Herding Her Heart

by Kit Morgan

  Herding Her Heart

  The Bride Herder, Book 10

  Kit Morgan

  Herding Her Heart

  (The Bride Herder Book 10)

  by Kit Morgan

  © 2019 Kit Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press and Virginia McKevitt

  Created with Vellum

  License Note

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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

  The End

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Noelle, Colorado, 1896

  Jasmine Hammond finished the dishes, tidied the kitchen and pulled her shawl off its peg by the back door. It was late spring in her hometown of Noelle and that meant the evenings were pleasant enough to take a stroll after supper without having to bundle up like an Eskimo. Her parents, the popular Rev. Hammond and the well-known suffragette Felicity would retire to the parlor to read and talk as they always did. Jasmine enjoyed reading too, but she liked talking better.

  Unfortunately, her parents were not of the same mind.

  Maybe it was because Jasmine liked to talk about everything: cooking, sewing, the weather, school, music, art, religion, politics, and of course higher education. Like her mother, she thought it important for a woman to reach her full potential. Felicity Hammond had written articles for several newspapers over the years and created a few pamphlets for “the Cause”. Considering what a good orator her mother was, it was amazing she didn’t talk more often. Of course, Jasmine’s father talked for a living, especially on Sundays.

  But they didn’t think Jasmine should speak up as much as she did. This led to numerous comments like, “Jasmine, did anyone ask to hear that?” and “Jasmine, you’re doing it again, please be quiet” and “Jasmine, not at the breakfast/lunch/dinner table” and the especially sharp, “Jasmine, that’s enough on the subject, you are not an expert!” Her father would deploy that last one only when truly exasperated. And yet Jasmine found she couldn’t stop – the words kept pouring out of her.

  So now she was learning to channel them into a novel she was writing, a modern romance. Really she’d rather experience one than write about it, but she had her doubts that would happen. Noelle had been built up through mail-order brides. Her father had his hand in that, as had Genevieve Kinnison, whom Jasmine held in great esteem,. Genevieve had brought a dozen mail-order brides to Noelle around Christmas many years ago. That was how her parents met.

  Jasmine knew that if she wrote her own story it would be dull and unromantic. In fact, it was because she had no romance of her own that she decided to write one. Is that why there were romance novels to begin with? She could talk about the subject for hours until her listeners looked like they might scratch her eyes out and flee like a feral cat. And those were the women - who knew what a man would do?

  Thus, she’d found a second way to channel the overflow of words: she took to walking after supper when she could and talking to herself. She’d mumble under her breath when people passed her on the boardwalk so she didn’t disturb anyone else. Most folks saw her coming, put their head down and hurried past. No one wanted to speak to her who didn’t have a lot of time. She understood how years of flapping her gums had affected the people of Noelle, and she sympathized. It was just that if she didn’t get it out, she felt like she’d explode.

  And maybe there was a third way. Genevieve had suggested she become an orator for the cause for women like her mother had. Jasmine was considering it, but she didn’t know if that was the cause she should get behind, or one of them. There were so many causes that needed support, and all of them seemed worthy. She didn’t feel like she could pick just one.

  And she supposed if she were smart, she’d concentrate on finding a husband instead. Unfortunately, the town of Noelle had grown past the boom days when there were huge numbers of single men and almost no eligible women. If anything, it was now the opposite.

  “Good evening, Jasmine.”

  Jasmine looked up with a smile. “Genevieve! I was just thinking about you.” She still felt odd about being so young and calling the woman by her first name, but Genevieve, ever the egalitarian, insisted on it.

  “Were you? Dare I ask?”

  “Well, I was thinking about your suggestion …” Jasmine hung her head, twisting her reticule in her hands. “… but I was also thinking about marriage.”

  “Oh, Jasmine.” Genevieve shook her head in dismay. “I’m afraid the only way you’ll get a husband is to go elsewhere.”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that. I mean, I’d miss my family. If there were enough single men here, you’d be my matchmaker, wouldn’t you? You’ve done it before.”

  “Of course I have, but most of that was years ago,” the matron said gently. “However, I do know of a matchmaker who has an active business in mail-order brides and bringing brides to her hometown to match to the men there.”

  “She does? Is she in Denver?”

  “No, she’s in a small town called Bent. Apparently they have quite a few eligible gentlemen or she wouldn’t have such a thriving business.”

  “Is it a mining town like Noelle used to be?” The mines around Noelle were mostly played out, which partly explained the lack of eligible men. Though Jasmine couldn’t picture herself with a miner, or a farmer – she was more partial to a businessman or banker. But she’d likely have to go to a large city to find one, and she wasn’t sure she’d like that either.

