PRAISE FOR KIMBERLEY WOODHOUSE
“With her signature blend of romance, history, and suspense, Woodhouse ups the stakes in The Express Bride by creating characters who all have secrets to hide and reasons to distrust one another. The phrase, ‘appearances can be deceiving,’ describes this story perfectly. I loved every page!”
–Becca Whitham, award-winning co-author of The Promise Bride
“Kimberley Woodhouse gives us another edge-of-your-seat romantic intrigue in The Express Bride that made it impossible to stop reading until I reached the end. I thoroughly enjoyed the spiritual message of forgiveness. Kimberley always presents the impact of God’s Word in such a way that it becomes an intricate part of the character’s story. I highly recommend this book.”
–Tracie Peterson, bestselling author of the Golden Gate Secrets series
“Kimberley Woodhouse is a master at historical romance. It’s nearly impossible to find her equal.”
–Colleen Coble, USA Today bestselling author of The View from Rainshadow Bay and the Rock Harbor series
“[This] is my favorite kind of historical fiction, and Woodhouse executes it so well. I wish schools taught history in such a fun way.”
–Mary Connealy, bestselling author of The Accidental Guardian
“Kimberley Woodhouse is a must-read for me! Her grasp on historical fiction is delightful, and the stories she weaves leave me eagerly anticipating her next tale!”
–Jaime Jo Wright, Daphne du Maurier and Christy Award-Winning author of The House on Foster Hill
“Kimberley Woodhouse’s commitment to historical integrity, paired with her luminous storytelling, makes her an author to both trust and cherish. Any book with her name on it is a book I need to read.”
–Jocelyn Green, award-winning author of Between Two Shores
© 2019 by Kimberley Woodhouse
Print ISBN 978-1-64352-063-6
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-64352-065-0
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-64352-064-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Model Photograph: Ildiko Neer / Trevillion Images
Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in the United States of America.
CONTENTS
Prologue
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Daughters of the Mayflower
William Lytton married Mary Elizabeth Chapman (Plymouth, 1621)
their fourth child is Elizabeth Lytton—married Charles Montgomery (1642)
Their 3rd child born was Elizabeth Montgomery—married Sebastian White (1670)
Their 1st child born was Franklin White—married Amelia Henderson (1688)
Their 2nd child born was Thomas Austin—married Jane Warren (1710)
Their 1st child born was Emily Austin—married Gabriel Smith (1728)
Their 1st child born was Gabriel Smith—married Julia McPherson (1750)
Their 1st live child born was Susannah Smith—married Samson Kingsley (1773)
Their 1st child born was Paul Kingsley—married Esther Thompson (1790)
Their 1st child born was Mary Kingsley—married Timothy Lewis (1810)
Their 2nd child born was Anna Lewis—married Charles Vines (1830)
Their only child was born Jacqueline Vines
DEDICATION
This book is lovingly dedicated to Becky Germany.
For all you do and all the lives you touch: Thank you.
Never could I have guessed when we first talked
twenty years ago what God would do through His gift
of story. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.
You have been an inspiration and encouragement to me
(and your brilliance in a few simple marketing
sentences sparked my favorite part of this story).
Thank you for giving of yourself.
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for all you do for so many authors.
You are wonderful and beloved.
Keep on keepin’ on, my friend.
Your example is a beautiful thing.
I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.
Acts 20:24 NIV
Dear Reader,
I’m thrilled to be back in the Daughters of the Mayflower series and to bring you The Express Bride.
The Pony Express is a short and fascinating snippet of US history. Full of tall tales, wild characters, and folklore, it’s an exciting time to write about.
For my story, I’ve used the historical location of the Carson Sink station (in modern-day Nevada—the Utah Territory at the time), but most of the people, buildings, and town are fictional as I created them.
Carson Sink (or Sink at Carson) was a relay station back in 1860, but for this story, I’m using it as a home station so you can experience all the ins and outs of the Pony Express.
Not much is known about the original station other than that it was built in March 1860 and a few ruins remain at the site. (For more details, see the Note from the Author at the end of the book.)
