The Bride Lottery: A Sweet Historical Mail Order Bride Romance (Prosperity's Mail Order Brides Book 1)

by Kristin Holt

  She hadn’t been here.

  He wanted to laugh aloud, to shake the crushing pressure that drove him forward, to the door, his fist raised to knock.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he pounded on the door.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  She was home now. He knew it. Relying on the Evelyn he knew and loved—a woman who’d hear him out, who’d forgive his shortcomings and faults, and believe him when he begged her forgiveness—he stood taller and dared her father to turn him away.

  Breathing too hard, like the smithy’s bellows, he strained to hear movement inside.

  Light, female footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. He knew a moment’s relief—Evelyn!—until the door swung open to reveal a woman who could only be Evelyn’s mother. She had the same shade of hair, like a summer’s sunset, and bright blue-green eyes.

  She held his gaze for the longest of moments while Sam fought to stabilize his breathing.

  Intuitively, he realized this woman could be his greatest ally or his most formidable opponent.

  “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Sam—”

  “Mr. Kochler.” She interrupted smoothly, a chill detachment in her voice. She waited, her gaze assessing, but as the moments passed it became more evident she wouldn’t make this easy and had no intention of inviting him in.

  “I’ve come to call on your daughter, if I may.” He winced. He never should have asked permission. Women like this had far too much practice saying no. “I’m here to see your daughter. I’ll wait if need be.”

  “She will not receive callers this evening.”

  “As I said, I’ll wait ‘til she is.”

  Mrs. Brandt narrowed her eyes just enough to make Sam sweat. She perused him, much the way Mr. Brandt had the evening before. From hat to cuffs of his jeans to boots and finally met his eyes. “I doubt she’ll see you.”

  “Ma’am, she’ll leave this building eventually. And when she does, I’ll be right here. I’ve already waited three or four hours, I can wait much longer.”

  Heavier footfalls sounded on the plank floorboards as someone else approached the door. Dread settled in Sam’s gut, ‘cause here came her dad. He would not allow intimidation to show. They already had the higher ground.

  Mrs. Brandt opened the door a little wider, and stepped back as her husband’s impressive frame filled the doorway. The stoop was up a good foot from ground level, giving Evelyn’s tall father an even greater height advantage.

  “Mr. Brandt.” Sam knew better than to offer a handshake so he kept his hands loose at his sides. The stance had become a long-time habit out here. Men didn’t trust fellas whose hands could hide a weapon in their pockets.

  “Kochler.”

  Sam swallowed. These two stood like guards, protecting their daughter as if they needed to protect her from…from him! As if they loved her so much—

  They loved her.

  They loved her…and so did he, to distraction. A commonality to build on if only he could convince her parents he had her best interests at heart.

  “I’m glad you’re receiving, sir, as I’ve got something to say.” Sam raised his voice, hopeful Evelyn could hear him, “to both of you.” He glanced toward Mrs. Brandt. How could he make her soften toward him? Surely she had more influence with her husband than not.

  “We will leave this…town…on tomorrow’s afternoon stage, Mr. Kochler, and our daughter will travel with us.”

  Sam’s gut clenched. “If you’ll just let me talk to her, I need to explain—”

  But Mr. Brandt wouldn’t hear him out, cut Sam off like the second-class citizen he believed him to be. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish, Mr. Kochler, but I assure you, our daughter no longer has any interest in you. Good evening.”

  Sam saw the older man’s intention to shut the door without allowing a response. Sam could take a lot of disrespect from someone like Brandt, a man who deemed himself more important than everyone else, but beneath it all was just a man who loved his daughter and wanted to protect her.

  Sam wedged his boot against the door and shouldered it open. “Hold on a minute.”

  “You forget yourself.”

  “Maybe so, but I’ll never forget your daughter. I love her, Mr. Brandt, and that’s what I came here to tell her. I love her. I won’t give up so easily, you hear me?” His voice had risen above a polite conversational level, but he found he didn’t want to control it and certainly didn’t care if every last person on this mountain heard him declare his love for Evelyn.

