Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection
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Abigail’s Proposal ©2017 by Cynthia Hickey
The Kidnapped Groom ©2017 by Susan Page Davis
A Clean Slate ©2017 by Susanne Dietze
Sunshine of My Heart ©2017 by Darlene Franklin
Come What May ©2017 by Patty Smith Hall
Dime Novel Suitor ©2017 by Carrie Fancett Pagels
Louder than Words ©2017 by Gina Welborn
Print ISBN 978-1-68322-132-6
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-68322-134-0
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-68322-133-3
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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.
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Table of Contents
Abigail’s Proposal
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
The Kidnapped Groom
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
A Clean Slate
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Sunshine of My Heart
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Come What May
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
Dime Novel Suitor
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Louder than Words
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Abigail’s Proposal
by Cynthia Hickey
Prologue
Kansas, 1865
Abigail Melton entered the kitchen to the sight of her mother slumped over the table, a telegram clutched in one hand. Her shoulders shook from her sobs.
“Ma?” She knelt beside her.
“Oh Abby.” She handed over the telegram. “They aren’t coming back.”
Abby’s heart dropped as she scanned the words. Pa and Dan were dead. Killed somewhere in Georgia. Tears blurred the ink on the paper. Whatever would they do? Every day she heard of another man from Turtle Springs who would not be returning home. She put her arms around her mother and joined her in crying.
“How will we tell Lucy?” Ma wailed. “She doted on her pa.”
“I’ll think of something.” She always thought of something.
“You’ll have to continue as mayor, dear. At least until the next election. The town can’t survive without a Melton running the place.”
But Abby was woefully unqualified. So many women already ran ranches, the mercantile, the livery … the list went on and on. How could they possibly do it all without their menfolk?
She dried her tears on the sleeve of her blouse, planted a kiss on Ma’s head, and headed for the school. Lucy couldn’t find out from someone else. She needed to hear it from it Abby or Ma.
Abby waited outside the school until the doors opened and the students barged into the sunshine. Lucy’s blond head appeared last, her arms laden with books as she chatted with a friend. Tears stung Abby’s eyes again as she realized the smile would soon fade from her sister’s face.
“What are you doing here? I was going to walk partway with Mary.” Lucy frowned.
“I need to speak with you. Alone, please. You’ll have to see Mary another time.” Abby blinked rapidly.
“You’ve been crying. It’s Pa, isn’t it?” The books fell from Lucy’s arms, landing in the dust at her feet with a dull thud. “Dan?”
“Oh sweetheart. They’re both gone.” Abby reached for her sister as Lucy crumpled to the ground.
Lucy grabbed Abby’s shoulders. “Fix this, Abby. You can, I know you can.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Chapter 1
One year later,
Turtle Springs, Kansas, 1866
WANTED: MEN TO AUDITION AS HUSBANDS. TURTLE SPRINGS, KANSAS.
AUDITIONS HELD MAY 25. ONLY GODLY,
UPSTANDING MEN NEED APPLY. CHECK IN AT MAYOR’S OFFICE.
Abby stared at the advertisement in her hand. She planned on posting it to as many newspapers across the country as she had money to do so. But first, she needed to let the women of Turtle Springs know her plan. This was the first step to keeping her promise to her sister last year. The only thing Abby could think of to fix things.
While speaking was a duty of the town’s mayor, a role Abby had stepped into when her father failed to return from the War Between the States, it wasn’t something she enjoyed. She stared from the church’s podium across the sea of mostly hopeful women. A few, such as Maggie Piner, showed mixed feelings. Most likely, some thought
Abby a fool for concocting such a plan. Still, caring for her mother and younger sister, in addition to playing mayor, was too much work for her to do on her own. She needed a husband. Plain and simple.
“Thank you for coming, ladies. The fact that you are here means you share, at least in some small regard, an interest in obtaining a husband.” She read the advertisement. A few hmmms sounded in response. “To make things move more smoothly during your fifteen-minute audition sessions, please have a list of questions available as to what you are looking for in a mate. Are there any questions for me?”
Ma raised her hand, a grin spreading across her face. “Make sure you put in that advertisement that I need a mature man. I’m not too old to start over.”
Abby closed her eyes and counted to ten. Ma had been a thorn in her side since the husband-finding plan developed in Abby’s mind. “I’m sure we’ll have men of all ages and skills.”
Another lady raised her hand, concern shadowing her pretty features. “What if we don’t take a liking to any of them? I’m quite picky in who I want by my side.”
“If you don’t like any of them, pray to God to send you someone you do like.” Abby gripped the sides of the podium. “I’m doing my best, ladies. Several of you were in agreement when I first proposed this plan. It’s too late to back out now.”
Jane Ransome, the main benefactor for the ad, stood. “What if more than one of us want the same man?”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“Then we’ll have a drawing or pick a straw. Please don’t fret. It will all work out.”
“What about a sheriff?” Caroline Kane shouted. “With all these strangers coming to town, crime is going to increase.”
“I placed an advertisement for a sheriff two weeks ago.” Did no one pay attention in this town? “We’ve discussed this.”
Jane stood again. “Shouldn’t we have the sheriff hired before all these strangers come to town?”
Abby exhaled heavily. What she’d give for one day of Jane not questioning everything. “It’s only a matter of time. Have faith, ladies. Meeting adjourned.” Ignoring the rest of the raised hands, she strolled down the center aisle of the church, shoulders squared, face forward. Oh, Papa, this job isn’t for me.
Rather than wait for Ma, she headed straight home, a white two-story building at the end of Main Street. Once there, she thanked her neighbor for watching Lucy, who at the age of thirteen thought herself much too old to have a sitter. The neighbor, a woman too old to care about training another husband, grinned and waved good-bye. Abby escorted Lucy to bed.
