“I see you, girl! Drop it!”

Rebecca dug her fingers into the loaf of bread and jerked her hand back, turning to push her way through the crowd. She cut across the aisle to the stall behind her and ran out into the adjacent street.

“Thief! Stop her!”

As usual, the baker chased her. Rebecca grinned and turned right when she reached the Market Hall and pushed through those people still trying to get inside, a chorus of shouts following in her wake.

As she did most days she snatched something to eat from the market, she kept running and cut down Wentworth back to Bay Street and didn’t stop until she felt like she was going to drop. She slowed down to catch her breath and looked over her shoulder, her eyes widening when she saw the baker still chasing her. “What in the world…”

He never chased her this far. She started running again, dodging the road traffic as she crossed the street. A wagon filled with an assortment of things sat along the edge of the road. Rebecca jumped into it, scurrying toward the front. Before she could find something to cover herself with, the wagon jolted and started moving. “Well, that’s even better.”

She settled back against a sack of grain and watched the pudgy baker chase after her. She smiled as the wagon picked up speed and threw her hand up to wave bye to him. She still didn't know his name. Not that it mattered.

The wagon stopped near the train station. She jumped out and found a shady spot to sit underneath an old tree with a wide grassy area. Her loaf of bread was still whole, only suffering large indents from where her fingers were still gripping it.

Her stomach growled, the hunger pain that followed it enough to bend her double. She tore off a piece of the bread and sighed the moment it hit her tongue. It wasn’t as warm now, but the seeds and nuts baked inside of it made up for it. Leaning back against the tree, she sighed and ate another sizable chunk of the bread.

A chill wind blew down the street as she sat there. Rebecca pulled her threadbare cloak around her shoulders. Clouds were moving in. She’d have to find shelter soon or end up spending another night cold and wet. As much as she’d hated living in the orphanage, at least there she’d had a dry bed to sleep in. The thin mattress had been hard and the blankets always smelled musty, but she’d never had to worry about moisture from the ground seeping into her clothing. There were days she wished she was still a child. Being an adult was hard when you were homeless with no family.

Commotion down the street drew her attention. When she turned her head to see what was happening, she froze. The baker was still running. “Oh, for goodness sakes, old man!”

She jumped to her feet, shoving the bread into the bag she wore across her chest and ran toward the train station. As usual, a multitude of people lingered inside the building, and blending in wasn’t hard. She walked through the station toward the tracks and sat on a bench with an old woman who gave her a sneer before standing up and walking away.

"Yeah, I didn't want to sit near you either, lady." Rebecca reached into her bag and tore another chunk of the bread off the loaf, then crammed it into her mouth. She watched as Charleston’s elite scurried around the train station until she'd caught her breath, then stood and headed toward the rails instead of back to the street.

The number of people waiting to board the train was more than usual. She turned left to skirt around them, but gasped when someone grabbed her arm, her head snapping back when she was jerked to a stop.

“I got you now, girl!”

Rebecca stared up at the baker, shock rendering her speechless. He’d never run this far, and he had never caught her. Not once. Her shock turned to desperation to get away in a blink of an eye. “Let go of me,” she shouted as she struggled to pull away from him.

“You’ve stolen your last from me, you gutter rat.” He yelled to someone over his shoulder. “Officer! I have her.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened when she saw two men moving their way. She yanked on her arm, slapping at the baker’s hand where he held onto her and pulled away from him on the third try. She ran, ignoring the shouts of people she pushed aside and pulled her cloak and hat off so the baker wouldn’t recognize her in the crowd as she went. Wrapping them up in her hands, she pushed her way through those standing near the train and stopped when she bumped into someone. The girl reached out and grabbed onto her to keep from falling and smiled when she was stable. She didn’t look much older than she was, and Rebecca glanced behind her as the girl started talking.

“Ran all the way here, did you?”

Rebecca huffed for breath, her eyes widening when she saw the baker. She turned to face the train, hoping he’d not see her. “Something like that.”

The girl laughed. “I was almost late too. A case of nerves had me second-guessing everything but, here I am!”

The baker was yelling now. Rebecca ducked her head and bent as if tying the lace on her boot and sucked in a breath, holding it until he passed.

