Monica's Mystery

  Monica’s Mystery, a Sweet Historical Western Romance

  Grandma’s Wedding Quilts, Book 5

  Kate Cambridge

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Grandma’s Wedding Quilts Series

  About the Author

  MONICA’S MYSTERY

  GRANDMA’S WEDDING QUILTS, BOOK 5

  A Sweet Historical Western in the Multi-author Sweet Americana Club Series

  By Kate Cambridge

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  Be sure to check out all the books in the Grandma’s Wedding Quilts Series. The links to all the books can be found at the end of this book.

  Kate Cambridge is a bestselling Amazon author, writing both Sweet Historical Romance and Sweet Contemporary Romance books

  .

  Visit KateCambridge.com

  * * *

  Copyright © 2017 by Kate Cambridge

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or book reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used or embellished fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Property of Kate Cambridge, January 2017

  For Monica.

  Although this is a work of fiction, your spirit, intelligence, independence, and heart are real-life inspirations. I love you and couldn’t be more proud.

  1

  Miles disappeared beneath her and trees raced by as Monica Benton gazed with anticipation through the smudged pane of glass. It would be hours still before she reached her destination, yet the weight of her long journey did nothing to dampen the excitement that bubbled inside. Her lip would be bloody if this kept up, simply from the number of times she bit it to hold back the smile threatening to break loose. She was free—for the first time in her life she was free!

  The moment Monica embarked on this trip, she knew there would be an entirely new life waiting for her on the other side. It didn't matter that she'd told her family she’d only be going for a brief visit. It didn't matter that Jeb still waited for her back in the small town that they both grew up in. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t said goodbye to her friends… at least not in this moment.

  Jeb. Just the thought of him sent a shiver of dread right down to the pit of her stomach. His horrible proposal and the fight with her father that followed… Neither of them had taken kindly to her emphatic “No!,” but what did anyone expect from a proposal like that?

  He was everything she detested in a man, and stupid to boot. Monica cringed at her thoughts, and she knew God wasn’t pleased. Yet she had to believe that even God would not want her to marry a man who thought women were nothing more than a doorstop, a maid, a cook… and she shuddered to think what else.

  She closed her eyes tight, trying to block the memory of his proposal, if one could even call it that. He’d burst through the door of her family's home, interrupted her in the middle of her chores, grabbed her arms and swung her around. He removed his hat, clutched it to his heart, looked into her eyes, and spoke the words she always dreaded hearing.

  “Monica Benton, will you be my wife?”

  Repulsed, she’s blurted “No—!” before she could think to stop it—her mind screaming, No, never!

  But of course, her father had walked through the door just after Jeb, and her family had gathered round. Her mother had gasped at Monica’s outburst, and Monica re-lived the moment as the train rocked beneath her. She’d felt suspended in air between shock and the desire to laugh herself silly. But the look of displeasure and anger in her father’s eyes had quickly brought her back to earth.

  She’d swallowed and clenched her fists, fighting to bring herself under control as she took a few steps back.

  “Oh, Jeb, really? I—I don’t quite know what to say, but I do think it's a bit soon to be proposing. We haven't even been on a proper date, have we?”

  “Who needs a proper date?” he insisted. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, and everyone knows we're a good match, Monica. My cabin is nearly finished and we can be wed by the end of the week. Maw and Paw said we could live in their house until it’s ready.”

  That was when her heart slammed so hard against her chest she thought that her fair skin would surely bruise.

  “That's n—not possible.” Breathless, she turned to her father, with the hope that he might be reasonable.

  “Well, it is a bit sudden, but anything’s possible, Monica. Jeb’s right, you know, you’ve known each other for your whole lives.” her father's voice boomed brusquely. Whenever he spoke, it was more of a declaration than a conversation. He had an impact on everyone around him through the power of his voice, and the strength he packed behind it. His towering height, broad shoulders, and commanding presence made any man think twice before defying him, let alone a woman. But when it came to Monica, none of these factors intimidated her.

  “No. I'm sorry. I mean no disrespect, Jeb, but I'm just not ready to marry. Father, we've talked about this... There are other things I want to accomplish,” she swallowed, “first.”

  Her father’s eyes bore into hers. “I've heard all about the suffragettes and the nonsense that they're filling your head with. That's all the more reason to get you settled as Jeb's wife. Once you're settled down, you won't have time to focus on these distractions and fanciful notions, and you will finally have a future. Yes, I think Jeb’s idea is a good one.”

  “I can't possibly be a wife, father. You don't understand, you never will, but you can't force me to marry. I’m sorry, but I will refuse. I will do anything to prevent it.”

