by Linda Ellen
A Bride for Finn
The Proxy Brides Book 5
A Bride for Finn
The Proxy Brides Book #5
Linda Ellen
A Bride for Finn
The Proxy Brides Series, Book 5
Written by Linda Ellen
Copyright © 2018 by Linda Ellen
Trade Paperback Release: November 2018
Electronic Release: November 2018
http://lindaellenbooks.weebly.com/
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Although this book is a work of fiction, real locales, streets, and places were used. Brands are used respectfully. Details regarding the cities of Louisville, Kentucky and Brownville, Nebraska, in 1875 were taken from websites, information learned in person, photographs, and other information found online, such as Facebook groups.
The following story contains themes of real life, but is suitable for all ages, as it contains no illicit sex or profanity.
Cover design by Virginia McKevitt
http://www.virginiamckevitt.com
Editing by Venessa Vargas
Proofreading by Kathryn Lockwood
Formatting by Christine Sterling
Reviews
A proxy marriage, traveling to a new city, and a legendary outlaw—all woven into the mosaic tapestry that is one of Linda Ellen’s richly written worlds! A Bride for Finn takes us from the gem city of Louisville to the rustic wonder that is Brownville, Nebraska. Charise and Finn’s romance grows passionate with each word. Couple that with the antics of the townspeople, and the underlying mystery of a certain infamous character, this is absolutely a world you can get lost in.
You can’t help but submerge yourself in this love story that requires a leap of faith and the courage to leave behind the only home and family you’ve ever known for an adventure that would be told for generations.
This intricately layered tale, of taverns turned into barbershops, a proxy husband and a traveling porcelain tub is truly a wonder to read.
~Venessa Vargas, Editor and Author
An incredible love story! Linda brings the characters to life with the first stroke of her pen and I couldn’t help but feel compassion for Finn right from the start. A handsome man with a successful career, he yearned for someone to share his life with. He had been in love but she had only used him, stepping on his heart with no regrets. With no suitable options in the town he lived in, he chose to order a mail-order-bride. I could feel his heartache as he was again taken advantage of and found himself waiting at the train depot for a bride that would not arrive. Feeling the bitterness of betrayal, he was about to give up until his brother offers a solution. But just as soon as happiness seems to be in his grasp a stupid accident happened!
Left standing at the altar, Charise had her own share of heartache. Being a mail-order-bride seemed to be a perfect solution to get her out of town and away from unpleasant memories. Finn seemed like an answer to prayer, but the man getting off the train sure didn’t look like the man described in his letters. Had she made a big mistake?
Although I love the story for the romance, it’s so much more. Drama, heartache, jealousy, humor, surprises and even an outlaw contribute to this amazing tale. A must read for anyone who craves good, clean, love stories.
~Judy Glenn, Beta Reader
Linda has once again created a wonderful story in which a reader would love to get lost. She continues her creative streak with A Bride for Finn, the 5th book in the new The Proxy Brides series.
Linda writes in a way that allows the reader to step into the story and live alongside its characters. The plot is fresh and original, the characters are well developed and relatable, and the writing flows like a gentle stream, allowing the reader to float along and enjoy the journey. I found Finn and Charise’s story quite unique, having never heard of the proxy bride concept before. I loved Finn and Charise’s love story.
Too often Historical Romance books fall into the formulaic plotlines revolving around the main characters either having a misunderstanding and walking away from the relationship, only to come together in the end or enduring one calamity after another to the point of being laughable. I appreciate that Linda doesn’t fall into that pitfall and instead, creates characters that stick together through the rough patches.
A Bride for Finn is fresh, lovable, and sure to be a hit.
~Liz Austin, Beta Reader, Poet, Blogger
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Author Notes
Acknowledgements
Upcoming Proxy Bride Books (2018 Series)
About the Author
Other works by Linda Ellen
Chapter 1
April 1875
Train depot, Brownville, Nebraska
P hineas “Finn” Maynard wiped moisture from his face as he stared down the empty tracks.
Gloomy day. Wouldn’t you know it would start to rain, and the train would be late today? He muttered an off-color word with a frustrated huff. Sending for a mail-order-bride is nerve-racking enough without this.
Turning to inspect his reflection in the sparkling glass of one of the brand new depot’s windows, he saw what he expected to see—his dark, wavy hair plastered flat to his head and the collar of his white shirt no longer crisp from the laundry. The foul weather wasn’t helping his only suit look any better either.
Glancing down, Finn frowned at the drooping flowers gripped tightly in his left hand—the hastily picked bouquet of black-eyed Susans he had thought Miss Irma McIntire might like.
So much for my romantic gesture—might as well chuck these...I wonder where the heck the train is...he pondered as he turned to go back inside the shelter of the depot. After taking only three steps, however, his eyes widened as the train’s whistle sounded from around the bend, north of town. His heart kicked into a gallop and he swallowed nervously and reached up to unconsciously tug at his collar, thinking he had tied the blasted string tie too tightly in his rush to be on time for the train.
