Helena - Mail Order Brides

Mail-order bride Helena Grayson thought she was finally stepping into a new life when she married a man she had only known through letters. But just twenty minutes into her marriage, a stray bullet shatters her future, leaving her widowed and alone. Now, Helena is faced with the grim task of delivering her deceased husband's body back to his family and starting all over again—becoming a mail-order bride once more. It's the only way to escape the clutches of her controlling cousin and secure her safety.

When she arrives at the Grayson ranch, Helena is met with unexpected kindness from her late husband’s family. They embrace her like one of their own—except for Owen Grayson, the eldest brother. Brooding and distant, Owen is determined to make things difficult for her. As Helena struggles to find a new husband, Owen's presence becomes more than just an obstacle. His teasing words and smoldering looks begin to stir something deeper in her heart. But can Helena afford to fall for the man who seems bent on keeping her at arm's length?

Pierre, South Dakota 1875

Such a perfect day for a wedding.

Holding hands with her new husband, Helena Grayson’s heart filled to the brim as she nearly floated down the three wooden steps of the church. Mrs. Mitchell Grayson.

Smiling, she sighed. In all her daydreams of the ideal husband, she never imagined she’d find one as wonderful as the man she just married.

Sunlight danced upon them as a blessing from the Lord above. The warmth banished the early spring chill, and a slight breeze tousled Mitchell’s blond hair.

He grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling like diamonds. “Helena, you have made me the luckiest man alive.”

She cuddled against his arm. Tilting her head, she kept her eyes locked with his. Mitchell was a tall man, and the top of her head reached his shoulder. Finally, after years of loneliness, comfort surrounded her like a thick blanket. She had the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency to thank—in particular, Milly Crenshaw, who helped Helena find Mitchell as a mail-order bride.

“No, I am the fortunate one.” Helena squeezed his hand. “We are going to be very happy.”

“I’m already happy.”

Glass breaking and shouting from across the street captured Helena’s attention. Mitchell whipped his head toward the noise.

Two men staggered out of the saloon, each holding a bottle of whiskey. The larger one with black hair pushed the younger man with thinning red hair. The redhead tumbled onto his backside.

“Yer nothin’ but a cheat!” The large man was built like a bull and snorted just as loud. “I saw ye pull that ace out of yer sleeve, ye dirty sidewinder.”

The redhead scrambled to his feet. “You saw nothing of the kind. I have never cheated in cards, and I’ll have words with anyone who says differently.”

“Words?” The large man belched a laugh, his full gut jiggled with the movement. “Here in Pierre, we don’t have words with anyone.” He withdrew his pistol. “We communicate with these, junior.”

Helena gasped and clung tightly to Mitchell’s arm. Protectively, he pulled her closer.

The thin redhead dropped his whiskey bottle. It shattered on the boardwalk. “I see your hand, and I’ll raise you two.” He pulled both guns from his holster.
The bulky man shot his weapon first, but only managed to clip off his opponent’s hat. A one-horse buggy passed between Helena and the drunks on the street. The gunshot startled the animal, and it reared up on his back legs as panic coated his neigh.

Helena gasped. “Oh, dear. This is not good at all.”

Mitchell’s arms tightened around her. “I think we had better get out of here.”

“I agree.”

Another gunshot blasted the air, and several more popped through the street. Mitchell urgently led her past the startled horse and owner who tried to calm the beast down.

Sharp whistling penetrated the air, zipping past Helena’s ear. Before she could react, Mitchell’s body jerked violently, his hold on her weakened, and finally slid away. He collapsed to the ground, crumbling motionless on his side. Blood poured from the back of his head.

“Mitchell!” She landed on her knees beside him, yanking him onto his back. A hole just below the hairline marred his handsome face. Blood gushed down the side of his face, flowing faster than a river.

“No!” She screamed and shook him, willing him to look at her and say something. She wouldn’t accept that she had lost him only minutes after they were married.

