Prologue

Chester, Mississippi

1860

“Jane, listen to me—”

Jane held up her hand and adjusted her bonnet. “No, you listen to me, Alice Calahan. There is nothing further to discuss.”

Alice frowned and reached for her sister’s hands. “Jane, please. It has already been a week of you searching for a job.”

“I know the search hasn’t yielded the results we hoped for, but we can’t give up hope.” Jane lifted her chin. “I won’t stay without a job forever, so you shouldn’t be afraid, Aly.”

“I wish you would let me do more to help,” Alice whispered, studying her sister’s heart-shaped, porcelain face. “There is much I can do.”

Jane shook her head and gave Alice’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “You already do plenty with your writing—and when you are a published writer, as father intended, we shall have more to celebrate. And that is all there is to say upon the matter.”

Except both Alice and Jane knew it was not true.

Since Jane had lost her job at the textile factory two weeks earlier, due to a fire that destroyed the building, the sisters had fallen into dire straits. As much as Alice hated to admit it, they could not continue to live off the meager stipend she made selling her stories to the local magazine. Even under an assumed male identity, Alice hardly made anything, and what little she did make had been supported, in large part, by her sister, who had toiled and sweated at the factory for the better part of the last year.

Over the past two weeks, Jane had spent every waking hour out on the streets of Mississippi, leaving no stone unturned in her search for a new job. Each evening when she returned, Alice needed only to take one look at her sister’s solemn face to learn the truth.

But she refused to believe the good Lord had abandoned them in their hour of need. Not when He had already lifted them up from obscurity and poverty once. Alice believed He would do so again, in His good time.

“Come now.” Jane touched Alice’s cheek, giving her a strained smile. “We’re not out on the streets yet. There is still time to turn things around.”

Alice threw her arms around her sister and sighed. “I pray you are right.”

Jane patted her back as they lingered a moment longer near the fireplace, which was old and cracked with the passage of time and smelled of ash and dust. When Jane reached for the coat tree and donned her coat, Alice gave her the ghost of a smile. Alice was reluctant to see her go, especially as she was left in the small apartment the two of them occupied with nothing but four walls and her own thoughts for company. Once the door clicked shut behind Jane, Alice glanced around the room and sighed again.

Unable to sit still, she wandered into the bedroom and adjusted their pallets, fingering the scratchy fabric of the covers ruefully. She latched the window and made her way back into the sitting room.

Sparsely furnished with a single couch with questionable stains and an old desk in the corner by the window overlooking the street, it was not much, but it was the place she and Jane had called home for nearly twelve months now.

Since the untimely and sudden death of their father, they had not had much in the way of money and even less in the way of suitable lodgings. One year ago, when their dear father did not wake, their entire life had been turned upside down. Thankfully, their landlady, an older woman by the name of Mrs. Langford, had taken pity on the two girls and offered them a room.

Between Jane’s job at the textile factory and Alice’s submissions to the magazine under the assumed identity of Allistair River, the two of them had done as well as could be expected. The little they made went towards food and lodgings, and Alice had always suspected they would one day be forced into this very position, facing destitution and a life of poverty.

Yet, since Alice was not yet nineteen, Jane hadn’t the heart to allow her sister to do more to earn her keep. At twenty-four, Jane had been more than generous with her own time and wages, preferring to take the burden of supporting them almost entirely upon herself.

Were it not for the fact that Jane wished to provide Alice with a comfortable life, allowing her the time to write, Alice’s situation would’ve been different. She knew of several young ladies her age who had been employed for years.

Many of them, like her sister, were already worked to the bone.

The burning of the factory where Jane had worked was a tragic affair and had been the talk of the town for several days, but once the embers had been put out and the shock had worn off, it had dawned on the workers that they were in need of new employment. While Alice had heard of several who had managed to find work elsewhere, her poor sister was not among them.

With a frown, Alice pulled out her chair and sat down at her old desk, with its chipped corners and burnt edges. She picked up her pen, dipped it in the inkwell and paused over the piece of paper. When she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and read out what she had written in the story thus far, she was filled with a sense of dismay.

Her character’s circumstances reflected Alice’s own dilemma. She too did not know how to proceed after the death of her beloved parent, and she felt like a burden living off her sister’s hard work.

Surely there was more Alice could do to help herself and Jane.