Within a minute, a gleaming black and gold locomotive of the Midland Pacific line, followed by its coal tender, passenger car and caboose, chugged around the curve. Belching black smoke from its massive stack, its bright red pilot, or cowcatcher, forged ahead through the mist. Soon the engineer skillfully braked to a stop and Finn stood back against the brick wall of the depot as a loud hiss accompanied a cloud of steam.
The conductor announced their arrival at Brownville before hurrying out to place the portable steps on the wooden surface of the platform. Then he reached up to assist as travelers began stepping down from the lone passenger car.
Finn nodded greetings as he recognized town folks such as JW Furnas and his wife, Ella. Next, Attorney Rupert Brown and his family of six boys exited the car, as well as a few others whose names escaped him at the moment.
Suddenly the small area between the building and the train filled up with people and he craned his neck and dodged heads, trying to catch a glimpse of Irma. Had she told him what she would be wearin
g? He hadn’t thought to remember, as he hadn’t figured on there being a crowd welcoming the blasted train. True, the arrival of the train was still an exciting novelty in town, as the railroad had just finished building the depot and laying the tracks a month prior, but he wished folks would just get out of his way.
A few more passengers disembarked, rushing forward to greet those who had come to meet them, but no new faces emerged. How could that be? Digging in his pocket, he retrieved the telegram from Irma when she’d received the money he wired through Western Union for her to purchase train tickets. Double-checking, he gave a nod as he read again that she would be arriving April 14 on the nine o’clock train. Tugging on his watch chain, he pulled it free of its pocket and pushed the crown on the stem to open the cover. 9:21... He snapped the lid closed again and stashed it away to protect it from the moisture. Where is she? Did something happen? Maybe she missed getting on in Nevada City?
Minutes ticked by as he stood there dumbfounded, staring at the end of the car with the hope that his mail-order-bride had just fallen asleep on the thirty-some-odd mile trip and would disembark soon. Debating whether or not to board the car himself to see if she was, indeed, asleep on one of the seats, he glanced to the right as the last of the passengers’ luggage, as well as the freight, were offloaded. He rifled one hand back through his once-combed hair, leaving it disheveled.
Suddenly the whistle blew again, and the conductor hollered out the customary, “All aboard!”
Several people who had been visiting the pastor of the Baptist church in town came out of the depot and walked toward the now empty passenger car, nodding to Finn as they passed by.
Just as Finn was about to step forward and speak to the conductor standing next to the train’s portable steps, he felt a tap on his arm. Turning, he came face to face with the concerned blue-eyed gaze of his friend Charlie Cooper, Brownville’s telegraph operator and railroad ticket agent. The smaller man tugged on the visor of his uniform cap and gave an apologetic shrug.
“Finn...I hate to deliver news like this, but...” Charlie cleared his throat and mumbled what sounded like, “I’m sorry,” and thrust a small folded piece of paper into Finn’s hand before turning and beating a swift retreat back inside the station.
With a frown, Finn stashed the now soggy bouquet under one arm and opened the telegram, reading Charlie’s neat printing.
To Phineas Maynard, Brownville, Nebraska
From Irma McIntire, Chicago, Illinois
Had to get to my husband in California STOP Used your money for tickets STOP Sorry for deception STOP Will pay you back STOP Irma
Finn blinked drops of accumulated mist from his lashes as he re-read the words, which were now beginning to run together as the rain picked up. Her husband? She took my money and bought tickets to go to...her HUSBAND?
Immediately, he saw himself again standing with a bouquet, only that time it was at the front door of Susie Jeffers’ house as she laughingly told him he only had himself to blame. That everyone in town knew she was over the moon for Brian Allenby. She had merely been using Finn to make Brian jealous—and it had worked. He saw again Brian’s flashing white grin as he and Susie laughed together at Finn’s expense while he turned and stumbled down the steps, their laughter echoing in his head with each step he trudged.
The hand holding the offending piece of paper curled into a hard fist as he realized that once again, he had trusted a female and she had made a big fool out of him.
Women! Are there any good ones out there?
Uttering a curse, Finn cast the ruined flowers and crumpled telegram to the ground. Turning on his heel, he stomped home grousing and muttering as the heavens opened and the rain began to pour down.
No woman will ever do this to me again. Never again!
“So, you just gonna give up on gettin’ married, then?” Finn’s brother, Samuel, asked with a teasing grin.
Standing side by side, one would not think they were even brothers, as Sam had inherited their father’s burley physique, light brown, wavy hair, and brown eyes, while Finn had taken after their mother’s side of the family—dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. Sam wore a full beard and mustache and favored wearing brown plaid shirts with suspenders, while Finn kept clean-shaven and tended to wear soft cotton shirts with a vest. Also, Sam stood four inches taller and outweighed him by at least seventy-five pounds.
