The Reluctant Marshal's Guarded Heart

Prologue

St. Agnes Orphanage — Dry Creek

The flour dust made Rachel’s nose itch, and she turned her head away to sneeze. She wasn’t about to sneeze into the dough she was kneading. It would be typical for her to end up giving the children colds because of her actions.

“How are you getting on there, Rachel?” Malcolm Richards called from the front.

“It’s fine, Mr. Richards,” Rachel called back. “Almost done.”

“Don’t forget to get the rolls out of the oven. They should be done anytime soon. I’m just heading into town to get some more supplies.”

“I’ll manage,” Rachel said. “You can rely on me.”

She heard Mr. Richards chuckle as he left.

He could certainly rely on her. She’d been working for him for six years and had shown that she was more than capable and dependable.

Rachel enjoyed working in the bakery, even if it was boiling hot in the middle of summer.

She loved the smell of cooked bread, and she enjoyed making everything.

It gave her a sense of satisfaction to know that she could do this.

And it put smiles on the children’s faces.

The orphanage loved having its own bakery, something Miriam had made sure of when she first became the owner twenty-five years ago.

She didn’t want to rely on the bakery in town when she had so many children to feed, so she’d managed to make them mostly self-sufficient.

Rachel was surprised at how focused Miriam was.

Rachel couldn’t complain. She’d been here all her life, and she’d been happy enough, although there was a part of her that resented being there. She wished she could remember her mother, just a bit of her. Then it would make it easier to hate her. After all, she abandoned her.

Miriam had told Rachel that her mother couldn’t cope and that she’d been entrusted to the orphanage after being born. She made it sound as though her mother was young and unable to raise a child under the circumstances. While that might be true, Rachel still considered it abandonment.

Rachel saw Miriam as her mother figure. She was stern but fair, and there was a warm side of her that Rachel saw quite often. Rachel stayed on long after the age she was supposed to have left. They had become their own little family. Miriam loved her, and she adored Miriam in return.

The kneading had done its job, and the dough looked ready.

Slowly withdrawing her hands, the dough was sticking to her fingers.

Rachel quickly washed her hands to get rid of the gunky mixture before bringing over a couple of loaf tins.

She dunked the dough into the tins, then moved them to one side to rise.

It would take a while, and then they would be going into the oven.

Speaking of which…

Washing her hands again and grabbing the oven gloves, Rachel opened the oven and slowly brought out the tray of rolls. She groaned, realizing that a few at the back were burnt.

“I should’ve paid more attention,” she muttered. “Now some of these are ruined.”

She was placing the tray on the counter when Miriam walked in.

At the age of fifty-five, Miriam looked well put together.

She was still attractive, tall and slim with snow-white hair cut short and brushed away from her face.

She always had a ready smile, but that disappeared when her stern side came out.

The children knew that she wasn’t someone to make a fool of.

She would defend her children to the ends of the earth, but she wasn’t about to defend someone who had done something wrong.

“How are you getting on, Rachel?” Miriam asked as she approached the counter, giving her a warm smile. “It looks like you’re keeping things under control here.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Rachel gestured at the rolls with a grimace. “I’ve burnt some of them. I thought they were going to be fine, but I must’ve pushed them further in than normal.”

Frowning, Miriam leaned in and had a closer look.

“It’s not burnt, Rachel. They’re just a bit darker brown than the others, but they’re not ruined.”

“I want things to look exactly the same!” Rachel cried, feeling her frustration building. “I don’t want them to look like I’ve never cooked bread rolls before!”

“Rachel, darling, you don’t need to be so upset.” Miriam gave her a smile and straightened up. “They’re going to be absolutely fine. The children aren’t fussy, you know that. I don’t think they’re going to notice, or even care.”

“But I care!”

“I can tell. Just take a few deep breaths.” Miriam looked around. “Are you in here alone? Where’s Mr. Richards?”

“He went to get some more supplies. We’re going through supplies pretty quickly as usual at this time of year.” Rachel looked toward the window. “Although I don’t know how he’s going to get back with this storm.”

“You don’t need to worry about him. He can take care of himself. That man always finds a way.” Miriam beckoned her over. “Will you come and sit with me? I want to talk to you.”

“Of course.” Rachel hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. “What do you need? I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Well, you can do something for me first.” Miriam dug into the pocket of her jacket and placed a slim parcel neatly wrapped on the table. “I know I said happy birthday to you this morning, but I’d like to say it again. Many happy returns, and this is my gift to you.”

Rachel stared in surprise. She was twenty-three and past the age where she should expect gifts on her birthday. But Miriam insisted on giving her a gift every year, just to make her feel loved. In her words.

“That’s very kind of you. You didn’t need to do that, though.”

“I know, but I wanted you to have this in particular.” Miriam paused. “Why don’t you open it?”

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

Rachel peered at the parcel. It was small and slim. It could be a book, or a notebook. She did like to draw a little, and she’d been given a notebook before that, which she filled with small drawings, though not very good ones. Was it another one?

Undoing the string, she opened the parcel and saw what it was. A tatty old book with ‘Recipes’ written on the front. Curious about why she was given this, Rachel opened it and saw the name written inside.

‘Property of Mary Bell’.

“This belonged to your mother,” Miriam said.

Rachel’s head snapped up.

“My mother?”

