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  Blaire’s

  Ambushed Heart

  Marlene Bierworth

  Book 11: Brides of Pelican Rapids

  COPYRIGHT © 2020 MARLENE BIERWORTH

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  DISCLAIMER

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is purely coincidental.

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  Ella Milton runs the Brides of Pelican Rapids Agency, making great matches for her clientele. All couples will be interviewed at her home, and can stay in town or leave. From there, the writers in this multi- author series, will spin a tale of love that will, no doubt, contain hardships and surprises as happily-ever-after unfolds.

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Ella Milton, the matchmaker at the Brides of Pelican Rapids Agency, has done it again –a match made in heaven—or so it seems.

  Blaire finds the perfect man when she marries the handsome Dr. Lyle Frazer, the union allowing her to continue her nursing career in their home town of Spalding, Minnesota. Life couldn’t be better.

  Lyle Frazer has a past, one he has not shared with his bride, and when it comes knocking on their door—on the eve of his wife’s exciting reveal—Blaire’s heart is ambushed and may never be restored to love again.

  Will the solution to the abrupt end to their honeymoon, the sudden appearance of Blaire’s childhood sweetheart, and the mystery Lyle seems determined to solve to save their marriage, come too late? Join the newlyweds in this Christian historical romance, filled with twists and turns to keep you guessing if love will triumph in the end.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover Page

  Copyright

  About the Series

  About the Book

  Table of Contents

  Chapters 1 through 14

  What’s Next in the series?

  Let’s Stay Connected

  Author’s Bio

  Chapter 1

  Pine Crest Estate

  Southern Kentucky: 1872

  When January first dawned and others around her spilled poetic visions of a bright New Year filled with hope and expectation, Blaire found herself discontent with her life. A spinster at the age of twenty-four, continuously hounded by her father to choose what he considered normality over a career, had finally worn down her defenses, and for the first time in her adult years, Blaire experienced loneliness for the comfort of a man. Yet, no unattached man in her horizon caught her interest or her heart, which added to the undue stress of her situation.

  That’s when she noticed the ad in the newspaper. Being a mail-order bride had never entered her mind, but she had, indeed, entertained the thought of getting as far away from Kentucky and her nagging father as she could. She looked at the advertisement every morning and then tucked it back into the drawer for safe-keeping.

  Later in the month, after an aggressive doctor at the hospital had made unwanted advances—acting as if he were a gift sent to her from bachelor-heaven—Blaire sat down that very evening with pen and paper and wrote a letter to the agency:

  Dear Ms. Milton,

  I am an independent Southern Kentucky woman who has been overlooked by the pool of eligible suitable bachelors returning from war. I have turned my attention toward a career in medicine and have worked satisfactorily at the local hospital for five years. At the desperate age of twenty-four, I have discovered that I am lonely without children of my own and would consider a man to marry, should you find one that would not balk at a woman who speaks her mind. If that is too great a task, I will understand. People say I am not hard to look at, and if there is a man in the market seeking a fresh start with a mature prospect such as I, please contact me at the return address on the envelope.

  I wait patiently to hear from you.

  Respectfully, Blaire Davis

  She placed the paper in a white envelope, and using her best longhand, wrote, “Brides of Pelican Rapids Agency, Otter Tail County, Pelican Rapids, Minnesota.” She pasted the seal closed and marched to the post office to send it before she lost her nerve.

  Two months later, when all hope for a response had begun to wain, Blaire received an answer:

  My dearest Miss Blair,

  Your case had me stumped for a while, but then I received news from a young doctor who is looking for a wife. You can well imagine my joy at discovering such a perfect match. His letter is attached to mine.

  Please give it full consideration, and come to Pelican Rapids at your earliest convenience when weather permits. Doctor Lyle Frazer eagerly awaits your response.

  Come directly to the agency for a personal interview with me; then I will arrange a meeting between the two candidates. The males stay temporarily in the barn or camp on the property, but I have a room upstairs for you to stay in while you briefly get acquainted—I do not harbor young ladies who constantly reject my matches, so be sure you are serious in this matter.

  Ms. Ella Milton,

  Matchmaker from the Brides of Pelican Rapids Agency.

  Blaire’s hands shook as she unfolded the attached page. She read the words penned by the man whom the agency had coupled with her:

  To my prospective wife,

  My name is Lyle Frazer, and I work as a doctor in the small settlement of Spalding, a day’s stagecoach ride from Pelican Rapids. The town council has provided a small infirmary with a one-room flat at the back, but I have been looking diligently for a proper house close by to welcome a new bride. I hope to have that set up upon your arrival.

  Thus far, I have devoted my efforts in building a rapport with neighbors in the large surrounding area where my services are required, and in doing so, have pushed aside my personal needs. If you are reading this, then I am confident our mutual correspondent, Ms. Milton, is convinced we are a good match.