  “I could force you to do whatever I please, Monica.” Her father’s muscular arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes, as dark and foreboding as any predator's, bore down into hers with the weight of unquestionable authority. “But I will not. You will marry Jeb one day, not because I force you, but because you will come to your senses. I would not curse a good and decent man with a rebellious wife. Until you are willing to embrace marrying him, you will no longer have the luxury of my home or the sustenance that I provide. If you truly believe that a woman can provide for herself and live just as well on her own without the aid or obligation of a husband, then get out this minute and do just that. We’ll see how quickly you return.”

  “Please—that's too cruel, Franklin.” Her mother stepped in, with a halfhearted attempt to persuade her father to reconsider. “Couldn’t Monica just—”

  “Silence!” The word ripped through the air like the sharp crack of a whip. “It's our fault she's this way, Delia. We’ve coddled her. We've let her believe that she's entitled to an easy life without any of the sacrifice that we have both endured to give her that life. She's disrespecting more than the sanctity of marriage, she's disrespecting both of us. How must it make you feel to think that your daughter is ashamed of being a wife and a mother? We created this problem, and it is our responsibility to fix it. I will not be questioned on this. She will marry or she must be out of my house by the end of the week.”

  “Father! You don't mean that!” H
e'd threatened it before, as their arguments often ventured past debate into all out verbal war, but this—this was the first time she did not see fury in his eyes. Rather, she saw a cold, detached certainty that made arguing pointless. He means it this time, she thought. He's going to send me away if I don't marry Jeb. With pleading eyes, she’d looked toward her mother, but her mother had turned her back, the tremble of her shoulders barely discernible. Monica understood that her mother loved her father, but did she always need to acquiesce to her father’s wishes? She needed her support at this moment more than any other.

  Desperately, Monica turned to face the man her father wanted her to marry. He was everything her father was—and nothing she wanted. The thought of his hands on her, decisions about her life being made by him, it all made her throat tighten with dread. Jeb was just a man, but to her, he was the deepest pit in the most desolate land. He was going to swallow her whole, and spit out only the bones. Tears stung her eyes as she watched his lips curve into an easy smile.

  “Surely you can't want this, Jeb. There are many women in this town that would be elated to marry you. They would kiss your feet, and cook your meals, and give you everything you could ever dream of having. Why me?” she’d nearly pleaded.

  “Oh, I like a challenge, Monica.” He’d chuckled and swept his gaze along her body. “Not to mention—you're beautiful, and though you might not show it at this moment, I know that your mother has raised you up to be an excellent wife. Once I’ve made you settle down, I will not regret my decision, and until then, well,” his eyes danced with mirth as they met hers again. “I will enjoy the fight. I only want what's best for you, Monica. How do you think any other man in this town will treat you? Do you think they will stand for your disrespect or suffragette ways? Were it not for the fact that I’ve made my interest known, there would be men lined up at the door, just chomping at the bit to subdue you into a proper wife. Is that what you want? Would you rather have one of them? Is that what this is about?” She’d watched his eyes spark with anger as he reached out and grasped her hand by the wrist. She squirmed with disgust as the caress of his flesh against hers inspired a sensation of revulsion. “I can be stronger in my demands, if that's what pleases you.”

  “No!” She’d burst out for the second time in minutes. She’d jerked her hand away, fighting back the tears that that threatened, “I don't want this. Not any of it. I shouldn't be forced into marrying.” Two tears escaped. It made her feel like a child to cry, weak, when she was so furious all she wanted to do was throw punches.

  “Oh, Monica, don’t do that,” he cooed, his eyes on her trembling lips, desire in his eyes. On the surface, Jeb’s tone was as sweet as honey, but to her ears each word he spoke dripped with acid. She’d felt certain that she would dissolve into nothing the moment that his lips touched hers. What kind of man felt desire when a woman was in distress?

  He’d had the choice to walk away, to deny her, but she—she had none of those options. Instead, she was faced with an ultimatum to lose her freedom or lose her entire family. It infuriated her.

  Panic seized her heart for a moment, but then she began to formulate a plan. She'd told herself from a very young age that the only way she could be overcome was if she was outsmarted. Jeb and her father were no match for her.

  “Please, I just need a little more time. Is that so much to ask?” She looked between Jeb and her father. “Ellen—Ellen Howe asked if I could visit her in Galveston, and this, well, it would be the perfect time. Aren't I entitled to at least a journey to visit a friend before my entire life changes and I have to settle down?”

  “A trip?” Her father's brow furrowed, but she’d noticed his tense jaw soften. “Yes, father, out west, to visit Ellen. She's invited me several times. And it—it will be good for me to see what it's like to live as a married woman. She is quite happy with her husband, and maybe spending time with her would help me accept this...” She’d swallowed back the vile taste in her mouth as she spoke each word. Guilt had pierced her heart, but only for a moment. She’d always been honest with her father in the past, and deceiving him wasn’t right, but neither was marriage to a man she didn’t love—much less like or respect.