What we now refer to as the Pony Express was the Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company. It operated from April 3, 1860 until it was no longer needed when the telegraph was completed on October 24, 1861. Essentially the availability of telegraphs ended the call for the costly but incredible mail service. The Express Service went from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California, in ten days. This is astoundingly fast when you think of the mileage—almost two thousand miles—all on horseback. A rider went about seventy-five miles a day and changed horses at every relay station—every fifteen to twenty miles (sometimes shorter depending on the terrain). Over the nineteen months of its existence, despite a war with the Paiute, dangerous trails, and horrific weather, the Express lost one only mochila (the special leather mail pouch that went over the very small Express saddle and held the mail) and successfully delivered 34,753 letters.
I visited several museums and a couple of actual Pony Express
stations that still have original existing structures (Gothenberg, Nebraska, and the Hollenberg Pony Express station at Hanover, Kansas) to research aspects of this story. I hope and pray that life at an Express station comes alive for you through the story.
One interesting thing to note as you are reading is that part of thisstory is focused on treasury notes. Back in 1860, some banks in large cities issued bank notes from their individual establishments, but there was no national currency. No paper money. People used gold and silver coin to pay for most of their transactions. Then there were treasury notes. The government issued these in times of financial stress (major times were the War of 1812, the Panic of 1837, the Panic of 1857, and the Civil War), and while they weren’t supposed to be used as “money,” a good amount of the time they were used precisely that way, especially in rural areas.
You’ll also notice that my prologue takes place in 1834. For the sake of this story, I took a little creative liberty. Please see the note at the end for more details about the first women to cross the Rockies.
Above all, I hope you enjoy the journey through time as we visit the era of the Pony Express and see once again how God is so gracious to us all.
–Kimberley
With shaking limbs, she climbed into the plush carriage awaiting her, the precious bundle in her arms worth far more than the money, trinkets, and trunks of clothing she left behind. Time stood still for a moment as the scent of the fresh spring rain filled her senses and transported her thoughts back to another spring day. If only things had turned out differently. How she loved the gardens in spring.
As her memories rushed over her, the gravity of what she was about to do jerked her back to the reality around her with a harsh jolt.
The unmistakable sound of pounding footsteps on the brick walkway above her made her cower into the corner of the carriage.
Oh, why couldn’t the driver hurry? She’d paid him handsomely to take her on the first leg of her journey, and she needed him to get the horses moving. Fast.
Her heart thundered in her chest, knowing all too well what every second meant. Every beat harder and more painful than the last. Footsteps crunched around the carriage and then soft words were spoken to the team. Didn’t he realize the urgency?
Oh please, God … please. Help us get away in time so—
“Nooo!” The deep, bellowing scream interrupted her prayer and made her shiver.
She didn’t dare look. But she couldn’t help herself. Opening one eye, she peeked out the window and saw the man she’d loved—and feared—the most, running down the front stairs outside of their massive house, a bottle in his right hand.
“Hurry. Oh, please hurry.” Her words were too soft to be heard, but the carriage dipped and gave a little sway, and she could only hope that meant the driver had mounted the box and was preparing to leave. Heart thundering in her chest, she squeezed her eyes against the tears.
Her husband’s anger was intense enough to propel even the most timid man into action. She prayed that it would inspire the driver to hurry. And that she would be able to keep herself composed.
“Don’t you dare leave me, Anna!” The words were cloaked in a tone that always made her think of the demons of hell itself.
She took a deep breath and looked to his wild eyes long enough to know intoxication had once again taken over his mind. He lifted his arm, and she ducked out of habit—even though he was still a good thirty paces away from the carriage.
Smash!
The shattering of glass against the carriage made her flinch, and she shivered again. Fear that he could yank her from her small sanctuary—her only way of escape—prickled and stung her flesh as if his bottle had smashed upon her very soul.
But the collision of glass against wood was all the urging the horses needed. They took off at a fast pace that threw her against the back carriage wall.
She twisted her neck to peek through the rear window. Not because she regretted leaving but to see if her demon was giving chase. For once, his inebriation was a blessing. He staggered after the carriage rather than running to the stable. His favorite horse—a massive black with a powerful stride—could overtake the carriage in minutes. But either he was too drunk to realize it, or God was answering her prayer for protection.
With a deep breath, she turned forward again. Faced with the very real fact that she would never return, her exhale stuttered and shook. Had she done the right thing? Even with all his flaws, love of liquor, and anger—she’d loved him fiercely. Still did. But her heart couldn’t make him change. It didn’t stop the bruises and gashes from appearing. She’d gladly lay down her life for him, but now she had to think about more than her own life….