Pulling her shawl around her shoulders, Alice looked out the window at the hustle and bustle of the streets below. In the distance sprawled a large cotton plantation, owned by the richest man in the city. Beyond it lay the Mississippi river, glistening underneath the early afternoon sun. Alice turned her attention back to the task in front of her but found she could not focus. With an impatient hum, she rose to her feet and began to pace the length of the room in an attempt to clear her mind.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the hearth, she grimaced. Her red hair was unkempt, her hands ink-stained, her petite frame lacking, and she could not help but compare her appearance to that of her sister, who had a tall, willowy frame and a dignified bearing. Where Jane’s hair was lustrous and shiny and always pulled back from her face, Alice’s was wild and unruly, and she could never quite get it to behave the way she wanted it to.

Although the Calahan sisters shared the same fair complexion, red hair, and green eyes that their mother bore, the similarities ended there. Even their personalities were wildly different. Why, Alice was certain that Jane would not let her worries distract her from the task of writing. Alice, on the other hand, could spend an entire day unable to compose more than a few scribbled sentences.

Not writing would only serve to hasten the ruin lingering on their doorstep. Considering all that Jane had done and given up for her, the least Alice could do was try.

Her mind was spinning as she returned her attention to the story and carefully wrote through the remainder of the afternoon.

Sometime later, her shoulders hurt, and the sun had slipped below the horizon, bathing the world in soft hues of pink and purple. She felt some small relief at having accomplished a part of her task for the day, but she could not shake off the unease that had settled around her shoulders.

Alice rose to her feet and glanced at the door, hearing footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Jane, in her faded old dress, a hand clutching the bonnet on her head. Jane paused to unlace her shoes by the door and let her hand fall, holding the bonnet to her side.

Alice noted the tight set of her sister’s shoulders and the frown on the edge of her small, red lips and knew it had not gone well. “Have you had any luck?”

Jane shook her head and ran a hand over her hair. “I even asked Mrs. Langford for employment, but she has nothing.” Jane’s hand darted out from underneath her coat, revealing a small bag. She set it on the table. “Let’s eat. I managed to get us some bread and cheese for dinner.”

She took out the contents of the bag and set them down on the small, circular table in front of the fireplace. Alice crossed the room from her desk, her stomach grumbling at the sight of the meager meal.

“I know that times have been hard,” Jane said, as if reading her mind, “but remember what Mama used to say?”

Alice sat down on the couch and tore off a piece of bread. “You remember Mama far better than I.”

Jane sat down opposite her and took the other piece. “Mama was a wise woman, and she always said there is much to be thankful for.” She paused to reach for the tinder box. She struck a spark to the candle from the middle of the table, and in a moment, the red and orange flame lit her delicate face, giving her a soft and eerie glow. When she set the candle down between them, it cast long shadows across the walls.

While they ate, Alice listened for the sounds that usually filled the hallways of Mrs. Langford’s boarding house, from the pitter-patter of little feet belonging to the young family upstairs, to the soft moaning of the sick, old man below.

Alice clutched her shawl tighter around her. She was thankful. But she was also prepared to be practical. “I could find other means of employment.”

Jane tucked her stocking-clad feet underneath her, looking both weary and resolute. “Then you would not have time for your writing.”

“I think it is far less important than surviving.”

Jane waved her comment away. “We need not worry about that yet. I will continue my search, and I’m sure I’ll find something.”

Although Jane was at times painfully pragmatic and logical, preferring to stick to facts and what she saw to be true, Alice knew that, in the end, it was Jane’s selfless nature that made her so determined to find another way. It was because of her sister’s generosity and good nature that Alice had been able to carry on as she had, spending her days writing and her nights thinking of ways to better herself.

But she could not allow her sister to shoulder the burden any longer. Jane had been a kind, dutiful, and loving sister her whole life, and she deserved more. It was hardly fair that Alice was allowed to pursue her dream while Jane suffered alone. Alice could not bear the thought any longer.

Nor could she stomach the thought of being cast out onto the harsh and unforgiving streets.

“Do you remember what Papa said before he passed?” Alice glanced over at Jane, at her heart-shaped face and the freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks. A surge of gratitude and love rose within her and steeled her resolve. “He said we must always value family, but he also encouraged us to pursue our dreams. He wanted both of us to be able to do that, Jane.”

Jane brushed crumbs from her dress and reached for the cheese. “Can’t it be my dream to care for my sister?”

“If it is what you truly wish,” Alice replied, after a brief pause. “But I’m sure there is more you want in life… You used to sing when we were younger, and you had such a beautiful voice.”

“You cannot make a living off of singing. And that’s not the kind of life I want for myself.” As close as the two had always been, Jane could be frustratingly inscrutable.

Alice studied her sister from across the table. “Is this because of what Papa made me promise?” With his dying breath, their father had urged Alice to promise to pursue her writing. Even as he lay wasting away, he had not given up hope that someday Alice would become a respected writer publishing under her own name. “Didn’t he make you promise something too?” she pressed gently.