  This was her way out. The farther she could get from their control, the more likely it was that she would manage to escape them for good. Her father's warning was accurate. Without her father's name, or a husband to provide for her, it would be impossible to live on her own in her hometown. She would be faced with numerous difficulties that likely would result in forcing her to submit to the will of the men who controlled her life.

  The memory of that conversation caused her throat to tighten, even as the wheels of the train continued to chug along as if nothing had changed. She forced a deep breath to fill her lungs. She tried to shake off the vivid memory and return to the anticipation and excitement she’d felt just moments before. She was on her way to Galveston!

  Visiting Texas would be her chance at freedom. In the end, it had been her mother who’d convinced her father to let her go on this trip, and Jeb had left with a pout on his face. What none of them knew was that she didn't plan to return—ever.

  How that plan would work she hadn't quite figured out. Her fingertips twisted through the cloth handkerchief she held in her lap. One step at a time, she reminded herself. Freedom comes in pieces.

  That's what she'd heard at a recent speech given in secret by a well-known suffragette. She'd spoken about taking liberties wherever possible, and capitalizing on them, until more were available to women. Yes, it would be wonderful if a woman could walk into a room as freely and equally as any man, own a business, vote… but that was not yet the case. Women had to fight for what rights they had, and in the process, sometimes they had to be clandestine.

  This idea was something Monica was very familiar with. As a child, she'd learned to be quite resourceful when it came to finding ways to play just like the boys. It drove her mother crazy, but she couldn't stand the thought of being stuck in dresses and occupied with sewing, while her brother got to play ball, ride horses, and roll in the mud. At one point, before she’d realized certain opportunities were not open to girls, she’d dreamed of being a spy or a lawman. She’d dreamed of living a life of adventure. But those dreams were dashed by the laces of a corset and the rules of a world run by men. That is, until now.

  She drifted off to sleep, lulled by the chugging of the train, with the memories of those hopes and dreams playing through her mind.

  2

  Her eyes opened at the screech of the wheels against the tracks. The sound jolted her heart into a faster rhythm. This was it. Soon the train would pull into the station and she would step out into a brand new life, one that she hoped would have far fewer limitations. But was her father right? Was she being fanciful? Was she too weak to handle it?

  In her imagination, the Wild West was full of wide-open spaces, and endless opportunities. As she stepped off the train, she was struck by the brightness of the sun, faced with a crowd of people and an immediate sense of disorientation. Her gaze flicked through a sea of unfamiliar faces in search of the one smile that she’d hoped would greet her. As she waded through the strangers around her, questions crowded her thoughts. How did she ever think she would be able to make it on her own here? She had no one to fall back on. The only person she knew in this world was Ellen.

  "Monica!" A cheerful voice called out to her from beyond the crowd. There she was, with her brunette curls tangled beneath a pinned hat, and her beautiful, welcoming smile spread from ear to ear. Ever-friendly Ellen, with her arms open wide to give Monica a hug. Monica raced toward her friend, and for the first time since they'd parted ways, she felt whole again.

  “Oh Ellen, how I've missed you!”

  “I've missed you, too.” Ellen's bright brown eyes gazed into hers. “Are you well? Was the journey horrible?”

  “It was long, and tiring, but I am well, and happy—” she sighed and glanced around the train station again, “no
w that I am here.”

  “We shouldn't linger long, there is a carriage waiting for us. Keep your bags close and stay right beside me. Thieves around here see the bustle of the train station as an opportunity to steal.”

  Monica tightened her grip on the handles of her two suitcases and looked around at the strangers with new interest. How many were thieves looking to snatch the few things she now possessed?

  Ellen escorted her to a carriage that waited outside of the train station. Its wheels seemed a little rickety, and the hard bench inside was a far cry from the padded seats she was used to back home. She settled her bags around her feet and braced herself for the lurch of the carriage.

  Moments later they were off through the large town. Ellen pointed out several points of interest along the way, the new opera house, shops and buildings that were impressive and huge to Monica’s eyes. Monica did her best to pay attention to the descriptions she gave, but she was distracted by the newness of it all. Many of the buildings that she grew up around had been there for years, while these buildings looked fairly new—and some were gargantuan compared to the smaller buildings she was accustomed to. The scent of the sea clung to the air with promises of international trade and exotic goods. She was both inspired and more than a little intimidated by the size of the town. Excitement tugged at her mind at the new opportunities before her, and mixed with doubt as she realized she just as easily could disappear in the corridors between buildings, and the crowds that populated Galveston.

  “Will you always live here, Ellen?” She asked as she suddenly realized Ellen had given up on her verbal tour when she noticed that Monica wasn't commenting on her descriptions.

  “I think so, yes. Jacob likes it here, and he says that the town will only grow. One day, it will be like we are living in a big city. Won't that be nice?”