by Kit Morgan
Lottie:
Bride of Delaware
by
Kit Morgan
The American
Mail-Order
Brides Series, Book 1
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
Lottie: Bride of Delaware
(The American Mail-Order Brides Series, Book 1)
by Kit Morgan
© 2015 Kit Morgan
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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, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com
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License Note
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Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
About the Author
Here’s to great ideas born into the mind of my friend, Kirsten Osbourne. For without such brilliance, dear reader, you would not be about to embark on an adventure like no other. And to the dedicated women who helped make it all come true. Pamela Kelley, Cindy Tahse and Sara Benedict. Thank you for all your hard work and dedication to making history!
One
Lawrence, Massachusetts, October 1890
Dear Miss Mitchell,
I find myself replying to your recent letter with pure joy! Your acceptance of my marriage proposal has made me a happy man. Enclosed you will find ample funds to cover your expenses until I arrive. My business is bringing me to Boston where we can be married, or, if you prefer, at a church near your family and friends. We can then head west as husband and wife to my family’s ranch in Clear Creek, Oregon.
I expect to arrive in Boston no later than Thursday next. If you need to reach me, I’ve enclosed the address of the hotel where I’ll be staying. I’ll get in touch with you when I arrive.
Until then, I remain
Your humble servant and now betrothed,
Samuel H. Cooke
Lottie Mitchell’s hand shook as she finished reading. Samuel Cooke was obviously a gentleman. He was also coming here, to Massachusetts? “Oh dear me,” she said and began to fan herself.
“What’s the matter?” her sister Leora asked. “What does his letter say?”
“He’s coming east on business,” she said numbly. “He wishes to marry me here.”
Leora hurried to the small fireplace next to which Lottie was standing. “That’s wonderful! You won’t have to make that long train trip alone!”
“Yes and … and no. I …”
Leora raised a suspicious eyebrow. “The first of us to get a husband, and you’re tongue-tied? One would think you’d be shouting with joy! Hmph! You remember the twins, Lessie and Josie?”
“Yes,” Lottie replied, wondering why Leora brought them up. “They worked in our section of the mill.”
“Well, Lessie went to the Utah Territory, and Josie to the New Mexico Territory. They’re probably both married by now. Now it’s your turn to marry and I haven’t heard so much as a peep out of my gentleman. Not one letter so far!”
Lottie looked at her older sister, regret in her eyes, then saw that they weren’t alone in the room. Alice, Beth and Judith, their housemates, had also been employed by the Brown Textile Mill, which had burned (or been burned) to the ground a little over a month ago. Lottie and Leora had taken them into their tiny home after the fire, as they could no longer support themselves. Dozens of women were out of a job due to that fire. Weeks later, most of them, including Lottie’s quintet, were almost out of money as well.
“How much did he send you?” Leora asked, noting the envious looks of the others.
“Enough to keep us all fed for a couple of weeks, if we skimp,” Lottie told her. “And after I’m gone, you’ll have one less mouth to feed.”
Leora’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank the Lord for that. Your Mr. Cooke is a generous man.” She cocked her head. “Wait a minute … if he’s coming here anyway, why did he send you … oh no. You didn’t.”
Lottie eyed her sister. “I had to do something,” she stated bluntly. “Do you think I’m going to sit back and watch you all starve?”
Leora sighed. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth. I told him the truth – we’re a house full of unemployed women waiting to hear back from men who posted ads in the Grooms’ Gazette. I’m just glad he took pity on us and sent funds to see his future bride through. Though let’s face it, most men don’t prefer emaciated women.”
“Lottie, you shouldn’t have …” Leora scolded.
Lottie’s hackles went up. “And why not? I didn’t lie – I didn’t say anything other than what happened to us.” She glanced around the room at the others. “All of us.” She folded the letter, shoved it into its envelope, then back into the pocket of her apron. Her spectacles followed. “I just wish this Mr. Cooke hadn’t gotten back to me so quickly.”
“Why not?” asked Alice. “I wish I’d hear from my groom!”
“You know why,” Lottie. “I wanted more time to figure this out.”
“Oh no, here she goes again,” Beth groaned, and the women braced themselves. Once Lottie got going on this subject, she didn’t let up. Judith, who’d been standing next to the kitchen door, slowly backed out of the small room, to the envy of the others. Traitor.
“That fire was deliberately started, it had to be!” Lottie struck her palm with a fist and began to pace. “There’s no other explanation.”
“Why can’t you let it be?” Leora pleaded.
Lottie stared at her. Her older sister was quiet, shy, with auburn tresses and dark eyes – a true beauty. She was also the peacemaker of the two. Lottie, with her blonde hair and hazel eyes, was plain except for the freckles that dusted her nose, and opinionated. “You know I’m right.”
