Josie leaned forward. “What is it?”
Mr. Trestle had been Papa’s most trusted advisor over the years. If he had a suggestion, she would listen.
“I came across something that might work.” He opened his desk drawer and removed a newspaper clipping, but then stopped, his blue eyes very serious. “If I thought there was any other way …”
Josie took the paper and scanned it with desperation—but her desperation soon turned to despair. This was his only idea? “It’s an advertisement for brides?”
“It says there are a hundred eligible men for every single lady,” Mr. Trestle said quickly. “The town is called Little Falls, and it’s on the Mississippi six hundred miles north of here, in the center of Minnesota Territory. It’s primarily a logging community, but with the water power at the dam, they expect industries to crowd their riverbanks. It’s overflowing with prospects.”
Josie held up the clipping, as if it were a poisonous snake. “What do you expect me to do with this information?”
“You could take a steamboat up the Mississippi to St. Paul and then go by stagecoach to Little Falls to make it known you are looking for a husband.” Mr. Trestle pulled out a steamboat schedule, as if he had anticipated this moment. “If you leave tomorrow, that would give you a week to travel to Little Falls, a few days to find a husband, and then a week to travel back. As long as you present a marriage license to the judge before your brother’s birthday, your share of the fortune will be secure.”
Josie stared at him as if he had lost all common sense. “You’re suggesting I travel to an uncivilized town, interview a handful of strangers, and then join my life to one of them—all within three weeks’ time?”
Mr. Trestle nodded gravely. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Josie looked at the advertisement again.
Wanted: good-looking women for the town of Little Falls, Minnesota Territory. We guarantee a hundred eligible bachelors for every single lady. If interested, please inquire with Philip Sommers at the company store.
“Don’t they want their brides to stay in Little Falls? Who would agree to marry me and return to St. Louis?”
Mr. Trestle didn’t blink. “A man who is interested in a shipping empire.”
A chill ran up her spine. Why would she want to marry a person who was only interested in her fortune? It was a terrible reason to marry.
But what other choice did she have?
“You’ll need to bring a companion,” Mr. Trestle said, as if the plan was already in place. “Your lady’s maid, or a relative.”
“I have no relative.”
“Then your lady’s maid will do. I suggest you book passage immediately, as the steamboats are always full.”
Josie imagined the look of triumph on her stepmother’s face the day she could turn Josie out. Josie would have nowhere to go. And worse, she would have to watch Stephen destroy Papa’s legacy.
Mr. Trestle watched her closely. “This is the only way, Josie.”
The newspaper clipping dangled in her hand. She could hand it back to Mr. Trestle and face a future of poverty and hardship—or she could put it in her reticule, book passage to Minnesota Territory, and take her chances.
Either way, there was little hope.
Josie did the only thing a rational old maid would do. She folded the clipping, slipped it in her bag, and snapped it shut with determination.
Maybe now, for the first time in her life, she would gain control over her own destiny.
Chapter 2
Minnesota Territory
Eight Days Later
Josie took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy front door of the Little Falls Company Store. A bell jingled overhead as she stepped into the bustling interior. At least two dozen men stood about the dusty store, some visiting around a game of checkers, while others shopped the disorganized shelves.
Josie’s maid, Ruth, followed close behind, her confident blue eyes assessing their surroundings. Ruth had proven to be a valuable traveling companion. Though she was tiny, she was also spirited and unafraid. Her blond hair and fair coloring made her look sweet, but under her soft demeanor, she was ready for anything.
The men stopped their activities and stared at the new arrivals. The only noise in the room came from the pesky flies circling the salt pork barrels.
A well-dressed man stood behind the long counter, the pencil in his hand hovering over a thick ledger. His handsome face boasted a mustache and surprised blue eyes. Here, at least, was a man who looked educated and clean.
“May I help you, ladies?”
Josie and Ruth maneuvered around a pile of rusted shovels and the two barrels of salt pork to reach the counter.
“I’m looking for Mr. Philip Sommers,” Josie said.
The man grinned as he set down the pencil. “I’m Philip Sommers.”
One of the men in the back of the store shouted, “No, I’m Philip Sommers!”
Then another shouted, “I’m Sommers!”
Soon, every man was claiming to be Mr. Sommers, and their laughter rang throughout the store. Josie’s cheeks filled with heat.
Little Falls was as primitive as she had expected. Only two years old, the town had been built along the Mississippi River and consisted of fresh-cut lumber buildings, rutted streets, and grandiose dreams.
From the moment the stagecoach had stopped in front of the Northern Hotel, Josie had been in awe of the chaos of men. She had been convinced her prospects were good … until she inspected the rough men present.
“Please, excuse them, miss.” Mr. Sommers lifted his hand to quiet the men. “If you can’t act decent, boys, there’s the door.”
Thankfully, the room quieted, but everyone still stared.
“What can I do for you?” Mr. Sommers asked.
Josie swallowed hard, wishing she didn’t have an audience for this important meeting—and hoping she was talking to the real Mr. Sommers.
Though Ruth stood by quietly, her presence bolstered Josie. With trembling fingers, Josie opened her reticule and pulled out the slip of newspaper Mr. Trestle had given her. She handed it to Mr. Sommers. “I’ve come about this advertisement.”
