,” Ramee said. Adela wouldn’t forget. She was half way in love with Byron already, but even as she basked in her friends’ approval, a jot of guilt niggled her. She’d not been exactly honest with Byron.