  “It is, but it’s grown like Noelle did, and Creede and some others.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of Creede. Father has always wanted to go there for some reason. He says he’d like to talk to the local residents about things that have happened there.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Genevieve said. “But the woman I told you about, Viola Redburn, has put out a call for more brides. One of the girls at the mission got a letter from her.”

  Well, that was … something. “I could come by tomorrow and you could give me the information,” Jasmine said hopefully.

  Genevieve smiled. “That sounds fine. It’s too bad you didn’t marry one of my boys.”

  Jasmine smiled shyly. “Yes, but they married well.” She shrugged. “Besides, I think I talked their ears off when we were younger.”

  “Yes, you do have that talent.” Genevieve put an arm around her. “But don’t worry, child – there’s a man out there who wants to hear every word you say. You just need to learn how to sort those words and sift them so …” she made a face. “ … not so many come out.” She patted Jasmine on the back.

  Jasmine sighed as Genevieve let go, said her goodbyes and went on her way. Even she knew that Jasmine talked too much. Problem was, Jasmine couldn’t seem to do what the older woman suggested. She continued down the boardwalk, mumbling quietly to herself the entire way.


  “Really, dearest, you must eat something,” Mrs. Hammond said as Jasmine poked at her breakfast.

  “I’m not hungry. I haven’t much of an appetite lately.”

  “What’s the matter? The only time you don’t eat is when you’re upset.”

  She sighed and looked at her plate. Felicity Hammond spoke her mind and never held back. It was one of the things that made her a good suffragette. Jasmine spoke hers, never held back, but people just wished she’d stop. “Do you think I’ll ever get married?”

  “What brought that up? Have you been talking to Genevieve again?”

  “She was a matchmaker.”

  “It’s been awhile. Besides, there’s no one around anymore to be matched to. The boom is over, and we had you so late after your brothers …”

  “I know, Mother.” Jasmine poked at her fried potatoes. “But Genevieve said she knows a woman …”

  Her mother squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, dear, here we go.”

  “What? Using a matchmaker can’t be that bad.”

  “But dearest,” Mother explained. “It means you’d have to leave Noelle, leave us.”

  And there it was. “I know, but … this woman is right here in Colorado. It’s not as if I’d be going to California or someplace far away.”

  “Thank Heaven for that.” Her mother folded her napkin. “Your father won’t like this. He’ll put up a horrible fuss.”

  “But he’s not going to argue against it. We have to face facts – the only way for me to find a husband is if I go elsewhere.”

  Her mother sighed and nodded. “And so you enlisted Genevieve’s help – without telling us.”

  “I happened to run into her on the street yesterday, and it came up. It’s not like I’ve been hiding it from you – I told you right now, and this is the first conversation we had since I saw her …”

  “All right, all right – I wasn’t accusing you of conspiring. But do tell your father at supper – over dessert. Maybe a chocolate cake will help ease the pain …”

  “Oh, Mother, he won’t be that upset.”

  “You watch. He’ll bust a gut when you tell him you want to leave us so you can run off and get married to a man none of us have ever met!” Her mother buried her face in her hands.

  Jasmine gaped, then thought a moment. “Um … isn’t that what you did?”

  Mother’s head came up. “No, actually, I became a mail-order bride for other reasons. And that’s a story for another day. Suffice to say, I’m not happy about this. I understand it, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “But you’ll let me, won’t you? I’m of age …”

  “Yes, you are,” Mother groaned, cutting her off. She picked at a button on her blue day dress. “I think I need to go buy something.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “You only say that when you’re upset.”

  “Is it any wonder?” Her mother studied her. “Look at you. You have your father’s dark hair and eyes. You’re so much like him.”

  “And like you,” she added. Jasmine might have inherited her good looks from her father, but her chatterbox nature was her mother’s.

  “Yes, indeed. Whomever you marry is going to be a lucky man.”

  Jasmine smiled, then swallowed hard. He might be a lucky man, but how would her luck be? What sort of man would she be matched with? Did Viola Redburn own a mail-order bride business, or more of a women’s mission like Genevieve? “I suppose Father and you will want to speak to Genevieve about this.”

  “Of course. We love her, you know we do. If it weren’t for her I might never have come to Noelle all those years ago. But this is different, trust me.”

  Jasmine decided there was no point in arguing. Her mother could debate with the best attorneys. Jasmine could talk, but she wasn’t so great at arguments.

  In fact, she wasn’t so great at a lot of things. She was terribly clumsy – her big brothers Jess and John often teased her about it growing up, and her friends were no better. She also was allergic to chickens and cows, one of the reasons she didn’t want to get matched with some farmer. And she was deathly afraid of horses …

  “Remember, no mention of this before dessert,” her mother warned. “You’ll have a better chance of convincing him if he’s had a good meal and some chocolate cake.”