“What is it, Sommers?” called one of the men.
Mr. Sommers blinked several times as he stared at Josie. “Y–you’ve come to answer the ad?”
“Yes—” She cleared the nervous tickle from her throat. “I will be holding private interviews at the Northern Hotel this evening. Anyone interested may come at seven o’clock.”
Mr. Sommers shook his head. “I never thought someone would actually answer our ad.”
“Is she a prospective bride?” shouted a man with red hair.
Mr. Sommers grinned and looked her up and down. “She is!”
Pandemonium broke loose as the men rushed to the counter, climbing over tools and food supplies to get close to her. Josie squealed and bumped against the counter, while Ruth brandished Josie’s parasol.
The men crowded around them, overwhelming Josie with the stench of dirty bodies and stale alcohol. Their questions and compliments rang in her ears as they reached out with grubby hands to touch her.
She put her gloved hand over her nose and tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.
Josie barely heard the jingle over the front door. She glanced up as a new gentleman walked into the building. He towered over the other men, his brown eyes quickly assessing the situation. His clothes looked worn and dirty, and his rugged face needed a shave—but there was something different about him. Instead of hunger, his eyes were filled with curiosity—and then alarm.
He pushed his way through the crowd, his sheer size silencing the men.
“What’s going on here?” His deep voice held a hint of a French accent and commanded attention.
The men backed away, and some had the decency to look contrite.
He stared at the crowd for a moment and then turned his intense gaze on Josie and Ruth, his demeanor softening. “Are you ladies
all right?”
Josie lifted her unsteady hands to readjust her hat. “Yes, thank you. We were just about to leave.”
He pushed two men out of their path and nodded for them to proceed.
Josie and Ruth walked past the men and around the shovels and salt pork.
The redheaded man jumped ahead of them and opened the door.
Josie nodded a thank-you as she and Ruth stepped out into the fresh air and sunshine.
“It’s not too late to back out of this, Miss Josie.” Ruth opened Josie’s parasol and handed it to her, their boots clipping a solid beat on the wood boardwalk. “We can stay in our hotel room until the stagecoach leaves town.”
A group of men across the street stopped pounding their hammers to watch Josie and Ruth pass.
“I can’t go back until I have a husband.” Josie secured her green parasol against the summer sun—and the men’s stares. “We’ve come too far to turn around now.”
“But those men—” Ruth shuddered and wrinkled her nose. “None of them would do.”
“I’m not obligated to marry just anyone—I’ll interview whoever comes to the hotel, and I’ll pick the best candidate.”
“What if there aren’t any good ones to choose from?”
Josie stopped and put her hand on Ruth’s arm. “There’s no time to go anywhere else. I have to take my chances here.”
“Mademoiselles.”
Josie and Ruth turned at the sound of a man’s voice. The tall gentleman from the company store strode toward them, his long legs covering the distance quickly.
“I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” he said.
Josie nodded. “Yes, we are, thank you.”
He looked at their surroundings, at the men ogling them from the construction site, and his concerned gaze rested on Josie’s face. “May I escort you home?”
Josie found herself smiling for the first time in over a week. His offer was very gallant, but she and Ruth had done fine by themselves—besides, they were a long way from home. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Please, I would feel much better if I could.”
Josie glanced at Ruth, who looked quite taken with their hero. “If you insist … We’re staying at the Northern Hotel.”
“That’s where I’m staying.” With a dashing smile, he offered one arm to Josie and the other to Ruth.
They walked to the end of the street and turned left onto Broadway. Josie felt conspicuous with her expensive parasol and matching green gown—but even if she wore a plain brown dress, she would stand out like a cultivated rose in a weed lot.
The white clapboard hotel, standing proudly on the corner of Main Street and Broadway, was the one building in town with a bit of class. It came within sight, and Josie’s shoulders relaxed. Inside the walls of her hotel room she would be safe from the stares and lewd comments—at least until seven o’clock.
The tall gentleman escorted them inside the hotel and then bowed. “Au revoir.”
It wasn’t until he was up the stairs and out of sight that Josie realized she hadn’t asked his name.
Chapter 3
Do you think this dress is too ostentatious for tonight?” Josie stood in front of the small mirror in her hotel room. She turned and looked at her anxious reflection from a different angle. “I want to make a good impression, but I don’t want to draw too much attention.”
Ruth’s laugh was muffled as she knelt beside Josie’s trunk, her blond head buried beneath the lid. “I think the time to worry about drawing too much attention has come and gone—aha! Here they are.” Ruth stood with a triumphant smile on her face and a pair of white gloves in her hand. In her quest to find the gloves, she had strewn dresses, petticoats, and hats about the room, until Josie could barely discern where the bed, rocking chair, and dresser stood.
Josie pinched her cheeks for color and then inspected her dark hair in the mirror. Ruth had split it down the middle and combed it over her ears in puffs then gathered it in the back in ringlets. Every glossy strand was in place. She touched the pearl comb just above the ringlets, her palms sweaty. “What will I do if no one shows up?”