  I offer you a simple life, but one I trust will meet your approval, as I will serve my community in a medical capacity, and you will serve our home as you see fit. I welcome the idea of children from our union, and I am not so set in my ways to ignore any changes your presence may bring to our mutual bargaining table.

  There is a Lutheran church in Pelican Rapids, and the preacher will marry us before we head to Spalding. We are also privileged to use the schoolhouse for a monthly Sunday worship gathering, where a traveling man of God preaches the Word, and we enjoy a social time together with neighbors. I sincerely trust you have favor with the Almighty. I will honor and strive to provide your needs as we tackle this sacrament called marriage together.

  With the hope I have convinced you to share my life, I close now and look forward to meeting you in Pelican Rapids at your earliest convenience.

  Respectfully, Lyle Frazer

  She put the note in her lap, conscious of her ragged breathing and racing heart. Could it be that easy? A doctor for the taking, and one not so insolent or presumptuous as the one who had refused to take no for an answer at the hospital in Kentucky? Reference to a church gathering and the hope she would entertain hearing the voice of God suggested the man was a practicing Christian—regretfully, she realized that not all who professed to have faith lived it out in their homes.

  Mrs. Blaire Frazer—she tried the surname on for size and was pleased when the sound of it delighted her senses, and the words felt natural on her tongue. The doctor had written a good letter, and hope
soared within her. Was Lyle Frazer an answer to her prayers? Only time would tell, but it was definitely a union worth considering.

  Another week passed, and with the new life spring brought to a dreary winter heart, she made her decision and she sent a note off to the agency to book a room at Ella Milton’s home. She wanted to schedule a face-to-face interview with the lady for May fifteenth. It would be a great way to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday.

  She gave her notice to the hospital. Even after the shedding of tears between her friends and colleagues, she became acutely aware of the freedom gripping her brave soul with the reassurance that this was the path to follow. With all of her plans set into motion, it came time for the most painful step: telling her family. In this endeavor, she did not take pleasure, and rightly so.

  The news did not sit well with Russel Davis, and his rebuff only served to give rise to her anger. Blaire stomped her foot, placed both hands on her hips, and glared at her father. Rage pumped a ferocious beat within her chest that could only be matched by the pounding rain against the window. “I am not a child!” she protested. “You cannot tell me where I may or may not go.”

  Russel Davis struck his fist on the oak desk in his office. “I can and I will!”

  “I have exhausted all attempts to find a husband in Galesburg and I am fast becoming a dreaded spinster. Is that what you want—no grandchildren and no semblance of the life you consider normal for your daughter?”

  “I let you go top up your skills at that nursing school, and now you have a career close to home,” he argued. “You chose your path when you rejected David, after leading the man on for so long.”

  Blaire exhaled, exasperated at her father’s objections. “David returned from the war a different man. He struggles with issues I am ill-equipped or interested in handling on a long-term basis. We’ve always been friends, and that is what I want to remain. I have no romantic inclinations toward the man, whatsoever.”

  “Women can’t be choosey these days,” Russel said. “You should be more than satisfied to settle down with a friend who will inherit a thriving ranch someday. Love can surely grow from that combination.”

  Blaire grimaced. “The thought of it stirs images of settling down with my brother, and I won’t settle, Father.”

  “Yet you will go North and marry a stranger? He’s probably a Yankee.”

  “The war is long over, and I will not weigh the merit of a man by which side of the battle he fought.”

  “Of course not. You were too young to understand it all and I have allowed you the luxury of independence, which has damaged your mind and made you unfit for any man.”

  “I understand that family and neighbors were torn apart, and even though I have lived a pampered existence here in Kentucky, I am brave enough to face the world and make it on my own.”

  “Yes, regretfully, I have spoiled you, daughter,” he said. “But in my defense, I felt nursing at the hospital to be a worthy ambition, and perhaps a doctor would take a shine to you if you’d stay and stick it out here long enough.” He leaned across the desk, glaring at his daughter in that no-nonsense authoritative manner he enjoyed lording over her, “To be a mail-order bride is out of the question!” The tone in his voice demanded the issue be put to rest. It was obvious that he did not consider this mode of finding a husband suitable at all.

  At that moment, Mabel Davis knocked on the door and peered into the room. “Are you two nearly finished with your screaming match? The kitchen staff is waiting on you for supper.”

  Blaire headed for the door, her head high, creating a regal aura, with the long bustle of her dress dragging along the polished wood floor behind her. Inside, she did not feel a princess in the least, but her decision had been made. She must leave her home state and take the risk to find love, regardless of her father’s stand, for the desperate loneliness was becoming too much to bear.

  “I’ve said my piece,” Blaire stated. “I will write the matchmaker and prepare to leave Kentucky the moment she sends word to come, with or without your blessing.”

  Her dress swished past her mother as she marched from the office and headed for the dining room. Food was the furthest thing from her mind, but she would not disrupt Pine Crest, her childhood home, any more on that day if she could at all help it.