Finn sent him a glare and opened his mouth to answer, but his brother chuckled as he sent yet another log through the sawmill’s blade, thereby causing Finn to have to wait until the noise ceased.
Oh, the screech of that blade. Finn had hated the sound of it cutting through the wood ever since Sam had exchanged the mill’s original overshot water wheel with a turbine and replaced the original up and down, or sash-type saw with a circular saw.
The sash saw—a thin, straight blade held in a wooden sash frame that cut only on the down stroke—had been installed by their father when he built the mill and it had been fine in Finn’s opinion. But Sam, fresh out of the military at the end of the war, had seen more industrialized cities and felt the need to modernize and increase the mill’s speed and power. He was sure Brownville would be a thriving river town in the next decade or two and he wanted to be prepared for the building boom he was sure would come.
Finn had argued against the change, insisting that the frustration of the noise and the greater potential for accidents outweighed the additional product that could be produced per hour. Sam told him he was crazy.
Now as the squealing of the blade against the wood made him grit his teeth, but not wishing to hear the customary ribbing from his brother, Finn resisted the urge to stuff his fingers in his ears as the saw made short work of the log.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled when the din abated, picking up a few wood chips and tossing them aside with a huff of aggravation. “Danged if I’m not tired of closing the shop at night and plodding up the steps to eat alone. But you know as well as I that the only single females in town are either way too young or way too old—other than Bertha Simmons, who’s got to be a good eight inches taller than me, and the laundress, Elvira Davis, who talks a nonstop blue streak and never lets a body get a word in edgewise." He shook his head as he thought of times he had been shanghaied by her on the street, unable to get away. I ain’t that desperate for company... least wise yet. “And you know I’m not one for seeking out female companionship at the Lucky Buck,” he added with a pointed look at his older brother, whom he knew had ventured into the aforementioned saloon for that reason at least a time or two.
Samuel chuckled at that last remark, unconsciously smoothing one hand over his bushy beard. “Ma’s not here anymore to skin us alive for patronizing the Lucky, like she threatened a hundred times.” He cringed slightly under Finn’s accusing glare before continuing, “But still, there’s gotta be some way for a fella to find a wife around here—not that I’m in the market, mind you,” he added quickly. “Ma would tell you to pray about it...but I’m guessin’ you’ve done that too, right?”
Finn gave a half-hearted shrug. He had prayed about it...sort of. Hadn’t he?
Both men lapsed into silence as Sam sent another log through the saw. Finn leaned against a support beam, crossed his feet at his ankles, and shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he stared at the sawdust-covered floor, discouraged and disheartened.
Pushing the split, rough boards aside once they cleared the sharp, metal teeth, Sam looked over at his younger brother. “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, getting Finn’s attention. “Instead of having a mail-order-bride travel here to get married—why don’t you hop the train and go to her? That way, you can also see what she looks like and all and decide before you tie the knot. Then bring her back with you on the train already legal and proper-like. You could even spend your weddin’ night in a hotel or somethin’,” he added with a wiggle of his bushy brows.
For the first time in days, Finn’s lips curved into a spontaneous smile and
his dark blue eyes twinkled like the midnight sky. “Now why didn’t I think of that? Brother of mine, that’s the best idea you’ve come up with in a month of Sundays!”
Sam just smiled and gave a nod. “I have my moments,” he agreed, “and hey, if this thing works for you, I just might try it myself!”
This prompted the brothers to let go a few chuckles in easy camaraderie as Sam sent one of the rough boards back through for another pass to knock the remaining bark off the side.
Finn left his brother to his work, deciding to head on over to the telegraph office right then to put a new ad in some of the eastern newspapers’ romance columns.
He laughed to himself when he realized there was a definite spring in his step.
Two weeks later in Louisville, Kentucky
Charise Willoughby let herself in the door of the two-room apartment she shared with her friend, Beth Ann Gilmore, and slammed it behind her, startling her redheaded roommate as she stood at their tiny stove stirring what looked like a pot of potato soup. Beth Ann jumped and turned her head, her mouth open and her green eyes wide.
“What in blue blazes...” she paused, perusing her friend’s face. “Uh oh...don’t tell me. You saw him again,” It was a statement, not a question. Beth Ann knew her friend of five years never got that angry unless Ethan Breckinridge II was involved.
Charise flung her reticule onto the chair near the door and began unbuttoning the jacket of her favorite light blue, linen outfit, which had fancy embroidery decorating the snug bodice and waist, and a short, form-fitting jacket. She had worked many weeks on the finishing touches. A small, feathered hat matched the ensemble and contrasted richly with her dark sable hair. Tossing the jacket onto the chair, she ripped the hat off and hurled it onto the pile while she tried to get her adrenaline under control from the oh-so-recent encounter.