RNWMP_Bride for Curtis Read online

  RNWMP: Bride for Curtis

  Mail Order Mounties: Northwest Territories

  Cassie Hayes

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Also by Cassie Hayes

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Caitlyn Hennessy prides herself on being an independent modern woman, but she still needs a job to pay the rent. When she loses hers and can’t find another, she discovers she only has three choices: Take a job at a company she detests, find a husband, or become a nun, as her mother hopes. Which really leaves her with only one choice — to pay a visit to Miss Hazel Hughes, Mountie Matchmaker Extraordinaire.

  Life would be complete once Curtis Lange took a wife, he just knew it. When a fellow Mountie suggests finding brides through an old lady from Ottawa, Curtis signs up immediately. Finally he would have someone to cook and clean for him, just like his mother!

  When Caitlyn learns her new groom only wants a glorified maid, her Irish temper flares and sparks fly. She has her own interests in life, such as art, gardening and trying to convince Curtis to become a vegetarian, like her. But Curtis wants none of it and believes his wife should want nothing more than to take care of him.

  Maybe Miss Hazel got this match wrong.

  We hope you are enjoying the Mail Order Mounties Series. All of the books are works of fiction, and the stories completely created by the authors of the series.

  While we have done our best to be historically accurate, there are certain pieces of history we’ve had to take “creative license” with to help make our stories come alive. In truth, it wouldn’t have been likely for a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police to have a mail order bride, and in many cases, wouldn’t have lived in such close proximity to other members.

  However, for the purposes of our stories, we wanted to create a world that showcased the history of Canada during the early 1900s while also bringing you stories that would combine the talents of the authors involved.

  1

  Caitlyn Hennessy’s green eyes bounced between her parents as they waited for her to muster the courage to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. After all her railing a few months earlier about being a modern, independent, twentieth century woman, here she sat, begging for help.

  Mortifying!

  She pulled her teacup to her lips to bide more time, but her hand trembled so violently, she set the cup back in its saucer. It was a miracle it didn’t chip when it clattered back into place. Clearing her throat for the hundredth time, Caitlyn rolled her shoulders and braced herself for abject humiliation.

  “Mam, Da, I need some help.”

  Her parents shot each other a glance. Her father spoke first.

  “What kind of help, Cait?”

  “I…” Caitlyn looked down at her lap, where her nervous fingers twisted up the napkin this way and that. “I no longer have a job.”

  Her mother gasped. “You were fired?!”

  “No, not exactly. Mr. Abercrombie is retiring from accounting and moving to Ibiza. I was rather hoping he’d still want his best secretary to go along with him, but…apparently with no business, he will have no need for a secretary.”

  “I see,” her mother said, her lips pressing into a thin, disapproving line.

  Caitlyn’s gaze dropped to her anxious hands again. As much as she prided herself on not giving a hang about what others thought of her, deep down she’d always craved her parents’ approval. Her defiance of their wishes — or rather, her mother’s wishes — had been almost more than she’d been able to bear, but not even a teeny, tiny part of her had ever wanted to become a nun.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Cait,” her father said, leaning back to watch her carefully…waiting for her to continue, apparently.

  “As you know, I spent my meager savings on moving into the flat with Lisa and Andrea. Mr. Abercrombie gave me a week’s wages as severance, but that’s not nearly enough for rent.” She paused to let that sink in before dropping the big bomb. “Which is due next week.”

  It was her father’s turn to say, “I see.”

  Caitlyn’s face burned as she prepared to pose the question she’d sworn she’d never ask of her parents. Her voice caught again, but she pressed on.

  “I was hoping you might lend me next month’s rent while I look for a new position.” Their eyes grew wide and before they could object, she added, “Mr. Abercrombie wrote me a glowing reference, so I’m sure it won’t take long.”

  Mam and Da exchanged another meaning-laden glance, as if they were communicating without words. Caitlyn had gone to a psychic once on an outing with her flatmates and had promptly regretted wasting the ten cents her silly reading had cost. The woman should have taken lessons from Caitlyn’s parents.

  “Cait,” her father started, his voice tinged with regret and shame — not for himself, but for her. “You, Molly and Colleen may have left the house, but we still have twelve other children to raise. You’d be surprised how little is saved going from a household of seventeen to a household of fourteen. We don’t have a penny to spare, much less a full month’s rent.”

  “Oh,” Caitlyn said, disappointment crushing her to a flattened mess. Then another thought occurred to her. “Then could I—“

  “No,” her mother said flatly.

  “But I didn’t even fin—“

  “You didn’t need to. You want to move back in, and the answer is no.”

  Da’s expression softened as he looked at his wife, but Mam shook her head with resolve. Caitlyn could see in her mother’s eyes there’d be no going back. Her mind was set, and once Mam’s mind was set, not even God himself could move her.

  “Caitlyn, I love you. More than you will know, until you have children of your own. As any good mother should, I love all my children equally, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t broken my heart. Molly’s choice to go against generations of family tradition nearly killed me. I’m sure you remember.”

