Julia Read online

  Julia

  Angel Creek Christmas Brides

  Lily Graison

  Julia

  Angel Creek Christmas Brides #2

  Copyright © 2018 by Lily Graison

  All Rights Reserved - 1st Edition

  Cover Design by

  https://www.wickedsmartdesigns.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The right of Lily Graison to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit my website at lilygraison.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  A Note From Lily

  More From Angel Creek

  Want More?

  Reading List

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Hiding behind a happy smile when your heart is grieving never gets easier. Julia stared out the window, watching the falling snow as memories of all those loved ones no longer with them brought tears to her eyes.

  The laughter of the children gathered in the room was the only thing that kept the sadness from consuming her. It was Christmas Eve after all, and there was no room for frowns today.

  Charity, one of her oldest and dearest friends, was telling her account of how they all came to be in Angel Creek and slowly, the memories of that first Christmas chased away her blues.

  She heard her name and looked over her shoulder. Charity was staring at her. So was every child present. Her grandchildren and those of her friends were sitting in a semi-circle in the middle of the room, all with expectant looks on their faces.

  Rebecca, her oldest great-granddaughter sat up on her knees. “Come tell us about when you first met grandpa.”

  “Yes!” Hannah yelled, a happy smile on her chubby face. “Tell us about you and grandpa Bailey.”

  They’d heard the story dozens of times but never seemed to grow tired of hearing it, which suited her fine. She never grew tired of telling it. Remembering the past gave her a chance to reminisce about those who had already left them.

  She crossed the room and took a seat, then laid a finger to her chin as if thinking. “Well … let me see. I believe it was right after the war.” She grinned at Charity. “Someone had the absurd idea of us becoming mail-order brides so Charity, Ruby, Sarah, and Anna dragged me kicking and screaming all the way out here.”

  Anna laughed. “Liar.”

  Julia settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, the memories filling her mind’s eye. “Angel Creek Montana was nothing like Charleston…”

  Chapter One

  November, 1865

  The town was tucked into the shadow of several mountains and the crooked streets were filled with mud. The squat buildings lining the road through town were nothing more than square boxes of unadorned wood planks, several of them leaning a bit to one side—unless the weeks of travel while staring out the window to take in the scenery had permanently damaged her neck to the point everything looked tilted.

  Julia Hamel stepped out of the stagecoach and pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her neck as a gust of blistering wind whistled through the valley. She blinked against the falling snow and took in the small town that was to be her home and was unimpressed.

  She certainly wasn’t in Charleston anymore.

  A deep inhaled breath to clear the musty smell of multiple bodies crammed into a too-small stagecoach filled her lungs with the scent of woodsmoke, and surprisingly, clean, fresh air. It wasn’t the salt-tinged sea breezes she was used to but it was pleasant all the same.

  She saw very few people on the wooden walkways in front of the buildings but those she did see were staring at them as if they were some sort of spectacle. She supposed they were. Their brightly colored dresses stood out amongst the garments of the people on the sidewalks. Most of the ladies she saw were in simple gingham dresses, unadorned boots, and close-fitting bonnets that covered so much of their head she could barely see their faces.

  The town was eerily quiet. The sound of gulls flying over the harbor was missing, as were the sounds of horses and carriages traveling over cobblestone streets. All she heard here was the occasional voice, wind as it whistled through the valley and every so often, the ting of a blacksmith’s hammer. It seemed like a ghost town compared to Charleston. That gnawing feeling in her gut telling her she’d made a mistake in following her friends in this crazy adventure ached anew. Perhaps she should have never left South Carolina. Her father told her she was being foolish and she hated to admit, he may have been right.

  “This way ladies. Someone will see to your bags and make sure they get to where they need to be.”

  Julia turned as she saw the others start walking away and only half-heard what the man escorting them from the stagecoach station said. She followed quietly, tiptoeing through the snow to prevent her kid boots from getting wet and was glad when their small party stepped onto the wooden sidewalk that ran in front of the buildings lining the street.

  Her stomach grew more queasy with each step and by the time she stopped in front of a small church, she was praying her meager lunch stayed down.

  She was the last to ascend the steps leading into the building and found it was quite warm inside and pleasantly quaint. Several men stood by a fireplace built into one of the sidewalls and those nervous butterflies returned the moment they all turned to look at them. Somewhere in that group of men was her new husband, a stranger she was to give herself to freely. She suddenly felt ill.

  The next several minutes consisted of introductions and Julia had the sensation of being outside herself. As if she was watching from some great distance. It was fatigue. She knew it was when she couldn’t even remember walking to the front of the church and joining hands with a complete stranger about to marry him.

