THE OVERLANDER’S BRIDE
by
Diane Story
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
P.O. Box 726
Lusk, Wyoming 82225
307-334-3165
Copyright 2004 by Diane Story
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN 1-59374-131-6
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
Dedicated to my husband Ron. Without his loving support, I would not succeed.
CHAPTER ONE
March 1862, St. Louis Missouri.
“Since you want the Grant name in this family so desperately, Papa, why don’t you marry Henry?” Polly stood facing her father defiantly, her hands planted firmly on her hips.
“Sit down, young lady!” George Sawyer bellowed loudly, causing her to fall into the chair across from him instantly. Polly’s father was a pious man and normally level headed when it came to the matters of women, but today his daughter was testing him. “Pauline, I will not listen to another silly argument about your marriage. You have been betrothed to Henry Grant since the day you were born. This senseless idea of marriage for love is to be forgotten, do you understand? Tomorrow is your engagement ball and you will be there.” George took a deep breath before continuing on, “Now, your mother is waiting to take you to Mrs. McMillen’s shop this afternoon so you can decide on a new dress for the affair and I expect you will find something to make your fiancée, and your papa proud. You are excused Polly, I will hear no more of this foolishness.”
“I won’t marry Henry, I promise you that, Papa. I will attend the silly old ball and sit like a dutiful fiancé for you and Mama, but there will be no marriage.” Polly slammed the door behind her. Leaning against it briefly, she wanted to go back in for another round with her father, but her tears prevented her. Running up the stairs to her room, she threw herself on her bed, crying into the pillow.
Polly’s mother, Justine, heard the door slam and flinched. She had just filled a vase with some of her prized yellow and pink roses from her greenhouse when Polly flew past her and Melinda, her housemaid. Melinda’s eyes widened but she didn’t say a word. “Oh dear, I better go see to Polly, Melinda. Clean these stems up for me, will you, and then you’re dismissed.”
Justine knew Polly was going to speak with her father about her engagement to Henry again this morning. She tried to talk her out of it, but Polly was stubborn. It was a difficult situation for them both and they fought most everyday since the announcement three months ago on Polly’s twenty-first birthday. Justine had the fortune of being the wife of one of the most powerful and stubborn men in St. Louis, qualities he passed down to Polly. She was their only daughter and the youngest of their offspring. Their son Charles was away in Pittsburgh learning the ways of the world, as George called it. One day he would take over the business of running the shipping yards so that George could retire.
Justine found Polly lying face down on her bed in tears. She smiled, thinking of all the times she had found her in this same manner after fighting with Charles, or after George had scolded her for one of her many acts of disobedience. Even though they fought constantly, Polly and Charles had always been close. Born only two years apart, they grew up with a binding protectiveness toward each other. Justine knew Polly had heard her come into the room, but she did not look up. She was looking for sympathy.
“Get up off that bed, Polly Sawyer, you know you can’t win a battle of wits with your father. It’s time to grow up and act like a proper lady. You know your father will never allow your engagement to Henry to be called off. Go wash your face now, the carriage is waiting for us downstairs.”
Polly sat up and watched her mother walk to the door. Slamming her fists into the soft down mattress, she yelled at the top of her lungs. “I will not marry for convenience and I will not have my life dictated for the sake of wealth or name.” Sniffling, she got up and followed her mother from the room, mumbling words under her breath that would make her mother swoon.