  “Remove your boot,” Brandt ordered.

  “Not ‘til you hear me out.” Sam couldn’t match the older man’s height but had the advantages of youth and determination on his side. “This whole thing is a big misunderstanding. I had no idea Octavia Sheline was on her way here, in fact, she turned me down, cold, and I’d given up on her completely, long before I met your daughter.”

  He saw he had their attention—for the moment.

  “Listen,” he continued, every bit as loud, just in case Evelyn could hear. “I don’t want Octavia. And all this nonsense about us getting married is just Octavia and Mrs. Cairn causing trouble. The only woman I want to marry is your daughter, and she’s already accepted me.”

  That final statement hung in the wind-whipped air. Several long seconds passed, but neither of Evelyn’s parents showed so much as a twitch of reaction. Rain fell harder, splattering Sam’s canvas coat with large, cold drops.

  Finally, her father asked, “Are you quite finished?”

  “Not even close. Please call Evelyn down so I can beg her forgiveness.”

  Brandt held his tongue and his jaw tightened.

  Sam turned to Mrs. Brandt. “Please, ma’am. Call your daughter. I’ll follow her off this mountain. If I have to, I’ll follow her all the way to San Francisco. She’s everything to me and I meant every promise I ever made her—I love Evelyn and I want her to be my wife.”

  Emotion choked Sam’s voice and he flushed with embarrassment.

  A miracle happened…Mrs. Brandt’s icy stoicism thawed. Sam focused his attention on her—if she’d only understand, she could help Evelyn decide to give him just one chance.

  “The baby she’s carrying is mine, see?” Sam swallowed the tide of rising emotion. “I want us to be a family. I’ll work hard every day of my life to see she’s comfortable and never goes without the necessities and as many comforts as I can provide.”

  Even as he spoke it, he knew how true it was. He did deserve a chance to make a go of real marriage with Evelyn. She wasn’t like her parents, didn’t need thick carpets and high ceilings and all the fancy trappings of silver and china place settings and golden chandeliers to be happy. She just wanted to live and love on her own terms.

  She wanted to keep her baby.

  And until this afternoon, she’d wanted him.

  He could give her all that her heart desired, if only she’d have him.

  Mrs. Brandt had softened, true, but she’d given little indication whether his impassioned plea had persuaded her to help. She hadn’t so much as glanced at her husband.

  So he pressed forward, focusing on Mr. Brandt. He raised his voice to be heard above the wind and rain. “I’ll do better than that. I’ve built my business from the ground up, from just an idea, and I’ve made it prosper. I make a good living and while my rooms above the mercantile are simple, they’re just right for two of us and a baby. I’ll build a house, a fine house—”

  Brandt shook his head. He’d apparently heard enough. He telegraphed an intention to walk away and leave Sam on the doorstep.

  His heart seized—he hated begging. The day he’d worked his first job and tasted freedom, he’d been so relieved he’d never have to plead for a bite to eat or a dry place to sleep, ever again.

  For Evelyn, he’d beg.

  “Mr. Brandt, you’ll do a lot worse than a humble merchant like me. You know that, don’t you? You’ll never find any man as devoted to your daughter’s happiness a
nd comfort as I am. Money does not make the man, cannot buy you kindness or love or compassion.”

  He realized he’d fairly shouted his declaration and fought to lower his voice. “You’ll never find another man who loves her as completely.”

  To Sam’s utter embarrassment, his voice broke, a sob barely contained. “Please. You’ve gotta give me a chance here. She’s all that matters to me.” He swallowed the panic rising in his throat. “You can’t take away my wife and child.”

  From where she stood in the Quarters’ kitchen, Evelyn clearly heard Sam’s heart-felt words. Every last precious syllable.

  It suddenly made perfect sense…the dining room windows open though it had begun to blow and raindrops spattered the windowsills, Father talking louder than necessary and offering choices that couldn’t appeal much to either or her or to Sam. To top it off, Mother’s urging to remain quiet and out of sight while she answered the door.