  Jasmine smiled. “Thank you, Mother. I knew you’d be on my side.”

  “Am I?” Mother objected. “It’s only because I know you want to marry and …” She sniffed a few times and wiped one eye. “… and because I knew this day would come eventually.”

  Jasmine nodded. She was nineteen. All her friends were married. A couple of years ago, when she should have been thinking about setting her cap for someone, she was more interested in books and trying to decide what cause she should take up to follow in her mother’s footsteps. But she still hadn’t decided, and she still wasn’t married, and now the pickings in town were slim. “I can’t help how I feel, Mother.”

  Mother nodded. “I know. It happens to every woman. Just remember that no matter what, you’ll always have a home here.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Mother straightened in her chair. “It means that men can be cruel, little one, cruel and heartless. I pray you aren’t matched with such a man. But if by some chance you are …”

  Jasmine reached across the table. “Don’t. You’ll only make yourself sick with worry. Be happy for me. This matchmaker will find me a fine husband, you’ll see. And I looked on the map – Bent isn’t that far away.”

  “Bent?”

  “It’s where the matchmaker lives.”

  Mother swallowed and nodded. She looked like she needed some air.

  “Maybe we could go to the bookshop tomorrow?” Jasmine suggested, hoping it would sooth both their nerves.

  “Bookshop, yes … we can do that.” Mother straightened in her chair again. “I can think of a few good books for you. Finish your breakfast – we have much to discuss.”

  Jasmine gulped. “No lecture, please?”

  “But I might only have weeks to prepare you. You’ll want to know as much as you can before you embark on your … adventure.”

  Jasmine smiled. “Marriage is an adventure, isn’t it?”

  “It most certainly is. But some adventures are more dangerous than others.”

  Jasmine gulped again and hurried to finish her breakfast.

  Chapter Two

  “You want to do what?!”

  Jasmine glanced at her mother, who’d taken a sudden interest in her peas. No help there.

  Her father, the esteemed Rev. Chase Hammond, shoved his plate away, got to his feet and began to pace. “Jasmine, I won’t hear of it.”

  “But Father, it’s what young ladies do in these situations –”

  “Not my young lady!”

  “Chase,” Mother said calmly. “Jasmine doesn’t want to stay single forever. She’s of marriageable age and if she doesn’t find a husband in the next year or so, people will begin assuming she’s headed for spinsterhood.”

  “Hooey!” her father cried. “These days, lots of women marry when they’re older.”

  “Chase, you’re not helping,” her mother said. “Just because Genevieve was in her thirties when she came here and married doesn’t mean that Jasmine has to wait that long.”

  Jasmine watched her father pace to the end of the dining room and back. “Why not? Doesn’t she want to enjoy her youth? Look at her, she’s still a child.”

  Jasmine gasped. “Father!” Her mother stood and took a deep breath.

  Her father pointed a finger at them. “No. No long diatribe about why our little girl should run away to be married. No begging. No manipulating my emotions.”

  Her mother glanced at her and back. “Chase, Jasmine wants a husband. If she stays here, the chances of finding a good one are almost zero.”

  Her father cleared his throat a few times. “But a matchmaker in another part of the state?”

  “Fathe
r.” Jasmine stood up and came over to him. “You can’t keep me here. I love you, but it’s time for me to … to …”

  “See how indecisive she is? She can’t even make up her mind about what it’s time to do!” He resumed pacing.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “Chase, Jasmine is going to speak with Genevieve in the morning. Either you’re going to support her or not.”

  He stopped. “Of course I support her. She’s our daughter.”

  “You don’t sound very supportive,” her mother pointed out.

  He groaned and looked as Jasmine. “I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you, darling.” He went around the table and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, you know I do, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. But you are the youngest and … maybe I’m being selfish.”

  “You let Jess and John get married, and it’s not like they abandoned you.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t leave town.”

  Jasmine took a deep breath and stepped out of his embrace. “I’m nineteen. I can make my own choices.”

  “Can you?” he fired back. “That’s not your best suit.”

  “Chase!” Mother scolded.

  “Well, I’m making this choice, Father. I want to be married. And I can’t do that if I stay here.”

  “Face it, dear,” Mother said. “The only eligible men here are Leonard Sickwell or Samuel Featherbottom. Do you really want your youngest, your precious only daughter, married to either of them?”

  Father cringed. “Dear me.” He sighed again and turned to Jasmine. “Are you sure this is what you want? Are you ready for marriage to a … stranger?”