  Those gathered at the table received the late arrivals with curiosity but did not dare feed the dissension except for Sanford, her favorite sibling still living at home, who never shrank from his father’s powerful presence and continuously challenged him to join the economy of the new post-war world. When the silence became unbearable, he spoke. “Father, we should throw a going away party for Blaire. She will be missed, not only by us,” he winked in Blaire’s direction, “but by the community and those at her workplace.”

  “Apparently, your sister is devoid of such feelings,” Russel said, barking his disapproval in front of the family and servants. “I will not celebrate a fool’s journey.”

  Sanford looked at his mother. “How long did you know Father before you married him.”

  “Oh, I was born a Floridian and met Russel on my twelfth birthday. I was hopelessly enamored with the man, and when he wrote my father years later requesting my hand in marriage, I could not pack fast enough.”

  Sanford roared laughter at the obvious contradiction in his father’s argument.

  “In light of your long-distance beginnings, Father, I do believe you should be the most understanding of your daughter’s decision. At least, she has been corresponding with her prospective doctor-match before jumping on the mail-order bride wagon.”

  “That was a different time.” Russel stuck a forkful of food into his mouth and ignored the onlookers, as if a specific time in history somehow had the corner on the practice of agreeing to wed a stranger.

  “As is now, Father. It’s a rare time in history when women outnumber men and have evolved into more than pretty faces at the table…for men who are not stuck in the past.”

  Sanford lifted his wine glass and pushed it toward Blaire in a toast. “Congratulations to my little sister, who has found a man with a good profession to support her and one who is brave enough to wed a mature, independent woman such as our Blaire.”

  “Hear, hear,” the voices of one other brother, Timothy, and a sister, Rosalie, joined Sanford in expressing joy around the table, but Russel Davis did not toast his daughter. After casting a frown in his wife’s direction, Mabel—whose hand was poised to raise her glass above the linen table covering—unwound her fingers from the crystal goblet, lowered her hand, and grasped the other, tightly in her lap. This action sparked concern in Blaire, and for the first time, she pondered the depth of true intimacy between her parents. If their beginnings had not provided happiness, was she a fool to think a relationship with Doctor Lyle Frazer in Minnesota had any chance of fulfilling her romantic notions of life with a man?

  Once again, the family fell into silence, and Blaire rushed through her meal; the swiftness of her effort to finish proved grueling. She sighed dramatically and collapsed against the tall-backed chair. The velvety material cushioned her spine, and she suddenly felt displaced in the dining room’s elaborate setting. Formality slipped easily into the memories she would label as her past, determining her future home would be simpler and more relaxing in its décor and atmosphere.

  A pampered life at Pine Crest Estate was the only reality Blaire had known. Despite her parents’ disapproval, she rallied her adventurous spirit and cast her father’s constant nagging remarks—declaring she was “a naïve, aristocrat with dreams beyond her reach, little brain and too much heart”—out the window, allowing the cool breeze to blow it far away. There was no such thing as too much heart, and as for a little brain, she’d proven that untrue in her case.

  She straightened her form, forcing determination to override her doubts. For the remainder of the meal, Blaire withdrew from the conversation. Relieved when her plate was finally empty, she dabbed the corners of her mouth w
ith the cloth napkin. “May I be excused, Father? I believe the rain has stopped, and I’m in the mood for a walk in the garden.”

  “Yes, go,” he said forcefully. “Be sure to smell the roses that grow in your mother’s garden while you speculate on yours in some far-off state with deploring bouts of weather bad enough to kill your best efforts.”

  Mabel smiled at her daughter. “He is angry because he will miss you, Blaire. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  Blaire wondered if that was the case. Would her father miss her or be grateful to have her out from under his roof and living her own life? Every parent should work towards that goal—to see their offspring mature and set up housekeeping elsewhere, or at least, that was the way Blaire understood the progression of the circle of life.

  Blaire crossed the wide expanse of the covered porch, supported by grand columns placed five feet apart, rising to a balcony upstairs. The upper level was where the family gathered on hot summer evenings. She held the white railing and started down the stone steps.

  The refreshing breeze and evening sun scattered all signs of the dark clouds that had hung in the sky throughout the day. Drained of the excessive rain that had pounded the earth earlier, the sky now offered its reward. A colorful rainbow arched across the horizon, bringing hope and promise for a better day tomorrow, not only for the weather but maybe her future, as well. Acres of Davis property spread before her. Admittedly, she’d miss the majesty of the fertile pasture lands, rolling hills, and trees that made you happy to breathe God’s fresh air. Blaire sighed and prayed that Minnesota would have wonders of its own to remedy the homesickness she was certain to suffer.

  While Blaire made her way along the stone path leading to the private gardens, her mind conjured vivid pictures of when her world had turned upside down.