“He made me promise to watch over you,” Jane revealed, a sad smile hovering on her lips. “And he told me to be kinder to myself,” she admitted. “I could not have hoped for more sound advice.”

Even in the throes of a sudden and violent illness, he had never stopped to think of himself. Alice was overcome with a pang of loneliness and grief over a father she missed terribly. Jane reminded her so much of their father, never thinking of herself and forever putting others first. It was, perhaps, why their father had seen fit to encourage Jane to be kinder to herself, and Alice intended to help Jane see her promise through.

“Have you asked Elliot for his advice?” Elliot Mullins was a childhood friend, and he and Jane had helped each other out of scrapes plenty of times in the past. Alice had suspected him of being in love with Jane for years now, but her sister was vague about her feelings toward him.

“Elliot will simply ask me to marry him again.”

Again? Alice’s heart leaped a little at the disclosure, and she paused a moment before answering.

“Perhaps it’s something you should consider,” she said carefully. “He is a good man, and he will make you happy, I am sure of it.”

“Happiness it not what matters here. Someday, you’ll understand.” With a sad smile, Jane stood up and ran a hand over her face. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.” It was obvious that the subject was being closed, and Alice forced herself to quell her bubbling questions. She stood as well, and Jane pulled her in for a hug.

“Sleep well.”

When Jane disappeared into the bedroom, Alice carried the candle to her desk and sat there, mulling over the matter further. By candlelight, she studied all she had written the past few weeks, but her stories of far-off lands and adventure for her spirited heroines did not bring her the joy they usually did. Instead, they brought a feeling of dread and disappointment.

Alice could not stop thinking about her own life and how differently she would construct its story if she could. Jane loved Elliot back—Alice was sure of it now. That sad smile and the statement, “Happiness is not what matters here,” had given her away.

“Someday you’ll understand” indeed, Alice huffed inwardly. Were it up to her, she would ensure a “happily ever after” for all of them, with Jane marrying her childhood love, Alice becoming an established writer, and all of them living out the rest of their days in peace and harmony. But she was well aware of the hurdles that stood between them and such a future—money for food and shelter being the foremost.

Had her father still been alive, he would’ve known what to do.

Her father, a schoolmaster, had believed in the education of women and had taken it upon himself to teach his daughters. When their mother had passed when Alice was scarcely three years old, he had not succumbed to his grief and despair. Rather, he had held his head high and endeavored to provide the two of them with the best life he could. For that Alice was forever grateful.

The thought of her dearly beloved papa brought tears to her eyes, as it usually did. She set down her story and wept silently for the man who had believed in her and encouraged her to pursue her dreams. Even on his death bed, he had not stopped believing that Alice was to become something great.

She still missed him with a fierceness that surprised her and often took her breath away. She could still hear his voice in her head and picture his smile whenever he spoke to her.

“Oh, Papa,” Alice whispered, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She picked up the picture she kept on her desk of the three of them together. “What am I to do?”

The harder she tried to picture a life for herself as a published and recognized author, the harder she failed. In their current predicament, she could not afford such lofty dreams and aspirations, not at the expense of their suffering. The thought of giving up her dream weighed heavily on Alice, but she would do all that she could for herself and for Jane.

Survival was all that mattered.

While her sister lay fast asleep, Alice knelt at the foot of her pallet and clasped her fingers together, begging for the good Lord to see them through. When her eyelids began to grow heavy, she climbed onto her pallet and drew the cover up to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

She felt in desperate need of a miracle to see them through.

Chapter One

“A mail-order bride?” Alice echoed dumbfoundedly. After another long, fruitless day of job-searching, her sister had come home with a newspaper and an announcement.

Jane’s lips lifted into a half smile. “I have found the solution to our problem,” she repeated slowly, as if Alice simply hadn’t heard her the first time. “There is an advertisement in the paper for a mail-order bride.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jane set the paper down on the desk and ran her fingers over the edges. “There is a man in Tennessee in need of a wife. If my search for a job continues to fail, I will write to him.”

Alice’s hands flew to her mouth, shock and confusion fighting for preeminence. “Surely you cannot mean to marry a man you have not met.”

Jane glanced up at Alice, and her expression turned serious. “It’s the best way to ensure a good life for the both of us. This man owns his own ranch; he is financially secure. Once I’m settled, I’ll write to you and send you as much money as I can.”

Alice’s hands fell to her sides. “Jane, you cannot make such a sacrifice. I cannot let you throw your future away. What about Elliot? He will never forgive you.”

Jane folded the newspaper and straightened her back. “He shall have to recover, for I have already turned his proposal down for good.”