Naught but sightless eyes stared up into the sky. “Mitchell Grayson, talk to me,” she demanded, shaking him again. “You can not die on me!”

Fear and confusion pumped through Helena, making her stomach churn. This could not be happening.

Gunshots continued to blast through the street. All around her people scattered in fear. Women screamed, while men with more raised guns tried to settle the commotion.

Unable to see the fray through the swarming crowd, Helena huddled instinctively beside Mitchell’s motionless frame, keeping low to avoid the wild gunfire. Blessedly, after a few more heart stopping moments, the popping ceased, leaving the stench of spent gunpowder in its wake. Ahead, the weaving bystanders parted just enough for Helena to glimpse the saloon. The redheaded cheat slumped on the boardwalk, clutching his bloody ribs while two other men subdued his heftier opponent. Yet more cowboys scattered into doors and alleyways with hats pulled low over their faces.

The wall of legs and petticoats closed ranks once more and Helena turned back to Mitchell’s body, startling her back to reality. So much blood. Tears flooded her eyes, but it was her broken heart that was tightening her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Please, someone help me!” Helena screamed into the crowd, and then prayed silently for God to send someone to her. A middle-aged woman hustled past at that moment. Helena grasped the woman’s skirt. “Please… can you help me?”

The woman’s gaze switched between Helena and Mitchell, eyes widening before her face turned white.

“Oh, good heavens, child.” She crouched to Helena’s level. “How did this happen?”

Tears flowed down Helena’s cheek as she shook her head. “He… we… just came out of the church. Two drunks were arguing across the way… Gunshots fired…”

“My dearest child,” the woman said, cupping Helena’s face. “I’ll fetch the sheriff and the doctor. They must be close after all this commotion.”

“Tha—thank you.”

The woman hurried off, leaving Helena all alone again. Her chest physically hurt, as though someone reached inside and squeezed the life right out of her. All of this was too incredulous. Mitchell wasn’t supposed to die, especially not right after they’d exchanged marriage vows. Until death do us part…

She released a strangled sob and buried her face against Mitchell’s chest. No longer would she hear the steady thud-thud, thud-thud of his heartbeat when he held her close. No longer would his loving hands caress her hair.

Chills shook through her, but she refused to draw away. She couldn’t leave him. Not now. Not a mere ten minutes after she had vowed never to leave him… to love him forever.

Two months ago when Milly Crenshaw found her Mitchell Grayson and she started writing him letters, she knew he was the one. He was the man who would be her rescuer in every way. Her proverbial knight in shining armor. They had arranged to have a secret wedding and met for the first time yesterday face to face. It was love at first sight. Or so she’d believed. Helena began falling for him through their correspondence, and after meeting the wonderful, selfless, and very handsome man, she knew he would make her happy.

Several feet clomping on the boardwalk pulled her out of her thoughts. She jerked up to see the older woman and two men rushing her way. One wore a shiny silver star on his brown vest and the other carried a medical bag. The lawman gave her a curt nod, dropping beside Mitchell along with the doctor.

“I think… one of those drunks… shot my husband,” she said in a strained voice.

The sheriff finished his once over of the body and met her gaze. “That is what Doctor Skinner and I think as well.” He shook his head and looked back at Mitchell. “Struck by a stray bullet. Terrible way to go.”

The doctor placed his fingers on Mitchell’s throat, then moved his ear to Mitchell’s chest. Helena held her breath in hope, even though she knew what the doctor would discover.

When the physician straightened and met her gaze, he frowned. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, he is gone.” He turned to the kind woman. “Mrs. Black, would you go back to my office and ask Roberta to prepare a room for…” His gaze flicked back to Helena. “Forgive me, what is your husband’s name?”

“Gra-Grayson,” Helena stammered. “Mitchell Grayson.”

“Mrs. Black, kindly have a room prepared for Mr. Grayson.”

“Yes, Doctor Skinner.” She gave Helena an awkward, one-armed hug then left.

Helena swept her hand against Mitchell’s jaw. She trailed fingertips across his very still hand. What was she going to do now?