She took a quick glance over her shoulder when she straightened. The group of ladies she was standing amongst were all taller than her, and she hoped their height was enough for the baker to overlook her. The girl she’d bumped into touched her arm. “I’m Hazel Jenkins.”

Rebecca stared at her for a moment before leaning up on her toes to see where the baker was. He stood in the middle of the crowd, his head turning left then right. She lowered her head again and shoved her hat and cloak into her bag.

“What’s yours?”

“Huh?” she said when the girl bumped her arm with her elbow. Rebecca focused on her, Hazel, she’d said her name was and blinked.

“Let’s go, ladies! I have a schedule to keep.” A man near the door glanced at a paper in his hand before looking at Hazel. “Where are the others?”

A chorus of women said, “Here,” as Hazel started bouncing on her feet. “Oh my goodness, I’m so excited I can’t stand it!” She grabbed Rebecca’s arm and started pulling her toward the train. “Let’s go. We can be riding companions. We can sit together on the stagecoach too unless you’re traveling by steamboat.”

Steamboat?

Pushed and shoved, then pulled by Hazel, Rebecca found herself at the train door, the man who'd been talking to them calling out names and handing tickets to the ladies who answered. When he was down to one, he shoved it into her hand.

Hazel climbed the steps ahead of her and said, "I'll save you a seat," before vanishing around the corner.

The paper and accompanying tickets had very little information on it. Rebecca saw Atlanta, then St. Louis, and The River Princess. Was that the steamboat Hazel mentioned? There was also a name on it. Diana Hale. She wondered who she was and where she was going. Was she standing in this massive crowd waiting to board the train and looking to receive her ticket?

"You're holding up the line." The train conductor was staring down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Get on board if you're going. If not, move out of the way."

Rebecca stared up at the train. Could she get on and stow away to some unknown place with someone else's ticket? A hand against her back pushed her closer to the train.

You could. She bit her lip and stared at the ticket. Someone pushed her again.

“Let’s go, lady!”

Rebecca snorted a laugh. Lady. There wasn’t anything ladylike about her.

Just get on and jump out the other side.

Or take a seat.

When she was pushed again, Rebecca grabbed onto the handrail and hoisted herself up. At only five feet tall, it was an enormous step.

She'd only been on a train once in all her life, and that had been to get out of the rain. A private car with benches piled high with the softest cushions she'd ever felt gave her the best night’s sleep she’d ever had. She’d fallen asleep within minutes, sleeping like a baby clean through the night. The conductor had found her right before dawn and ran her off, telling her to never come back.

This train car wasn't as fancy as the one she'd slept in, but it was still nice. Rebecca stared down the aisle, taking in the shiny wooden interior. Row after row of seats lined the walls. There were no soft cushions, but everything was pristine and new. It even smelled clean, something she was sure she did not.

"Over here!" Hazel waved at her, motioning her forward.

Rebecca glanced out the window, her heart skipping a beat when she saw two uniformed officers and the baker staring at the train.

The door across from her led to more tracks. Could she get off without being seen? The ticket in your hand will be more freedom than that door will.

She studied the ticket again. She'd never been out of Charleston her entire miserable life. Maybe a change of scenery was what she needed. A new start somewhere no one knew her.

Hazel patting the seat beside her brought her head back up. Staying on the train would be the fastest way to get away from the baker, and maybe getting caught was a sign. As horrible a life that she'd led, she still believed in fate. No matter what happened to her, she knew things happened exactly as they should.

Was getting on this train one of those defining moments meant to set her on an alternative path?

It was possible. Heaven knew life here in the city was no picnic and with it getting colder, she was facing another winter spent peeking into the windows of the houses near the bay, longing for things she'd never have. How many days had she spent staring into those houses, knowing the people inside them were warm and well-fed and had more money than they'd ever know what to do with? She'd never be rich, but maybe in a new city, she'd be more than a lonely orphan known only as Rebecca—the girl who lived under the bridge.

She gave Hazel a tentative smile and took the seat beside her before glancing out the window. The baker and the two officers were making their way through the crowd again, still searching for her, she assumed. A single tie held the small curtain above the window up. She pulled on it until it fell, covering the window and concealing her behind it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head back, closing her eyes while trying to calm her racing heart.