  She heard her friends talking quietly to their soon to be husbands and sneaked a peek up at her groom. The instant she did, her heart started to race.

  Don’t be fooled by his good looks, Julia. He could be deranged and end up killing you. Or you could die out here in the middle of nowhere by freezing to death. Or be eaten by some wild animal. You could be taken by Indians or trampled by wild horses!

  Julia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves. The scent of burning wood from the fireplace filled her head, along with the faint smell of gun oil and fresh cut cedar, the last two clinging to the man in front of her.

  The small sounds the others were making and the soft ping of sleet as it hit the church did nothing to distract her from the “what-ifs” whispering through her head on repeat. She opened her eyes and stared at her hands held in the firm grip of a man she knew nothing about other than his name.

  The preacher, Reverend Tilly, was fumbling his way through their marriage ceremony and she listened with half an ear. She knew her duties as a wife. She was to love, cherish and obey her husband and she’d try her best to do just that—eventually. Once she knew who this stra
nger in front of her was.

  “Miss Julia?”

  She blinked and focused her attention on the reverend. “Yes?”

  “Do you take this man as your husband?”

  “Oh!” She took a peek over her shoulder to find her friends looking at her. Her face heated as she said, “Yes, I do.” Julia peeked up at her soon to be husband, Matthew Bailey, he’d introduced himself as, and felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight as she briefly met his gaze. He certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

  A mail-order bride could end up with any sort of man and the man her mind conjured had been old, possibly poor as dirt, and skinny to boot. Her friends had reassured her that wouldn’t be the case and she was glad to see they had been right. Seeing this man step forward and say her name had nearly caused her knees to buckle. Matthew Bailey didn’t fit the picture she’d painted in her mind of her future husband at all. He wasn’t old, nor was he skinny, and to her great surprise, was quite possibly the best-looking man she’d ever seen.

  Which made those nervous butterflies all the worse. He was too good to be true. Her luck was never this good. Something was bound to go wrong.

  She peeked a glance up at him again. He was staring at her, his blue eyes taking in every inch of her face. Of all the men who showed up to marry them, Matthew was the most handsome—at least she thought so. Not that the others were unpleasant to look at, Matthew Bailey just seemed—more. More rugged. Stronger built. More—manly.

  Maybe it was the breadth of his shoulders or the close-cut beard or the work-worn calluses she could feel on the palm of his hands. Or maybe she was so used to men in fancy dress suits with tailored vests that seeing a man in simple trousers and a long-sleeved shirt made him appear to be more—brawny.

  And yet—she was going to marry the brute. What if he was mean? He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. He could—

  “I do.”

  His voice drew her from her thoughts. She inhaled a deep breath, let it out and took another. Breathe, Julia. Everything will be all right.

  “You may kiss your bride.”

  Julia raised her eyes, meeting Matthew’s gaze and when he just stood there staring at her, she wondered if he was having the same doubts she was.

  Long seconds ticked by before he leaned toward her, that kiss the preacher said he could give her moments away, and Julia didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he kissed her on the cheek.

  Her heart started pounding as she took a breath. He gave her hands a small squeeze and said, “I don’t wish to rush you but there’s a storm blowing in and we have a long ride back to the house. You need to say goodbye to your friends so we can be on our way.”

  The parting was bittersweet. Her girlfriends all seemed to be happy. If they were as nervous as she was, they hid it well. There were more than a few tears shed but she was cheered up by the knowledge that Anna would at least be close by. She lived outside of town, as Matthew said he did. The others would all be within walking distance of each other. She envied them for that. They wouldn’t feel as isolated as she already did. They’d have each other for support and she’d have—she turned her head to where her new husband stood by the door. He was watching her.

  She gave Anna a tight hug, then embraced Sarah, Charity, and Ruby each in turn and told them she’d see them as soon as she was able.

  Then she faced her husband and crossed the room to where he stood.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She tried to smile but failed miserably as he helped her into her cloak. When she’d secured it, he opened the door, a blast of cold air hitting her so fast she shivered. Once again, she was reminded she wasn’t in South Carolina anymore and knew by the time winter was over, she’d be homesick for the milder temperatures she was used to.

  The light dusting of snow that had been on the ground when they arrived had deepened. Matthew took her hand and helped her down the slick steps and to the waiting wagon. The carpet bag she’d used to store her things in while traveling was sitting in the back and several blankets were stacked on the seat.

  In all her twenty-two years of life, she’d never ridden in an open wagon. She’d seen her share of the inside of carriages and surreys but this plain wooden wagon was so—ordinary.