  Her parents—reserved, conservative, serious, prejudiced—had played matchmaker.

  It worked.

  In Sam’s attempt to convince her parents he loved her, he’d charged right through her defenses.

  She wanted to shriek with utter delight, run through the dining room, and throw herself into his waiting arms, even though her parents would no doubt scold her for behaving like a child.

  She didn’t care.

  All that mattered, everything she wanted, waited for her just over the threshold. “Sam!”

  Her shoes clattered on the floor as she sped past the dining room table and into the entryway.

  “Evelyn?” Sam’s voice, filled with desperation.

  Her parents stepped aside, flanking the open doorway like sentinels.

  Her gaze zeroed in on Sam’s dear face. Struck anew at the miracle of finding this one man who loved her, faults and all, who accepted her past and present and wanted to blend her future with his own.

  She leapt into his arms. He caught her without hesitation, locked his strong arms about her…and stumbled back a step.

  His embrace tightened and his chest heaved with too-rapid breaths. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, and I won’t ever let you go.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  He let her slide down a few inches until the toes of her shoes touched the grass. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze in the fading daylight.

  The pleasure in his gaze dimmed, like a lamp wick turned way down. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn, sorrier than I can say.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. See, I learned something vital today.”

  “Oh?” Evelyn vaguely remembered her parents still stood in the doorway behind her, listening to every word. She didn’t care—her absorption with Sam so complete.

  “I’ll never let another day pass without telling you I love you—more than life, more than my business, more than anyone else I’ve ever known. You are my life.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you, too, Sam Kochler.”

  “I love our baby,” he whispered against her mouth. He grinned wide, pulled back enough to tip his face to the darkening sky.

  “I love Evelyn!” He yelled loud enough for everyone in the mountain valley to hear. “I love our baby—hear me?—our baby.”

  Evelyn smiled. She couldn’t help it. Happiness, acceptance, love for this man seemed to expand at such a rate, she simply couldn’t contain it.

  Sam spun her about, hollering with barely bridled joy. Her feet left the ground as he spun her around and around in the falling rain. “I’m gonna be a daddy!”

  She giggled. Dizziness and happiness made her head swim as he set her down.

  “Marry me.” His grin stretched as wide as her own.

  “I’ve already said yes.”

  “Say yes again. I love hearing you say yes.”

  “Yes. Yes!”

  Evelyn caught a glimpse of Mama slipping her hand into Father’s.

  “Time to come in out of the rain,” her father said, but not unkindly. “We can’t have you catching cold before the wedding.”

  Evelyn didn’t want to let Sam go. She hugged him tighter. She didn’t dare press her luck and refuse, but now that she’d found Sam again, she didn’t want to let him go.

  Evelyn kissed him, a quick buss on the lips. “Goodnight, Sam.”

  She held his hand even as she took a step toward the house. She glanced back, just to see his happiness for one more second.

  He released her, raising a hand in goodbye. “I’ll be here in the morning. Sleep well.”

  “Will you join us for breakfast?” she asked, hoping he’d agree.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  With regret, Evelyn joined her parents in the doorway.

  “Son?” Father said, surprising Evelyn, “come on in out of the rain. We have your dinner plate warming in the oven.”

  Evelyn had a very hard time reconciling her father’s invitation, even after his attempts to bring her and Sam together. “You do?”

  Sam took a step closer, halted, uncertainty clouded his face as if expecting the brunt of a mean joke.

  “Of course we do. No son of mine will go hungry. It’s a promise I made your mother long ago, a promise I intend to keep.”

  Father extended a hand to Sam in that age-old sign of man-to-man acceptance, friendship, and a deal struck.

  Without hesitation, Sam grasped Father’s hand and shook.

  On Tuesday afternoon, Sam met the stage before Billy had even set the brake. The wheels kicked up dust that settled on Sam’s best suit, but he couldn’t make himself care.

  A man had every reason to smile like a fool on his wedding day.

  Sam called a greeting to Billy, the driver. He opened the coach door for the aging minister.