More ladies crammed inside the train car. Hazel’s high pitched voice rang out over the commotion happening on the street as she greeted each one. This girl talked faster than those fake doctors who tried to sell their miracle medicines out of the back of their wagons.

Long minutes passed as Hazel and several other women talked, all going to different cities, it seemed.

“Are you all right?”

Hazel’s soft voice and a small nudge against her arm brought her eyes open. Rebecca straightened in her seat. “Yes, I’m fine.” She smiled at the others when they all sat staring at her.

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” Hazel laughed. “If so, it’ll pass. I was so wound up last night I couldn’t sleep. I’ll nod off at some point so give me a good poke if I start to snore.”

“Okay.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

She glanced at the ticket in her hand. The fear she'd run into Diana Hale on the train made her fold it in half and cram it into her bag. “It’s Rebecca.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you, Rebecca. Maybe we’ll end up living near one another.”

“Perhaps.” The other three ladies introduced themselves, the back and forth between them and Hazel enough to make her sit up and listen. Curiosity wasn’t a friend of hers. It always got her into trouble, but as Hazel and the others started talking about stagecoaches and steamboats, a barrage of questions filled her mind.

The train jolted, then started to move. Where was Diana Hale going? Asking anything about this trip would let the others know she wasn’t a part of their little group, so she said nothing. The chatter was constant and Rebecca only half-listened as she peeked out the window, grinning as they left the station and the baker behind.

“Do you have someone waiting or are you just going hoping to find a match?”

The question came from the woman with blonde ringlets who sat across from her. She didn’t remember what her name was. She hadn’t cared enough at the time to remember. “I’m sorry, what?”

The blonde smiled. “I said do you have someone waiting or are you just trying your luck?”

Waiting for what?

Rebecca bit her lip and pondered the question, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. The brunette sitting beside the blonde piped in with, “I’m just trying my luck. I was told it wouldn’t be a problem.”

The blonde nodded as the others said they had someone waiting. When they all turned to her again, she froze. “Um...I’m hoping to get lucky, too.”

Hazel shook her head. “You’re so much braver than I am, Rebecca. I can’t imagine traveling so far with no proper plan.”

How far were they traveling? “Oh, well, I like to live dangerously.” The others laughed at the remark. She wondered if they’d still be laughing if they knew they were sitting beside a thief? One glance should have told them something wasn't right. Her dress was so threadbare, it was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart yet. The frocks the others were wearing were all fancy getups like those hoity-toity ladies who lived down by the battery wore. The upper class looked down their nose at anyone below their station, but those inside the stagecoach, despite being dressed in the latest fashion, didn’t seem to care that she was dirt poor. Maybe they were as poor as she was and hid it behind yards of clean fabric sewn up into the latest style.

Her stomach rumbled as the voices of those in the city grew more distant. She dug into her old canvas bag for the loaf of bread she’d stolen and sighed when she found it. The loaf was crushed flat. Not that it mattered. It would still taste the same.

She tore off a piece, noticing her hand was shaking as she brought it to her mouth. It was little wonder. When was the last time she’d eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Long enough for her limbs to shake. Now that she thought about it, that had to be why the baker had caught her. She’d not been as fast today as she usually was.

Rebecca tore another chunk of bread off the loaf and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, she noticed how quiet it was. A glance up made her pause. The others were staring at her, Hazel’s eyes on the loaf of bread. Rebecca swallowed the piece in her mouth with an audible gulp and held the rest up. “Did you want some? It’s a little crushed, but it’s still good.”

Hazel shook her head and glanced at the other ladies before giving her a tiny smile. “No, thank you. I had a large breakfast.”

Rebecca had been around enough people to see pity in more than one eye, and it was now shining in Hazel’s. She hated that look. It made her feel like she was—less. Less than human and undeserving. She was homeless, but she was still a decent person. Well, she was a thief, but she was still nice. She shared her stolen food with others in need when she could, and that had to account for something, right?

They were all staring at her now. She shoved the bread back into her bag and dusted crumbs from her skirt. “I must look ridiculous shoving all that into my mouth like that." She forced a laugh and kept her eyes downcast. “I was late getting up, so I threw on the first thing I saw, grabbed the loaf of bread, and ran all the way to the station.” She glanced over at Hazel. “I ran Hazel over in my haste.”

