Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) Read Online Free PDF Page A

and she turned to flee before stopping herself, knowing no other place where she could be private. She took a seat and forced herself to relive every encounter with Victor, starting from the first time they’d met.
    In retrospect, she could see the signs of his deceit—the secret courtship, how she couldn’t write him letters, nor would he write to her. Grace didn’t know where he lived, because Victor had always said dropping by a men’s boarding house wouldn’t be seemly. She recalled the long trips when she’d believed he was traveling to his other accounts, but he’d probably been with his family. And worst of all, the physical intimacies he wanted without the sanctity of marriage.
    And I almost gave in. Horrified, Grace dropped her face into her hands. What would I have done once he’d had his way with me? A marriage certainly wouldn’t have occurred! How could I have been so gullible? Her stomach clenched in shame, followed by a wave of anger at the man. Victor’s lucky he isn’t here right now!
    What will I do? She knew from local gossip how few jobs for women were available in Lawrence. While she’d dilly-dallied since the fire, thinking herself secure with Victor, some of the other women had probably acted immediately and been hired. Without work, she couldn’t support herself, and the sewing trade was all she knew.
    Fueled by her pain and anger, Grace straightened. She snapped open the Gazette and perused the pages, looking not at the men but at the states. My most important requirement in a husband is that he lives in the West, far away from Victor Jones!
    Montana leaped out from the page. Grace knew nothing about the state except that she vaguely thought the place was full of cowboys and savages. I don’t want a cowboy for a husband!
    But since she supposed the rest of the West also had cowboys, and they were better than a lying button salesman, Grace went ahead and skimmed the letter from Frey Foster, learning he most definitely was not a cowboy—another advantage. She noted the addition of the sentences underneath his signature added by a Mrs. Seymour, who by her words must be a matchmaker. The woman wrote that Mr. Foster was handsome, with a fine (although large) physique, a full head of hair, and all of his teeth. He was a hard worker and was, indeed, building a house.
    Grace reread the paragraph about his fidelity, not that she could trust words—even written ones. Victor had broken the vows he’d spoken before God to remain faithful to his wife. Another wave of shame washed over her.
    Frey Foster will do. Grace closed the paper so forcefully the middle tore. She stood, using anger to push her through the pain.
    Now to go write a letter to the man, prepare to move to Montana, and become Mrs. Frey Foster. She could barely stomach the idea.
    * * *
    When she returned home from the park, Grace found Shirley standing at the stove and stirring a pot of what smelled like vegetable soup. She waved with the wooden spoon. “Come in, girl, and have something to eat.”
    Grace pressed a hand to her stomach, where nausea still lingered. “I’m not hungry yet.”
    “How did the meeting go?”
    “The factory will remain permanently closed.” Grace handed her the Grooms’ Gazette . “Because there’s no work, Roberta gave out these, suggesting we become mail-order brides.” She shrugged. “Mr. Foster of Montana interests me.”
    “Well, now. Let me see.” Shirley took a seat at the table and carefully poured over the pages. The old woman seemed delighted to read about the various potential husbands, cackling over some of the more unfortunate-sounding men, especially the one with twelve children, and selected two that she might have chosen if she were young.
    Although Grace had smiled at Shirley’s comments, the effort to remain composed drained her. She couldn’t wait to be alone so she could stop pretending.
    While Shirley amused herself with the Groom’s Gazette , Grace made a list on the