  How could she forget? Molly’s sudden disappearance six months earlier had first brought fears of the worst kind to the family’s thoughts. When they’d finally received word she’d run away to Alberta to marry a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police — a man she’d never met — their mother had been inconsolable.

  She’d screamed and sobbed and shouted and prayed, begging the Lord to bring her daughter back to fulfill her familial duty to join the Convent of the Sisters of Redemption. Then she’d grown angry. So angry, she’d disowned Molly for a short time. She’d even refused to attend Mass one Sunday just to avoid Mother Superior, who’d encouraged Molly to follow her heart.

  “Then Colleen had followed in her footsteps,” Mam continued, sniffing back her disapproval.

  Caitlyn didn’t think it wise to point out that Mam had turned to pestering Colleen about joining the sisterhood herself. When Colleen’s job had been threatened if she didn’t stop talking so much — an impossible feat — she’d made the brash decision to seek out the help of Miss Hazel Hughes, the local woman who prided herself in matchmaking Mounties with their perfect brides and who’d helped Molly find her husband, Easton.

  On that day, Mam had set her sights on Caitlyn. She’d been much less vocal, but her not-so-subtle hints about all the security and honor joining the order would give Caitlyn fell on deaf ears. Just like her sisters, Caitlyn had no desire to become a nun.

  “Then when you insisted you were an independent
woman, a suffragette no less,” her mother said with a sigh.

  “Not a suffragette, Mam,” Caitlyn corrected. “A suffragist.”

  Her parents obstinately refused to acknowledge the difference between the more militant suffragettes and the more peaceful suffragists, but Caitlyn would never stop pointing out the difference. Just like she’d never stop campaigning for women to be granted the right to vote, but not to the point of breaking laws.

  Mam waved away her comment. “I’ve made my peace with the fact you’ve all rejected our family tradition. Mother Superior helped guide me through that difficult time. I’ve done the Christian thing and forgiven you all for being so bull-headed.”

  Caitlyn dropped her eyes to her hands again, but this time they were fisting the napkin so tightly she was surprised it didn’t dissolve into dust. Mam should be asking for their forgiveness for trying to push her desires on her daughters, as if each of them didn’t have the right to pursue their own interests.

  “I’ve even been corresponding with Molly and Colleen on a regular basis, and you come to family dinner much more frequently than I ever expected, once you moved out.”

  Food wasn’t cheap, as Caitlyn had learned once she’d moved into her shared flat. As a devout vegetarian, her food expenses were much cheaper than her two flatmates’, but food costs still ate up her paycheck all too quickly. So any time one of the fourteen remaining Hennessys invited her to dinner — whether or not her parents knew — Caitlyn accepted.

  “Dear,” her mother said, taking her hand and staring into her eyes with love and disappointment, “you have a mind of your own, and I accept that. Which is why you can never move back home.”

  “But—“

  “No, you made your choice, Caitlyn. Now you must live with it. It’s called being an adult.”

  Caitlyn turned pleading eyes on her father. “Da?”

  He grimaced, then nodded. “Mam’s right, Cait. Part of being an adult is learning how to take care of yourself once you leave the nest.”

  Her chest tightened, fear now mixing with the nerves and shame. They were serious!

  “From where I sit, you have three choices,” her mother said gently, as if she wasn’t stomping all over Caitlyn’s heart. “Find another job, get married or…well, I’m sure Mother Superior would love to welcome you into the order.”

  Caitlyn blinked away tears, hoping she hadn’t heard right, or they’d laugh and tell her they were simply teasing her, but their stricken expressions told her that was a silly fantasy. Just like thinking she could live life on her own terms as a modern woman.

  “B-but I can’t find another job,” she said so quietly she could barely hear herself. “I’ve inquired about secretarial positions all over Ottawa, but no one’s hiring.”

  “Say, I know a place that’s looking for a good secretary,” Da said, his face brightening. “The owner and I are old pals from a long ways back.”

  “Really?” Hope flared inside her. At this point, she’d take anything.

  “Yes, John Houston owns the Great Northern Fur Company. He’d hire you in a trice, if I recommended you.”

  Caitlyn recoiled as if her father had slapped her. “Fur? I can’t work there!”

  “Why not?” he asked, obviously bewildered.

  Her mother looked just as perplexed. Caitlyn shook her head and reminded herself that she couldn’t expect everyone to think the same way she did.

  “Because I’m a vegetarian, remember?”

  Mam snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, that?”

  “Yes, that! Always that. I don’t eat animals, how could you expect me to work for a man who kills them for a living? It would be like asking me to work at an abattoir!”

  Her father scowled at her stubbornness. “Then I guess you only have two choices.”

  The tears began to spill and Caitlyn couldn’t stand looking at their disapproving expressions a moment longer. Lurching out of her seat, she ran for the door, half-expecting one of them to call after her.