Reaching into the blanket, she stroked the soft skin and tiny fingers. Determined to offer a safe and healthy environment for her little one, she tried to swallow down the fear that she was making a horrible mistake. Grasping the packet she’d stashed inside the blanket in her haste, she felt hot tears burning trails down her cheeks. Inside was the finest piece of jewelry she owned. In the beginning, her husband had showered her with jewelry and trinkets. But none of it could make up for the times he hurt her. Physically and emotionally, she was spent.
Anna glanced at the brooch of solid gold. Inlaid with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, it was exquisite. Very patriotic with its red, white, and blue, he’d given it to her on their first Fourth of July together. Its worth was a small fortune in and of itself.
She prayed it would provide for her journey and new life. And she prayed he would forgive her for taking it. She’d left everything else.
A twinge of guilt filled her chest. Perhaps she should be feeling some sort of remorse with the thought of selling the treasure. Some sentimental value should be given to the piece—shouldn’t it?
It had, after all, been a gift from a loving husband to his bride. Back when their love was new and exhilarating … when they could stare at one another for moments on end and dream of the days to come.
As she rubbed the piece with her glove-covered fingers, she turned it over.
Knowing what was there.
Dreading the reminder.
But it drew her, and she couldn’t help herself.
Etched on the back of the bejeweled piece was a single word—“Forever.”
A word meant to signify the commitment and love of their marriage. A word that had made her think her husband would love and cherish her. Just like he’d stated in his vows. But instead, the word was a knife to her heart.
As the carriage raced away from their estate, she clamped her teeth together and tried to rid her mind of the thoughts of guilt. She shouldn’t have looked. It didn’t matter anymore. Now that engraved word could only symbolize the distance of the chasm between them. She would neverreturn. Never subject herself or her child to his fists. Never live in fear of him again. She was free of him.
Forever.
October 1834
Staring out at the barren, sand-filled landscape ahead of her, Anna pulled the oxen to a halt. Her baby was hungry, and this was as good a place as any to stop. It wasn’t like she was in a huge hurry to get anywhere.
As she opened her bodice and snuggled her little one close, emotions flooded her being and fought for center stage in her mind.
Relief at her escape.
Fear of being found.
Elation that she’d made it this far.
Apprehension over whether she could continue on her own.
Guilt for leaving.
They all tumbled around, creating a messy jumble of feelings.
Every time she had a moment to herself this happened. Most of the time, she was trying to entertain her little one and focused on the tasks she needed to do. Just keeping the oxen going in the correct direction could be a challenge some days when her precious daughter tugged at her skirts from the box on the floor where she’d basically grown up the past few months.
Some days she was amazed at how far they’d come.
; The weeks and months had passed in lack of sleep and constant changes Anna made to her appearance. She’d brought three different wigs with her and sold all her beautiful, custom-made dresses—choosing instead the simple attire of a woman of humble means headed west. As she fed her little one, who grew by the day, her thoughts went back over all that had happened.
She’d been completely unprepared. Even though from the moment she discovered she was pregnant, she’d read every newspaper article she could find on making a new life out West. Attending lectures—withouther husband’s knowledge—and making lists and plans. But none of it prepared her for the reality.
But she had persevered. She lifted her chin at the thought. Every day she’d changed her looks, hoping she wouldn’t be recognized. And while the time had passed in slow moments accompanied by the constant urge to look over her shoulder, at least it had given her body time to heal. The bruising was gone, which meant people didn’t stare at her in pity any longer. Not that she’d seen many people lately. The journey was taking her far away from anything she’d ever known and into a vast and unfamiliar frontier.
Now officially in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find an even more remote location, she breathed deeply. Strange that a city girl like herself—one who’d always worn the latest fashion and never had to lift a finger to do anything—had been surviving all this time in a modest covered wagon traveling west. “And we’re doing just fine, aren’t we, sweetie?”
Her little one smiled and blew a bubble with her pink lips.
Yes, it had been worth it.
After she’d left her home, she had sold the brooch, then paid a man for the wagon, oxen, and supplies. She’d joined two families and traveled with them for a long portion of the trip. The women had taken her under their wings and helped her make poultices for her many wounds. The last bout of her husband’s anger had acted like a catapult and thrown her into leaving sooner than planned—she’d feared for their lives more than ever before. If she hadn’t left when she did, she was certain she would have been taken out in a pine box.
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