  Life as she’d known it was about to change drastically.

  Matthew helped her onto the seat and Julia sat nervously as he walked around to the other side and climbed up to sit beside her. He lifted one of the blankets and opened it, offering it to her before taking the reins in hand—and then they were moving.

  Julia covered her legs with the blanket then looked back at the church. The others were coming outside and her heart clenched painfully in her chest seeing them. They’d been together for so long now. Leaving them felt so—final.

  “You’ll see them again, I promise. I’ll not keep you from them.”

  Her bright green eyes locked with his for a brief moment. With effort, Matt tore his gaze from her and stared at the snow-covered road.

  The screaming matches he’d had with his sister over the past week replayed inside his head as the gentle clomp of the horse’s hooves churned up dirty snow and ice. Those fights seemed a bit childish now.

  He’d balked at the idea of a mail-order bride the moment Prudence told him about it and once he found out she’d sent away for one without his knowledge, he’d yelled, cussed, and threatened to choke the life out of her. But the moment he got his first look at those women, he’d had to rethink his plans of torturing Prudence for the rest of her life.

  The women who stepped inside that church looked nothing like what he expected them to. If the expression on the other men’s faces were any indication, those ladies weren’t what they had envisioned them to be either.

  Any woman desperate enough to pick a husband from a paper did so because she had no other prospects and likely never would, but the five ladies that traveled all the way from South Carolina to marry left them all speechless. They weren’t bedraggled or homely. They were—well, too fancy for Angel Creek and he’d studied them all, bewildered, wondering which one was to be his new wife—and forgot all about telling her there had been a mistake, that he couldn’t marry her after all. No, he’d said his new bride’s name and when the tall one with dark hair took a step forward and locked eyes with him, he’d forgotten how to breathe. He might still be mad at Prudence for deceiving him but he couldn’t be mad at how the entire ordeal ended. What man would when his new wife was simply—breathtaking.

  Matthew glanced over at her. She looked half frozen. He picked up another blanket, opened it and draped it around her shoulders, something in his chest pulling tight when she gave him a small smile and said, “Thank you.”

  She pulled the blanket in tight around her slim frame. Julia was tall for a woman, not that he minded. He’d kissed his share of girls when he was younger and being over six-foot-tall meant every single time he did, he’d had to bend nearly double. When he’d placed a soft kiss to Julia’s cheek in the church, he’d only had to lower his head. It was a nice change, so was her voice. She was soft-spoken, the cadence making her seem as delicate as she appeared. She was lovely and as much as he hated to admit it, for once, Prudence had been right. He was indeed pleased with his new bride.

  The extra blanket Matthew placed around her shoulders warmed her in only a few minutes. Other than her thanking him, neither had said a word and the silence was deafening. It gave Julia time to reflect on her journey from Charleston, though, and she was still questioning her decision to come out west. Even more so now as the wind felt like it was cutting her to the bone and the snow that was falling didn’t look to be letting up. If anything, it was falling harder, the path they were taking slowly disappearing under several inches of fresh powder.

  This certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting. When Charity arrived at their weekly sewing circle with a copy of the Groom’s Gazette in hand, she’d thought her friend had been teasing them about wanting t
o be a mail-order bride—until she saw the determination in her eyes. She’d been quite serious and it didn’t take long for the others to sit up straight and listen to her idea intently. By the time Charity told them of her plan, they’d all been excited, rambling on about what an adventure it would be, and when everyone turned to her, for one brief moment, she’d thought they’d all lost their minds.

  Then reality sank in.

  They weren’t getting any younger and the prospects in Charleston were next to nothing now that much of the city was in ruins and most of the eligible young men hadn’t come home after the war ended. There was nothing left for her there, for any of them, really. Unless she wanted to grow old and become a spinster, she had no choice.

  They’d all been happy when she agreed to join them—under the condition they all went to the same place. She got her wish, but as the wagon traveled over the bumpy road further away from town, she realized she should have been more specific. They were all in the same town but she wasn’t going to live anywhere near them. What would become of their weekly sewing circle now?

  She pulled the blanket Matthew placed over her shoulders tighter around her and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. Would he take her into town every week? For some reason, she doubted it, so didn’t ask. She supposed there was time for such conversations later.

  The trip across the prairie seemed to take forever. They passed very few houses and every minute that ticked by took her further away from the others. The road up ahead forked in two different directions. Matthew steered the wagon toward the right. The worn tracks from numerous wagons traveling the same path weren’t as heavy here.