“I know that you can’t let loose of something until you’re satisfied. But don’t you see? Your groom is coming here for you! You get to travel together to his ranch out West and start a whole new life. Personally, I’m jealous.”
Lottie stopped pacing. “Your groom will answer – just give it time. I sent my letter out first, remember?”
“That’s because you closed your eyes and let your finger fall onto his ad in The Grooms’ Gazette,” Leora countered. “You picked without thinking.”
“I could never do that,” Beth said with a shudder.
“Nor I,” Alice agreed.
“Can I help it if I had a hard time making up my mind?” Lottie said as she folded her arms in front of her. “At least I chose the page with the better-sounding advertisements.” Besides being opinionated, she was also the risk-taker of the group. But she’d also made sure Leora got the one she needed. A ranch in Oregon meant hard work and lots of it, but Lottie could make herself fit for the
task. Leora was more fragile – she’d steered her toward the pastor from California, a much more suitable situation for her.
Now if only he would answer her letter …
“I heard he was spotted at the train station yesterday,” Beth said out of the blue.
Lottie spun on her. “You mean Mr. Brown?”
The other women glared at Beth. She was the only one who put any stock in Lottie’s theories as to who started the fire and why. Even though said theories were weak at best. “Yes,” Beth stated and stood a little straighter.
“Now we’re in for it,” Alice muttered. The others groaned in unison.
Lottie snatched her shawl from the back of a chair and headed for the door. “Then there isn’t a minute to lose.”
“What?” Leora said and grabbed her arm. “You can’t be serious! Lottie, you have to let it go. What are you going to do when Mr. Cooke arrives?”
“One thing at a time,” she said, heading toward the door again.
Leora held her fast. “And your ‘one thing’ right now should be your new fiancé. You need to sit down and write him back – immediately.”
“I can’t – from the sound of it, he’ll be here almost before I could mail it.” She pulled the letter and her spectacles out of her apron pocket and studied the envelope. “Look at the postmark – he mailed this from St. Louis. He’ll be in Boston on Thursday as he said.”
“Thursday?” Leora squeaked. “But today is Tuesday!”
“I wish it were my future husband coming to get me,” Alice lamented dreamily. Beth put her arm around her and they sighed in unison.
“I’m sure you’ll hear back from your grooms any day now,” Lottie insisted. “Mr. Cooke simply made up his mind quickly, that’s all.”
“Maybe you were the only one to respond to his ad in the Grooms’ Gazette,” Beth suggested. “He does have a ranch. That’s a lot more physical work to take on than, say, a man who owns a mercantile or runs a hotel or …”
“Pastors a church?” Leora volunteered.
“Maybe he needs the extra help,” added Alice.
Lottie closed her eyes and sighed. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but I’ll be fine. Besides, what kind of rancher comes to Boston on business? He can’t be without hired help. Who’s minding this so-called ranch of his if he’s coming east to marry me and take me home with him?”
“He must be wealthy,” Judith shouted from the kitchen.
“If that were so, why would he advertise for a mail-order bride?” Lottie yelled back. When no answer was forthcoming, she once again turned to the door.
“What are you going to do?” Leora asked.
“Go to the train station and try to find out where Mr. Brown went.”
“And if you don’t find out anything, what then?” Leora inquired as the others filed into the kitchen to start supper.
“Then …” she began, hesitant. “Then I guess I marry this Mr. Cooke from Clear Creek and forget about Mr. Brown.”
“You promise?” her sister asked.
Lottie stiffened and pressed her lips together.
“Lottie?” Leora drawled as she crossed her arms in front of her.
“No. No, I don’t promise.”
Leora’s arms fell to her sides in frustration. “Lottie, I don’t want you to miss your own wedding because of Mr. Brown. You might be standing next to your groom at the altar but not even know he’s there. Worse, you might be so busy playing detective that you forget about the ceremony altogether! And I know you – you’re capable of doing just that! You must drop this idea of Mr. Brown setting the mill on fire. Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“Who hasn’t?” Lottie countered. “He wouldn’t be the first man to burn down his own business, nor the last.”
“If he did it,” Leora pointed out. “Face it, you have no proof. Please lay it to rest.”
“If I could, don’t you think I would?”
Leora had no answer to that.
Lottie nodded “I need to check this one thing out, all right?”
Leora nodded, resigned. “I’ll see you later then?”
“Save me some soup.” Lottie headed out the door.
*
Samuel Cooke studied the papers he was to deliver to The Van Cleet Shipping Company. He smiled as he thought of Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Polly, the company’s founding owners – they hadn’t been blood relatives, actually, but they’d always treated him so well that he thought of them as his aunt and uncle. He missed them terribly.
Cyrus and Polly had been the adventurous sort, and had instilled in him the same hunger to discover new things and visit new places. They themselves had traveled a lot in their later years, especially once the railroad came to Clear Creek. Why they’d chosen to spend their lives in such a nothing town instead of Boston, he couldn’t grasp until he got older. But now he understood.