Hazel nodded. “It’s true. She was huffing for breath when she bumped into me.”

The lie seemed to have worked. The ladies went back to talking as if they hadn’t even been interrupted, and now that they'd left Charleston behind, Rebecca lifted the curtain over the window and tied it back up. She didn't know where she was going, but for the first time in forever, she looked forward to tomorrow. Thanks to Diana Hale, she had a brand new life waiting for her somewhere other than Charleston and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.

Chapter Two

Caleb yanked at his tie, untwisting it before trying again. He hadn’t put one on in so long, he couldn't remember how to make the knots. He sighed in frustration after his fourth failed attempt and pulled it from his neck. "The tie is too much, anyway."

Tossing it to the bed, he straightened his suit jacket and studied his reflection in the mirror. He'd not bothered with his appearance in years. He still shaved when he needed to and had his hair cut once a month, but other than that, what he looked like didn't even cross his mind. Today it did.

As he'd done since the day it arrived, he grabbed the letter from his soon-to-be bride. He read it again and ignored his anxiety and apprehension about the entire arrangement. Why had he let his mother talk him into this?

"How do I look?"

Amanda stood at the door, holding out the skirt of her new dress. He smiled. Now he remembered. He'd done it for her.

"Do you think she'll like me?"

"She's not fit to be my wife if she doesn't. And to answer your question, you're the prettiest girl in all of Angel Creek."

Amanda beamed at the compliment. As much as he'd been dreading the arrival of his mail-order bride, his daughter had been beside herself with anticipation. She'd talked of little else since the letter arrived three months earlier, saying she was coming.

He glanced at the crumpled pieces of paper his bride had sent him. Diana Hale sounded pleasant enough. She was tall for a woman and according to her, stick-thin with hair in a boring shade of brown. But she'd been a governess to a family in Charleston and was an accomplished cook, which meant his daughter would be raised to be a proper young lady and fed more than the bland meals he set on their supper table. She could read and write and knew how to sew. On paper, Diana Hale was the perfect wife. He only wished he wanted one.

"The stagecoach just came through town."

His mother's voice carried down the hall from the other room.

Amanda bounced on her feet and clapped her hands. "Let's go, Pa ! She’ll think we're not coming if we’re not there to greet her."

Amanda grabbed his hand and pulled him from the bedroom all the way to the front door, letting him go long enough to grab her cloak and drape it around her shoulders.

His mother was in her chair by the window, watching those outside pass by the house. "I sure wish I could go with you.” She motioned Amanda over and helped her fasten her cloak. "Don't linger in town and leave an old woman to wonder what's going on down at that stagecoach station. I'll have a crick in my neck staring out that window by the time you get back." She pulled up the hood on Amanda's cloak. "Keep this up today, child, it's snowing again."

Caleb grabbed his coat and slipped it on, that knot of unease in his stomach getting larger as he hooked the buttons.

"I hope you get that look off your face before you meet your bride, Caleb, or she'll get right back on the stagecoach and leave you standing there as she waves goodbye."

He smiled and hoped it appeared genuine. "I just have a lot on my mind, mother."

"I know you do. But things will get better now. You'll have help around here so stop looking so glum."

He crossed the room and leaned down, kissing his mother's weathered cheek. "We'll be home soon."

"Hurry about it, then. I'll be fidgeting until I see you coming around the corner."

He and Amanda hurried outside. The snow he'd cleared from the steps the day before was piling up again. He'd have to add shoveling it off for the third time this week to his ever-growing list of things to do.

"Let's go,Pa!" Amanda grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward town.

He'd been dreading this day for weeks now. When his mother had talked him into ordering himself a wife from that periodical they keep down at the mercantile, he'd been in such an exhausted stupor, he'd written a letter and let Amanda run it into town with little thought. The moment he saw the stagecoach drive off with the mailbag, he'd wanted to chase it down and get his request back.

There's no backing out now.

