A Love Most Worthy Read online

  A LOVE

  MOST WORTHY

  A Novella

  Sandra Ardoin

  ©2019 A LOVE MOST WORTHY by Sandra Ardoin

  For more information on this book and the author visit: http://sandraardoin.com.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For further permissions, please contact the author through her website: www.sandraardoin.com/contact.

  A Love Most Worthy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover design by Evelyne Labelle, Carpe Librum Book Design.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  If you enjoy historical romances like A Love Most Worthy and want to be notified of upcoming releases and special offers, sign up for the Love and Faith in Fiction newsletter. I’d love having you in the community!

  “Sandra Ardoin spins an endearing story of love and faith in this sweet historical novella. A Love Most Worthy is filled with authentic characters, a marriage-of-convenience that tugged at my own heart, and a lovely ending certain to satisfy fans of historical romance.” ~~ Heidi Chiavaroli, Carol Award-winning Author of Freedom’s Ring and The Hidden Side

  The Yuletide Angel

  “Rarely has a novella captivated me as quickly and as thoroughly as Sandra Ardoin’s The Yuletide Angel. Her characters are endearing and the writing superb. I look forward to more stories from this talented author.” ~~ Myra Johnson, Award-winning Author of When the Clouds Roll By

  A Reluctant Melody

  “A Reluctant Melody by Sandra Ardoin has a perfect blend of romance and suspense. The Christian message is nicely woven into the story with delicate healing threads.” ~~ Andrea Boeshaar, Author of the Shenandoah Valley Saga

  To those feeling swamped by storms of doubt.

  “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.”

  ~ James 1:6 KJV ~

  Chapter One

  Feminine laughter drifted across the water toward the Alaskan beach at Nome. With the faint sound, cold fingers of dread tiptoed up Rance Preston’s back.

  “Is that our new aunt laughing, Uncle Rance?”

  Only if God had frowned on him.

  Yet, he feared the buoyant sound floating over the waves of the Bering Sea did indeed come from the stranger he would marry this afternoon, a woman his friend in Seattle, Frank Connors, had assured him met his requirements for a bride.

  Rance clamped a gentle hand on the cap covering the six-year-old’s head. “We’ll find out soon, Robbie.”

  He listened in vain to hear her words over the crowd scattered among dozens of miners’ tents and mountains of freight—sacks and crates and machinery—sitting mere yards from the water.

  The warmer temperatures had broken up the winter ice, and now steamships arrived in droves in this summer of 1900, forced to anchor farther out to sea due to Nome District’s shallow harbor. Those aboard rode to the shore in lighters, the boats’ flat-bottomed hulls filled with men and women intent on striking it rich in the gold rush...and one mail-order bride intent on marrying a man she had never met.

  As the crew in the lead boat rowed closer, the laughing lady entertained an audience of enraptured passengers with sweeping gestures. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t the woman he expected. Maybe, in sending for a wife, he hadn’t created another nightmare for himself and the boys.

  With the lighter a few yards from the beach, Rance pulled out the photograph he’d received. Strange that it showed two females, not one. When the woman in the boat looked up, he compared her face with the images and swallowed the urge to groan.

  Miss Russell had arrived.

  Once the lighter reached the shallowest point, men scrambled over the side. One smiling gent turned his back to Miss Russell and urged her to climb aboard. Rance stiffened. The man proposed to tote her piggyback? She shook her head, looking both embarrassed and uncertain.

  It wasn’t unusual to carry a woman to shore to avoid the necessity of her wading the last few feet, however, Miss Russell was Rance’s responsibility now. He should be the one to bring her ashore.

  The man from the boat turned and said something to her. She shrugged and allowed him to lift her from the lighter and carry her in his arms. Once they reached shore—within feet of Rance—she quickly slid from his hold and onto the beach of dark sand and small rocks. The hem of her green skirt dripped with seawater. It appeared the man’s precaution had proved unsuccessful.

  His future bride smiled and said, “Thank you, Mr. Digby. That was...quite an experience.”

  The gentleman, who was dressed more like a gambler than a miner, held out her case. “It was my pleasure to assist you, Miss Russell. I hope we’ll meet again while I’m here.”

  Rance’s breath caught as he waited for her to reject the idea of associating with another man.

  She reached for the valise. “I’ll be busy with my new family, sir, but I wish you a lovely stay in Nome.”

  Once Digby tipped his hat and walked away, Rance exhaled.

  Miss Russell caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her timidity created in him a surprising urge, a protective urge. Though his mind shouted for him to act, to reassure her, his muscles froze.

  The top of the woman’s head only reached his shoulder. Strands of light orange hair poked from under her hat, freed by the sea breeze. Wisps of curls, the shade of a winter sunset, blew across a face dappled with freckles. Not as winsome as the second woman in the photograph, her ordinary features helped to ease his anxiety. After all, he sought greater virtues from a wife than beauty.