  “Give an old man a hand, will you?” The chaplain, bent with age, seemed worse for wear from the tedious journey up the canyon.

  Sam steadied the preacher as he landed on the step Billy dropped into place, and then his boots touched down.

  “Good to see you again, Brother Quayle.” Sam smiled warmly at his old friend.

  “It’s good to be seen. At my age every day seems like it might be my last.”

  Sam chuckled. “I’m mighty pleased to have you officiate my wedding. Glad you’re alive to do it.”

  “Hey, now. I’m not dead yet.”

  Brother Quayle stopped in the middle of the wide track. “That your bride?” He gestured to Miss Baker who stood on the boardwalk with two other young ladies, all dressed up and waiting for the multiple ceremonies to begin.

  “Nope. That’s bride number two, Dora Baker. She’ll wed Jedediah Mees.”

  “Is this your gal?” He nodded toward the mercantile entrance.

  Sam glanced over his shoulder long enough to see Brother Quayle referred to Octavia, standing in the doorway of his business beside Mrs. Cairn. “Nope. They’re just passengers back to Leadville.”

  “Another bride quit on you folks?”

  “You could say that.”

  Though a few men had offered for Octavia, she’d turned them all down. It seemed she had no interest in remaining, which suited Sam fine. He could only imagine the disquiet and drama if Octavia stayed in Prosperity.

  Four guys carried the departing ladies’ trunks and cases, handing them up to the stage’s roof. Sam tossed them each a coin.

  Mrs. Cairn looked down her nose at Sam, not an easy thing to do given the round woman barely reached his breastbone. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do believe I am.”

  She sniffed with the kind of derision she’d been born and bred with. How had he ever craved acceptance into Atlanta’s upper society circles? All along, he’d had a good life, been surrounded by hard-working, industrious people whose opinion of him mattered a great deal more.

  He’d blame his idiocy on youth and leave it at that.

  Mrs. Cairn offered a gloved hand for Sam to steady as s
he climbed aboard. She breathed heavily, squeezing her bulk through the narrow doorway. The stage rocked and squeaked as the heavy woman settled.

  Octavia put him in mind of a wilted blossom, cut from the garden too long ago. Her narrow shoulders sagged and the light in her eyes had dimmed. He fought back the sense of responsibility that tried to surface. He’d done the right thing…the right thing by Evelyn, Octavia, and himself.

  He offered her a hand into the vehicle. “Safe travels, Octavia.”

  She finally met his gaze, the deep, dark pools of her eyes almost glassy and unfocused. This trip to Colorado hadn’t netted her desired results, but she’d be O.K. Her daddy and his money would buy her a husband who’d cater to her whims and think himself beyond lucky. Who knew, maybe Mr. Sheline would find a perfect match for his daughter. Without guile, he wanted Octavia to be happy.

  His own happiness was so full, he found he wanted the same for this princess he’d loved…yet even as he considered the idea and turned it over in his mind he realized that in comparison to the love and depth of connection he knew for Evelyn, he hadn’t ever really loved Octavia. Sure, he’d been infatuated, fancied himself in love, and over the moon when she’d offered him a preview of marital bliss. But it hadn’t been love.

  Octavia put her little gloved hand into his and stepped into the coach. She hadn’t responded to his wishes for a safe journey, certainly hadn’t wished him well in return, but the slight didn’t matter.

  Now, to locate his bride.

  As the stage pulled out, Sam dusted off his dark suit and headed toward the town green. Seemed most folks were headed that way, with the services set to start in half an hour. He knew Evelyn wouldn’t be there—she’d still be holed up in the Quarters with her mother and good friend Caroline flitting around her. Her parents had determined to take the stage back to Leadville tomorrow with the minister.

  But he found himself searching for her just the same.

  More fellows, some with their new wives, found seats before the grandstand. Old Thad tuned his fiddle and played a sweet melody that sounded far more like it belonged in a fancy parlor than in the wilds of the Colorado Rockies, but the tune seemed fitting for the occasion and glorious mountain backdrop.