He took smaller steps than was necessary as they headed down the street toward the stagecoach station. He'd spent so many nights wondering what Diana Hale looked like. Not that it mattered. Their agreement was simple, their marriage one of convenience, nothing more, but he'd have to present her to everyone he knew as his wife and as vain as it was, no man wanted to tie himself to a woman who wasn't pleasant in appearance, even if he had no plans of making a proper wife out of her.

He needed a wife to help him raise Amanda and take care of his mother, nothing else, and he'd said as much in his letter. Diana had wanted a more stable life without the worry she’d be homeless if her employers decided their young daughter no longer needed her. Their marriage was on paper only, her suggestion, one he agreed upon, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he hoped Diana Hale wasn't unfortunate looking.

She probably thinks the same about you. He supposed most people would when faced with the possibility of marrying someone they’ve never even seen.

The fact someone wanted a platonic marriage still shocked him, but he'd accepted her requirements, which were nothing more than a room of her own and time to see if the arrangement was suitable. He’d given her to the new year to decide. If she wasn’t happy, he’d pay for her return trip to Charleston, but he hoped she stayed. He’d spent all his savings paying for her passage all the way across the country. Where he'd find enough to send her home was beyond him. That one stipulation was the only thing that gave him pause about the entire thing, but in the end, he'd signed the papers—then regretted it in an instant. Amanda standing beside him with a big radiant smile on her face was the only reason he'd not torn it up and tossed it into the fire.

"You think she'll mind if I call her, ma?"

Caleb gave her hand a slight squeeze. "I'm not sure why she would. Once we marry, that's what she'll be."

Amanda talked nonstop all the way to town and didn't pause for a breath until they reached the stagecoach station. There were half a dozen people clustered around it, trunks and bags being tossed down to the sidewalk, and as he stood there staring at the women waiting by the station, his pulse quickened. One of those women was his future bride, and he hated the very thought of it.

"Which one do you think is her?"

Caleb studied the two women he saw on the sidewalk. Only one of them could be Diana. The brunette was tall, but she wasn't exactly thin like the letter he'd received said she was, not that it mattered. The other woman was thin, but her hair was blonde. Diana had to be the plump one.

Amanda tugged on his arm, pulling them closer. The brunette looked his way when Amanda stopped a few feet from her and his heart sank. She wasn’t the least bit attractive. There was a sour look on her face that appeared to be permanent and he hoped the blow to his vanity would survive it. He scolded himself for being so shallow and forced a smile onto his face.

His daughter had never been a shy child, but when she took a step back and leaned against him, he knew today was the exception. He cleared his throat and nodded his head in greeting. "You must be Diana?"

The woman stared at Amanda before meeting his gaze. "No, I'm sorry, you've mistaken me with someone else."

Caleb stared at her, confusion drawing his brows down, more so when the woman grabbed a small carpet bag from the sidewalk and walked away. That confusion turned to relief when he realized the homely woman wasn’t his bride. When Amanda turned and looked up at him, he knew she was as perplexed as he was.

"Did she not come?"

"I don't know."

The driver was unloading the last of the bags from the top of the stagecoach. If the expression on his face was any indication, he was in a foul mood. When his feet hit the ground, he glanced their way before grabbing the stagecoach door, which was still standing open. He banged on it with his fist so loud Caleb and Amanda both jumped. Someone inside the stagecoach did as well, letting out a high-pitched squeal only a female could make.

He saw movement inside and knew the woman still on the stagecoach was his future bride, and like it or not, his life was about to change.

Rebecca releases on November 13th!

Rebecca: Angel Creek Christmas Brides book 15

Rebecca thought this Christmas was going to be another spent in the cold while looking into tinseled windows and dreaming of a life she’d never know. But fate throws her a lifeline when she jumps on a train headed west. When she arrives in Angel Creek, Montana to discover she’s assumed the identity of a mail order bride, she wonders how long it will take her new husband to realize she can’t cook, sew or clean a house properly?

Caleb Reilly bows to mounting pressure from his ailing mother and young daughter and sends away for a wife. The closer it gets to Christmas, the more he regrets the decision—until his new bride steps off the stagecoach. She isn’t what he’d been expecting. Nor does she resemble the woman he corresponded with and Caleb soon realizes Rebecca isn’t who she says she is. Can he trust this stranger with his daughter? And can he trust his own judgement when logic tells him one thing but his hearts begs he do another.