  At the pain of a sharp elbow from someone in the jostling crowd, he stepped forward, dragging Robbie and Davie with him. “Miss Russell?”

  “Mr. Preston?” She glanced down, seeing the boys. Her expression lightened.

  “Yes, ma’am. Welcome to Nome.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and leaned forward as if intending to hug him. When he drew back, so did she, and the smile faltered. Marriage was one thing. Affection another.

  Still, those full, moon-shaped eyes, the clear blue of an afternoon sky, reeled him in like a salmon fighting the line. How could they sparkle with excitement, cast a shadow of apprehension, and glow with the warmth of a Georgia summer sun all in a matter of seconds?

  “Ow. That hurts.” Davie tried to pull his hand from Rance’s.

  “I’m sorry, Nugget.” Freed from Miss Russell’s gaze, he loosened his grip on the four-year-old but refused to let go. After a couple of panic-inducing experiences, he’d learned the hard way that Davie must be watched constantly or he wandered off.

  Dark hair curled upward and over the bottom of Davie’s cap. Rance should have given the
children a haircut before Miss Russell arrived. Caring for two small boys was difficult while operating a busy store, but shaggy hair didn’t make for a good impression of his parenting skills.

  Setting her case on the sand beside her, she crouched to the boys’ level, addressing them in turn. “You’re Robbie, and you’re Davie. Am I right?”

  Davie broke away and wound his short arms around her neck. She gasped, then closed her eyes and returned the hug as if he were her own.

  Rance’s chest ached. Late night tears and drawings of family had revealed how much the boys missed the love and attention of their parents, but he hadn’t fully realized their eagerness for the arrival of his bride. Having caused their loss, he would do anything to provide them with maternal affection, including marrying a woman he didn’t love.

  Miss Russell released Davie and rose. The scent of lilacs rose with her. Lilacs in a gold mining district. He caught himself before a snort escaped.

  She approached Robbie as if intending to embrace him, too, but the older boy inched closer to Rance’s side. At the boy’s move, much like his own, her cheeks gave color to her otherwise pale complexion. Clasping her hands together, she looked around. “This is a bustling place.”

  “Increasingly so. You might want to change from that damp suit before we see the preacher.”

  Those big eyes grew bigger. “We’re to marry today?”

  “I would prefer my intended not stay alone in one of the hotels.” Rance cocked his head. “Marrying me is why you came, isn’t it?”

  At the purse of her lips, that spine-crawling dread returned. He’d been duped once by a female, and his nephews had paid the price. He couldn’t afford to be deceived again.

  HALLIE RUSSELL’S EXHILARATION, which hadn’t faded since leaving Seattle, wilted with Mr. Preston’s question. Accusation was more like it.

  She fingered the oval locket pinned to her jacket and matched stares with the man who had paid her passage on the San Juan. Of course, she had set sail for Nome to marry him. Mostly. She simply hadn’t expected to do so the minute she stepped foot on Alaskan soil.

  Shouldn’t Mr. Preston want a little time to get to know her first? After all, Hallie’s only communication with him had been her hastily-written letter advising that her cousin, Harriet, had married someone else, and Hallie presumed to take her place as his bride.

  Oh, well. It seemed the Nome hotels didn’t suit him, and she couldn’t stay in his house without the blessing of God and a minister, which left her with no excuse to put off the inevitable. “I would appreciate the opportunity to freshen up first.”

  He bobbed his head once. “Then we should go.”

  “What about my trunk?”

  “The stevedores will unload the ship.”

  The smooth cadence of his southern roots soothed the tension in her neck and shoulders. Georgia. Yes, that was where her cousin had said he was born.

  “It might be tomorrow or later before your things are set on the beach.”

  “Set on the beach?” Hallie glanced back at the boats bringing more passengers and freight ashore. “They’ll be safe?”

  “As safe as anything else around here. I’ll fetch them with the stock I ordered for the store.”

  Hallie called to mind her purpose for sailing to Nome and tossed aside the concern. She could make do for a day or so with what she’d brought in her case.

  Davie shook off Mr. Preston’s hand again and grabbed hers. Robbie continued to cling to his uncle. The older boy had said nothing to her other than a polite and quiet hello. However, through his stare, she felt his curiosity.

  As they pressed through the crowd and toward the buildings ahead, Hallie glanced over her shoulder at the flotilla of ships and small boats nodding in the water. Standing at the rail on the deck of the San Juan, “barren” had been the first word to come to mind with her glimpses of the tundra—vast, relatively treeless, yet outlined by a ridge of mountain peaks.

  On the beach, men operated sluices and rockers, seeking whatever valuable nuggets they could wash from the sand and water.

  With Davie’s hand in hers, Hallie followed Mr. Preston and Robbie. They turned onto a narrow street with people milling about. Wooden buildings and tents formed a hastily-built town. More tents lined the beach for what seemed like miles, some with black stove pipes rising in the air. Was it possible her new home was constructed of nothing more than a large stretch of white canvas over a wood frame? She shivered at the thought. How cold would the weather turn come winter?