“Yes. She collected all of her recipes in it. She was only in her teens, barely a grown woman, but she collated a lot of recipes over her time so she didn’t have to rely on anyone.

” Miriam smiled, a fond look passing across her face.

“She was a good cook. She did a bit of cooking here when I first met her. The children loved her food.”

Rachel didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been given a few of her mother’s things over the years, although it didn’t stop the overwhelming sense of abandonment. Now she had her mother’s name for the first time. Mary Bell.

Why had Miriam never said anything?

Rachel had asked about her mother over the years, but Miriam never shared much, insisting it was for Rachel's own good. The secrecy had always hurt, but Miriam had never wavered. If only she would. Then Rachel might finally understand why she was left in an orphanage with other children who had no families of their own. She didn’t want anyone to think she didn’t like the ready-made family that had been given to her--she saw most of the other orphans as siblings--but there had always been something missing from her life. She just wanted a true family.

Yes, Miriam and the orphanage were her family, and Rachel would forever be grateful, but she wanted more.

“It’s very kind of you, Miriam.” Rachel turned the pages, looking at the neat handwriting and the recipes that she was both familiar and unfamiliar with. “But why are you giving me this? I’m not about to become the orphanage’s cook, am I?”

Miriam chuckled.

“No, nothing like that. Mrs. Bickley isn’t about to retire anytime soon, and she wouldn’t want someone else under her feet.”

“I didn’t think that was the case.” She kept staring at her mother’s recipe book, confused.

“It’s the last thing of your mother’s that I had.” Miriam paused, her smile fading a little. “And you’re going to need something to remember home by.”

“Well, it’s a sweet…” Then Rachel caught what she just said. She frowned at the orphanage mistress in confusion. “To remember home by? But… this place is my home.”

“I know,” Miriam said softly, reaching for Rachel’s hand. “And that will never change. No matter where life takes you, this place will always be your first home.” She hesitated, her heart aching. “But… I’m afraid it’s almost time for you to begin a new chapter.”

“What?”

Rachel felt like she’d been hit over the head. It took a moment for the words to sink in. Why was Miriam saying that now? She couldn’t believe it. Miriam had told her years ago that she would always have a home at the orphanage. Was she throwing her out now?

“But… I thought you were going to let me live here,” she protested. “Didn’t you say…?”

“I know I did, but you’re a grown woman now. You need to spread your wings and venture out into the world.”

“I have a job!” Rachel cried, gesturing at her surroundings. “I work here! And I help with the children.”

“Yes, but you can do that elsewhere. And you could start the family you’ve always wanted. One that’s of your own choosing.”

Rachel snorted. “I’ve already got that, Miriam! Here!”

Miriam sighed and sat back in her chair.

“Rachel, that isn’t what I meant, and you know it.

I admit that I’ve been at fault for not letting you leave when you should’ve done so, but I did…

” She stopped herself and started again.

“I’ve become too fond of you, and I thought of you as my own daughter.

I was reluctant to let you go. Now it’s been detrimental, because you should’ve left, started over on your own, started your own family… ”

“But I love being here,” Rachel cried. “Where would I go?”

“You won’t have to worry about that.” Miriam reached into her pocket and withdrew a letter. “There’s a place called Mercy Creek. It’s about fifty miles west of here, further into the mountains. It’s a beautiful place, just right for starting anew.”

“But…”

“There’s a man in Mercy Creek who has requested a bride. He wants to settle down himself, and he’s looking for someone who’d be willing to marry him without seeing him.”

Rachel’s stomach dropped.

“You mean like a mail-order bride? One of those people you send off an advertisement for?”

Miriam nodded. Rachel shook her head.

“No, Miriam! Don’t say you did that for me!”

“I thought it would be better that I made the move for you and secure something that would make things good for your future. And getting yourself married to a good man will be just what you need.”

Miriam’s voice sounded sincere, which only confused Rachel more. Surely Miriam did not truly believe this was for the best.

Rachel felt like her head was swimming. She had no idea what to think anymore. She had been in the orphanage all her life, and it was all she ever knew. Never had she considered leaving. Now Miriam was throwing her out.

“Don’t look at me like that, Rachel.” Miriam gave her a pleading look as she touched Rachel’s hand. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“But how can I marry a stranger?” Rachel demanded. “How can I go on like this knowing that I’m going to be married to someone I don’t know, let alone love?”

“And you think you can get married when you’re stuck in here all day, every day? I’m surprised you know what the outside looks like, given how busy you are in the bakery.”

“I do go outside!” She tried to argue, but Miriam’s sharp voice cut her short.

“When was the last time you went for a walk?” Miriam challenged. “When did you go for a ramble with the children? I think the last time you did that was before you were eighteen.”

“That’s because it’s very busy in here! Mr. Richards and I are always working. We can’t let everyone starve!” Even as she said it, Rachel knew it was only half true. The kitchen needed her, yes—but she had also made it into a place where no one could ask why she never left.

“It’s not just the two of you working in the bakery.

And you need to move forward with your life.

” Miriam attempted a smile, but she looked nervous.

“Maybe this is God’s way of leading you toward the home you always wanted.

The one that would be there when you need it.

Deep down, you know the orphanage isn’t that place, much as I’d like you to stay. But you know I’m right.”

Rachel wanted to argue further, especially when Miriam brought up God. She did go to church, and she did pray, but it felt like God wasn’t listening. If he was, then he would’ve brought her mother back.