Alice’s ears were ringing as she stared at her sister, dismay settling in the center of her stomach. “But why?”

“Alice, you know Elliot is unable to support all three of us on a laborer’s wages—and honestly, I could not ask it of him.” For a moment, Jane’s true feelings showed on her face, and Alice saw them clearly. Jane, for all her bravado, was a big, tangled mess of heartbreak, hope, and honor. “Now, listen—”

“I’m giving up writing,” Alice interrupted. “Jane, I have already spoken to Mrs. Langford about another means of employment, and she has promised to look into the matter. I will not be the one to get in the way of yours and Elliot’s happiness. I cannot.”

Jane shook her head, a determined gleam in her eyes. “You cannot give up on your writing, Aly. Papa would not be happy about it, and neither would I. And you are far too young to seek out meaningful employment.”

But their father was not there, and Alice saw no other way out.

“You know as well as I that there are women much younger than I who are already employed. I can’t let you keep sacrificing yourself to shield me.”

“Those women do not have me for a sister,” Jane said, and Alice saw that she would not be moved.

When her sister had gone to bed, Alice crept back to the desk and unfolded the newspaper. She read through the advertisement a few times, trying to think through all of the possible scenarios of leaving to wed a rancher in Tennessee who was in need of a woman to maintain his house and help him care for the ranch. Then she turned to the employment ads, scanning them without much hope. If Jane could not find employment, how could Alice expect to do so? And how long could they continue to scrape by on her income from writing alone?

No matter which scenario she contemplated, Alice kept coming to the same conclusion.

Answering the ad herself was the only thing she could do.

Without Alice to worry about, Jane would be free to marry Elliot, who was a good and honest worker, capable of providing Jane with a better life than she would ever have working in the factories. As for Alice, a husband, even one she did not know, would provide her with food and a roof over her head. Would not that be an answer to her prayer?

With that thought firmly in mind, she took out a blank piece of paper and ignored the hammering of her heart. Once she was done, she tucked the letter away and padded barefoot into their room. She climbed onto the pallet, stared up at the ceiling, and waited for sleep to come.

In the morning, when she woke up, Jane was gone, leaving a note to explain that she would continue to search for a job while she deliberated over the matter of a husband.

With a heavy heart, Alice sent in her response to the advertisement.

Days later, she was at her desk, skimming through the newspaper’s employment ads again, when she heard Mrs. Langford calling to her with the mail for the day.

“And there’s something for you all the way from Tennessee!” the landlady added, sounding curious.

Heart pounding against her chest, Alice raced down the stairs, took the envelope without explaining, and scanned through the contents on her way back up the stairs. The letter was short, practical, and unemotional. While the rancher seemed grateful to her for replying, he simply sent a small amount of money for travel fare along with the promise of fetching her from the train station himself. She read through the letter again, noticing that he had forgotten to sign his name at the bottom.

It was peculiar.

Yet, Alice was not sure why she had expected anything different from a man she had never met. With trembling hands, she made her way back to their rooms, the envelope tucked close to her chest.

Before Jane returned home, Alice snuck outside into the warm afternoon air. Elliot Mullins sat on the back steps of the building, gazing out into the sun-soaked distance. Alice was relieved he had come in response to her message. She hadn’t been sure he would. Jane had, after all, recently broken his heart.

Elliot had grown into a good-looking man, with a lean build, thick, curly hair tucked under a laborer’s cap, and kind eyes. To Alice, he had always been like a distant older brother, and he and Jane had been as thick as thieves for as long as she could remember. No one could make Jane laugh and smile like Elliot could, and his gentle, steadfast personality was the perfect complement to hers. He was the man Jane was meant to be with, Alice was sure of it.

And she was going to do her part to make sure the two of them were not parted.

Not on her account.

Alice perched on the step beside him, and cleared her throat. “I know you wish to marry Jane, and I am sorry I have not made things easy.”

Elliot turned quickly to her, his dark eyes wide and sad. “I don’t blame you, Alice.”

“That is kind of you, but I feel I’m to blame. Jane feels responsible for me—but I don’t intend to get in the way of her happiness any further.”

Elliot frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Alice held the letter up and sat up straighter. “I’ve written a letter in response to an advertisement in the paper. I have an offer of marriage.” Surprise showed in Elliot’s face, but in true Elliot fashion, he did not question her declaration.

“Congratulations.”

“I am to travel to Tennessee to wed,” Alice continued, as if she had not heard him. “Jane is a good sister. Far better than I or anyone else deserves. If I leave, she will be free to marry without worrying about what’ll become of me.”

“Is that why you wish to travel?” Elliot asked cautiously.