  They didn’t.

  Once she was a block away, she slowed to a walk and caught her breath. At twenty-four, she’d felt she was more than ready to move out of the family home, especially since she had no suitors. Well, no suitors that interested her. Plenty of men thought she was attractive, but the twentieth century was such an exciting time for women, and Caitlyn wanted to explore as much as life offered for as long as she could.

  As the last of her tears dried, Caitlyn pondered her less-than-exciting options and wondered if her parents were right. She had no interest in any of the men who’d tried in vain to pursue her, and only slightly more than no interest in joining the convent. As Mam so often pointed out, she’d have room and board for life, and no need to worry about money.

  But she’d be a nun. She’d never fall in love with her very own Prince Charming and she’d never have the big family she’d always dreamed of. The very thought nearly brought her to her knees, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

  Caitlyn stopped at the next cross street and wondered what to do. Looking to her left, she saw the spires of the cathedral stretching into the sky. To the right, a row of respectable homes inhabited by equally respectable people.

  One in particular.

  Miss Hazel Hughes.

  Curtis Lange couldn’t stop grinning. Finally, after years of wandering around Canada as a proud Mountie, he was about to enter into the bonds of holy matrimony and his life would be complete. Well, almost complete. In a year — nine months, if he had his druthers — he and his new wife would have a baby and then his life would be complete.

  Of course, first he had to actually meet his bride.

  He glanced over at Richard and winked. If it hadn’t been for his fellow Mountie’s insistence on writing to some old lady in Ottawa, Curtis might never have known mail-order brides were even an option. He’d moved around so much while in the service, he’d never imagined a woman would want to marry a Mountie. Turns out, they were dying to!

  Glancing the other way, he saw his other team mate, Liam, hastily picking flowers for his bride. Curtis felt a twinge of guilt over teasing the poor chap for not bringing a pretty bouquet, as had he and Richard. Liam had been the most nervous of the three men sending away for brides and Curtis had just made him even more anxious.

  Spilled milk, as his mother used to say.

  “How’re you holding up?” asked George Jacob, the commander of the Flying Squirrel station in the Northwest Territories.

  “Me? Great! Just wish that train would hurry up already.”

  George shook his head. “Patience, son. The engineer is just slowing down gradually so your new lady won’t step off the train with a smooshed nose. Or worse yet, a smooshed hat!”

  “That’s just what I need,” Curtis said, laughing. “Actually, I do need a new hat. One made of beaver. One particular beaver, in fact.”

  “Let me guess,” the older man said, tapping his chin as if he was actually pondering which beaver Curtis might be talking about. “Could this beaver be missing an ear, perchance?”

  “I’m telling you, George, if that varmint dams up the river one more time…”

  “You’ll what? Cut off his other ear?”

  Curtis laughed and cracked his gum. “No, I’ll use him for target practice.”

  “I don’t think you need the practice, Curtis. That moose you took a few weeks back was a heckuva shot. I never could have made it.”

  Curtis beamed with pride. He’d waited all day in a makeshift blind until a big bull ambled along. He’d never made a kill from such a large distance, but he’d wanted to put up enough meat so his new wife wouldn’t have to scrounge when making his dinner. He’d grown rather fond of moose meat since being transferred to the Northwest Territories and hoped his city bride would feel the same.

  “I just hope Caitlyn is as impressed as you, George.”

  George slapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder. He’d become something of a second father to Curtis, bu
t George never treated his much younger subordinates like children. They all appreciated that about him.

  “You better hope she’s impressed by a whole lotta other things, son. Or more to the point, you’ll want to drop habits that might not impress her.”

  Curtis frowned and cracked his gum again, unaware of any bad habits he might possess. “Such as?”

  “That right there. Cracking that gum of yours drives the rest of the world to distraction. You should spit that out right now and never pop another piece.”

  Curtis balked. “Aww, not my Wrigley’s!”

  “I’m going to guess you never chewed your gum like that in front of your mother.”

  “I didn’t start chewing it till after I joined up. Kept me awake on late-night watches, then it just became a habit.”

  “Bad habit,” Richard said as he joined the two men. “Bad as smoking, if you ask me.”

  “No! It makes my breath smell minty fresh, not like the butt of a cigarette.”

  “Well,” George said, grinning at Curtis, “I can’t argue with that. Just hope your wife agrees.”

  “She will,” Curtis said with confidence, but he spit the gum out onto the tracks just the same. “My mother supported my father in everything he did, and I expect my bride will be the same.”

  George suffered a sudden coughing fit so Curtis slapped him on the back. “You okay, George?”

  “Fine,” George choked out, his lips curving up in what looked like a grin, but must have been a grimace. What did the man have to grin about?

  Once he knew George wasn’t going to choke to death, Curtis continued as they all anxiously watched the train ease toward the platform.

  “I can’t wait to finally have a helpmate who will do all the cleaning and cooking and women’s work. Men aren’t cut out for such chores.”