  Wagons with vendors hawking bread and other baked goods passed her. Horses, mules, barking dogs roped together, wood smoke, more vendors with their wares. Hordes of humanity crammed into this small place. And the noise! She breathed in the good spirits of those around her.

  An Eskimo family, with their rounded, somewhat bronzed faces and Asian features, crossed in front of Hallie. Each member was attired in loose-fitting clothing and boots sewn from animal hides. The mother, her straight, black hair parted in the center and tied at each side with leather thongs, carried a sleeping baby on her back and held the hands of two young girls. Hallie smiled at the nearest child and received a shy grin in return.

  Hallie’s father had told her a story of wearing buffalo skins during a Dakota winter. Perhaps, she would be expected to dress in furs and thick skins throughout the coldest months. Her heart pumped faster at the thought of reliving a facet of Papa’s youthful experience.

  “Are you coming, Miss Russell?”

  She startled at Mr. Preston’s voice and hurried forward. She must start thinking of him as Rance. Although her adventurous side thrilled to her surroundings, the practical side reminded her this spontaneous journey could prove foolhardy. She tamped down the caution and renewed excitement washed over her with the power of a refreshing rain. What was life without a sense of adventure?

  More than once, her father had asked that question. He had failed to follow through with his dreams, but Hallie Marie Russell would not die without living her life to the fullest.

  Chapter Two

  Rance called over his shoulder, “Do you know how this gold rush started, Miss Russell?”

  Hallie straightened the hat someone had knocked cockeyed. “Only through the reports I’ve read in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. I would enjoy hearing the story from you.” She could listen to his gentle, leisurely accent all day.

  “Three men named Lindeberg, Brynteson, and Lindblom discovered placer gold at Anvil Creek in ’98, and the rush was on. Placer gold is—”

  “Found loose in gravel and sand, not dug from rock.” He halted mid-stride and gazed at her. Evidently, she wasn’t supposed to know the mining term. She shrugged. “As I said, I read.”

  He nodded and continued the trek through town. “Last year, miners found it on the beach, which is why you’ll see tents from Cape Nome to the east to Cape Rodney to the west. The find prompted a flood of would-be miners. As you’ve witnessed, they’re still coming.”

  “I can’t imagine anything more enticing to a man than searching for treasure.”

  Rance turned his head again and gifted her with two well-arched eyebrows. “The ones who’ve really struck the mother lode operate the saloons, dance halls, and gambling establishments along Front Street and on the sand spit. Even Wyatt Earp has opened a saloon here. It’s one of the largest in Nome.” He pointed to a building squeezed in between others. “The Dexter.”

  Visiting the former Arizona lawman’s saloon wasn’t on Hallie’s list of interesting escapades to come.

  While Davie skipped beside her, Robbie walked at his uncle’s hip, mimicking his ramrod dignity. Both boys were in sad need of a haircut but appeared healthy and relatively clean.

  Hallie’s attention returned to the uncle. Frankly, she hadn’t expected to meet someone so...so intriguing. Not even the faded scar that snaked along his left temple took away from her fascination with his appearance. On the contrary, the blemish lent him the look of a rogue and challenged wha
t seemed, so far, to be a stuffy personality.

  Solid in build and striking in looks with his thick black hair and wide shoulders, she had been pleasantly surprised and tempted to embrace him upon first sight. Almost. The shock in those eyes of royal blue warned her away from becoming too familiar. Even so, before she’d crouched in front of the boys, she’d noted the melancholy that darkened the man’s features. Obviously, he’d found it hard to raise two grieving boys alone or he wouldn’t have sent for a wife.

  She shouldn’t expect too much, too soon. Plenty of opportunity existed in the coming weeks and years for them to form a caring relationship. For now, she focused on the blessing of knowing she would not lose the roof over her head, and she would rest easy at night with the realization that she was part of a family—a true and loving family.

  She sidled up to him. “May I ask what brought you here, Mr. Preston?”

  His lips crimped. Perhaps he’d answered that question in his letters to Harriet, but her cousin hadn’t allowed her to read his correspondence. She’d shared certain lines and paraphrased the rest, but Hallie knew enough about him to convince her that he would do his best to provide a good life for his family.

  “I arrived last fall, not to search for gold, but to establish a trading company. In fact, you ought to know—”

  “Howdy, Preston. You got them shovels in yet?” A bent and grizzled man with a beard as long as a necktie tapped Rance on the shoulder.

  When Rance grinned, Hallie fought to control a swoon. My, but her future husband was handsome when he smiled.

  The glow of the past few minutes dimmed. Perhaps he was too handsome for someone with her plain looks. Perhaps that was why he’d seemed aloof on the beach. Seeing her had disappointed him.

  “Sure enough, Efrem, but I won’t be returning to the store today, so talk to Taylor. He’ll get you what you need.”