“I don’t think that will be your problem.” Ruth helped Josie put on her gloves and clucked her tongue. “I wish you had eaten something earlier. You’ll need your strength.”
How could she eat when her entire future depended on this one pursuit? She had less than two days to find a husband. The stagecoach only left Little Falls once a week—if she wasn’t on it in two days, she would miss the steamboat back to St. Louis and wouldn’t arrive in time to see the judge.
She needed to find a husband to gain control of her life. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.
Ruth stood back and admired Josie. “I think you’re ready.”
Was she? Josie gripped the doorknob and took a steadying breath. Every inch of her body shook, and her corset strings pinched. What if she fainted?
Ruth gently pushed aside Josie’s hand and opened the door. “You’ll do fine. God isn’t surprised by this turn of events. If He brought you here, He’ll be faithful to complete the work He began. Just trust Him to bring the right man to the ballroom tonight. You might be surprised with His plans.”
Josie offered Ruth a tremulous smile. She wasn’t contemplating a happy ending—but could that be part of God’s plan? It didn’t seem likely, though a bit of hope tried to take root in her heart.
They stepped out into the long, narrow hallway, their footsteps echoing across the pine board floors. Fading daylight filtered into the corridor from a single window at the end of the hall.
Josie reached out and squeezed Ruth’s thin hand. “Remind me to give you a big Christmas bonus.”
Ruth squeezed back, her voice teasing: “I will.”
They descended the open staircase and entered the hotel lobby. White wainscoting circled the large lobby and ran down the long hallway to the back of the hotel. A matching counter filled one corner of the room, while potted ferns sat in the opposite corner near a floral sofa.
The hotel proprietor, Mr. Churchill, stood behind the counter. His face lit with a grin when he saw them. “Good evening, ladies. I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”
It had not been pleasant waiting for this inevitable event, but Josie smiled. “Thank you. Are the parlors ready?” She had asked Mr. Churchill to reserve two parlors. One she would use to interview the prospective grooms, while the other would be for the men waiting to meet with her.
Mr. Churchill lifted his chin, as if to nod, and then he stopped. “Actually, there has been a change of plans.”
A change of plans? “But I must have two rooms this evening.”
“Oh, you will.” Mr. Churchill squeezed out from behind the counter, his large belly making the task difficult. “The men are waiting in the ballroom.”
“The ballroom?”
The front door opened and a group of six men entered, their boisterous conversation filling the lobby. “We’re here for the little lady,” one of them said to Mr. Churchill. He stopped when he saw Josie and Ruth, color filling his cheeks.
“Make your way to the ballroom, gents.” Mr. Churchill rocked on his heels and grinned. “You’ll find refreshments on the table.”
Josie watched with wide eyes as the men sauntered into the ballroom, tossing glances her way. In the few seconds the door stood open, she glimpsed inside—and swallowed the horror.
Josie’s hand went to her throat. “How many men are in there?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mr. Churchill rubbed his balding head. “I’d say there are at least a hundred, and they’re still coming in.”
The front door opened again, and another group of men entered. Mr. Churchill pointed them in the direction of the ballroom, and they slipped inside.
“A—a hundred?” Josie became light-headed. “How will I interview a hundred men?”
Mr. Churchill lifted his meaty palms and shrugged. “I’ll keep the refreshments you requested coming,
so don’t you worry about that.”
How much would it cost to feed over a hundred hungry men all evening?
Josie opened her mouth to protest, but the clock behind the counter chimed seven times.
“I’m right here beside you, Miss Josie.” Ruth patted her arm. “You’ll be fine.”
Josie walked toward the ballroom. Sweat broke out on her brow and her dress felt heavy against her weak knees.
She opened the doors slowly.
Rowdy noise filled the ballroom and greeted Josie as she faced the men, all of them talking and laughing at once. Tall mirrors lined one wall of the room, reflecting the yellow walls and large chandeliers overhead. Light from the bright wall sconces made the room feel overly hot and stuffy. Josie licked her dry lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of water.
Her eyes quickly scanned the room, assessing her prospects. There were short men and tall men. Heavy men and thin men. Some were dressed in gentlemen’s clothing, with ties and top hats, while others were dressed in grubby clothes that looked as if they hadn’t seen soap in months. There were young men, with barely a whisker on their chin, and old men with beards down to their chest.
And all at once, every one of them turned their attention to Josie and Ruth.
Silence invaded the room—but then someone sent up a caterwaul, and the entire room burst out in cheers and foot stomping.
“Make way for the pretty ladies!” shouted the man with bright red hair who had been at the company store earlier. He pushed the crowd back, and the men made a clear path for Josie and Ruth.
This was what Moses must have felt watching the Red Sea part before him.
Josie forced her legs to move, and the entire room quieted again as she and Ruth walked to the front. They climbed the stairs until they stood on the stage, and then faced the room.
Over one hundred men stared back.
Now what? Where would she start? How did one go about such things?
“What’re your names?” one of the men asked from the back of the room.
A chorus of voices repeated the question.
Josie’s voice came out weak. “My name is Miss Josette LeBlanc, and this is my maid, Miss Ruth Hubbard.”
The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity Page 33