They’d built a beautiful hotel in Clear Creek, and made the town into what it was today – a jewel, if a small one. Cyrus was the town’s first mayor, and had endeared himself to the community and its residents, especially the Cooke family. Sam was more than happy to travel to Boston to take care of business for the company, which the Cookes now owned and ran. Besides, it would give him a chance to see his cousin Asher, who managed it.
“I just hope he doesn’t lecture me about getting a mail-order bride,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s that?” Ferris Kincaid asked. Ferris had been a faithful employee of the Triple-C Ranch, and Sam’s best friend, for years.
Sam glanced up. “Sorry. Just talking to myself.”
“Worried, aren’t you?”
“Not at all, just …”
“Nervous,” Ferris teased. “Go ahead, admit it – no shame in it. I’d be nervous too. It’s not every man who sends off for a mail-order bride and doesn’t tell his family.”
Sam grimaced at the mention of his family. “They’re going to have a fit. Especially Mother.”
“Your mother will love her. Besides, how can she blame you for taking such measures to secure a wife? There are no women your age in Clear Creek at the moment – none you’d want, anyway. What’s a man to do if he wants to wed?”
“I suppose you think I’m a coward, offering to take these reports to Asher just so I can bring the girl back with me.”
“Not at all. I know you like to travel, and it gave me the opportunity to come with you. I’ve never seen Boston.”
Sam smiled. “It’s big. A lot bigger than Portland or Oregon City, or even Seattle. Your mother should have come with us.”
“Ma would have if Pa could come. But they can’t stand to be apart, so she stayed. Maybe next time a trip needs to be made, it won’t be during a cattle sale.”
Sam nodded. Ferris’s father had been the foreman for the Triple-C since before Sam was born. At fifty-seven, the man could still rope and ride better than most half his age. Sam hoped to be able to do the same for as many years and more. But he also liked the big-city bustle and had contemplated going to work with his cousin Asher. That was one more reason to obtain a bride from the East – she’d already be familiar with city life. Or so he hoped.
“I’m surprised your aunt Sadie didn’t suggest a mail-order bride,” Ferris said, pulling him from his thoughts. “She and your mother managed to bring enough of them to Clear Creek over the years.”
Sam had to smile at that. His mother Belle and Aunt Sadie were thick as thieves when it came to matchmaking, and he’d lost track of the brides they’d managed to bring to town. Once their own children became old enough to marry, they’d focused on them … but the pickings in eastern Oregon were still slim a generation later.
They wanted their children to choose for themselves whom they would marry, resisting the temptation to send off for mail-order brides as so many meddling mothers they’d heard about over the years. There had been some harrowing tales involving brides coming to Clear Creek, as well as frightening tales from relatives and friends up in Now
here, Washington and over in Independence, Oregon.
Unfortunately, there were also those in Clear Creek who’d give their front teeth to marry into the Cooke family purely for monetary gain. Sam’s single siblings and cousins knew this, and some had decided to look for love elsewhere. Sam had just taken things one step further - rather than go to Oregon City or Portland (where, in his opinion, too many folks still knew the Cooke name) in search of a bride, he’d placed an ad in The Grooms’ Gazette. After all, he wasn’t sure which way he was going to go yet: stay out west and eventually take over the Triple-C with his cousins, or move back east and help run the shipping company.
“You should tell your brother Jefferson to send away for a mail-order bride,” Ferris suggested.
“Jeff? If he ever comes back from England, I might.”
“If?”
“He loves it there. And he’s the oldest male heir after Father and Uncle Harrison, so Uncle Duncan is grooming him to inherit the title and estate. You know that.”
“Yes, but he’ll only inherit if something happens to your uncles.” Ferris turned to him, his face serious. “So are you planning to tell your bride about your family’s heritage and holdings before or after you’re married? That sort-of-British accent of yours is going to make her curious.”
Sam laughed. “I suppose I’ll have to explain a few things, the most obvious being that my grandparents came from England to America to start a cattle ranch. Grandfather was killed in a wagon accident, Grandmother re-married in order to come west, raised her sons with the sons of her second husband – who were pig farmers, not cattle ranchers – until the day she died. Most unfortunate that, but the explanation should satisfy.”
“She’ll have to take your word for it,” Ferris put in. “And yes, most unfortunate, the whole dirt-poor pig-farming life. Until your Uncle Harrison saved your Aunt Sadie from a band of outlaws.”
“Yes, there’s no shortage of heroism in my family’s past. It didn’t hurt that she was the daughter of the biggest cattle baron in west Texas.”
“And the rest is history,” Ferris added with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “So, when are you going to tell her?”
Sam stared at the papers in his lap as Ferris’s words sunk in. “After we’re married.”
“Why after?”