“When are the men coming?” Lucy pulled down the covers. “I hope there are lots. I’m thirteen now and almost ready for a husband of my own.”
Gracious. “You’re not even close.” Abby shrugged out of her gown then hung it in the wardrobe.
“If Ma gets married, and you get married, where does that leave me?”
“With me or Ma. Hush and go to sleep.” Abby climbed under the muslin sheet.
“I don’t want to live with you. You’re too bossy.” Lucy flopped onto her back. “I wish Dan were here.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Our brother would make sure you were nice to me.”
“I am nice to you. I provide a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your mouth.” She could be more patient, she supposed, but after a day of work, exhaustion clouded her mind and coated her limbs. “I’ll let you help me pick my husband, how’s that?”
“That’ll be just fine.” Lucy wiped away her tears on the sleeve of her nightgown. “I’ll pick a good one, Abby. I promise.”
Abby doubted there was a man alive willing to put up with her stubbornness and outspoken ways. Still, she might find some fool willing to look past all that. She was pretty enough, with wheat-colored hair and hazel eyes, or so folks had told her. Sometimes, Pa had said they were as green as the leaves of a tree. She sighed. Surely, God would see fit to lessen her burden.
The front door slammed. Then the sound of Ma’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She stopped in the door of Abby’s room. “Why didn’t you wait? All the interesting conversation went on after you left. Oh the requirements these women are listing.” Ma perched on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think there’s a man out there that can meet them, outside of the Good Lord Himself.”
Lucy sat up. “What did you list?”
“As long as he’s breathing and standing upright, he’s good enough for me. I reckon I can train any man to be a good husband. It worked with your father.” She tapped Lucy on the nose. “Go to sleep now.”
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Abby said, staring at the ceiling. “I’m working very hard for this town and couldn’t take the negativity for one more minute. Marry a man good enough to be voted into replacing me as mayor, please. That’s all I ask.”
“Phooey. You’re a fine mayor.” Ma patted her leg. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She lowered the wick on the oil lamp and left the room.
Abby continued to stare through the dark at the ceiling long after Lucy’s slow, even breaths signaled she was asleep. An advertisement for a husband audition. It was quite possibly the craziest thing she’d ever done, or would do.
Lord, help them all.
Josiah Ingram climbed off his horse and looped the reins around the hitching post in front of the boardinghouse. He only planned on staying one night as he drifted across the country in his search for—well, he didn’t know what he was searching for—only that he was a lost man since the war.
The town of Turtle Springs was quiet at 9:00 a.m. Main Street stretched from the church on one end to a two-story house on the other. In between was every type of establishment a man could want. Another road cut across the center, forming a perfect plus. He bet it had once been a bustling little place, where families greeted each other in passing with smiles on their faces. Now, it was as sad as most of the other towns he’d passed through.
He climbed the boardinghouse steps. Only then did he notice a small sign in the window that said WOMEN ONLY. He sighed and glanced once more up and down the street. Surely there was somewhere else to board.
A blond woman, no bigger than a minute, in a blue calico dress, unlocked the door to the mayor’s office. Josiah headed her way with long strides. If anyone knew of a place where a man could hang his hat in town, it would be the mayor.
A small sign hung in the window—HUSBAND AUDITIONS HERE. He chuckled. What kind of town had he stopped in?
He pushed open the door and stepped into a small building with two desks, a filing cabinet, a gun rack, and pegs to hang hats and coats. The woman who had entered took a seat behind a desk displaying a plaque that stated MAYOR.
Josiah approached her. “Howdy.”
She glanced up, hazel eyes a little too large for her face. “Howdy.” Her gaze raked him from the toes of his scuffed boots to the Stetson on his head, settling on the six-shooter at his hip. “Have you ever been arrested?”
Strange question. “No, ma’am.”
“Then, you’re hired.”
“For what, ma’am?” He removed his hat and grinned. Surely, she didn’t think he was there to audition.
“Sheriff.” She tilted her pretty little head. “I’m Mayor Melton. We’re glad to have you.” She handed him a sheet of paper and a gold star to pin on his shirt. “Fill this out. You’re on a three-month probation period. At the end of that time, the town will decide whether to keep you on. The sheriff’s office is across the street. There’s a room in back for you to live. But it’s small. If you need more space, you could rent a room over the restaurant.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to know which side of the war you fought on.”
He opened his mouth to protest then thought better of it. “I fought for a man’s right to choose the style of life he wanted. I fought for the Confederacy, although my family never owned slaves. I fought for a world where men could be whatever they wanted to be. I cheered when President Lincoln freed the slaves. Might not make se
nse to some, but it did to me.”
“I understand, sir.”
When those amazing eyes settled on him again, he sighed and headed to the empty desk to fill out the application. He pulled a sharpened pencil from a tin can and filled in his name. Why not be sheriff? It wasn’t like many job opportunities had come his way. He’d spent most of the year since the war driving cattle, but when that job ended, he’d done nothing more than drift from one odd job to another. It might be nice to settle down for a bit.
He glanced up. “You’re the mayor?”
“Yes.” Her look challenged him to say something derogatory.
He shrugged. “Guess someone has to be.”
Surprise registered on her face.
“What’s up with the husband auditions?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.
“Most of the men of this town didn’t return after the war. The women are struggling. It’s an answer to a need, nothing more.”
“Are you looking?”
Her eyes flashed. “Perhaps. Are you applying for the job?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t aim on ever getting hitched.” He let the chair return to all four legs with a thud and handed her the filled-out application. “Thanks for the job.”
“Once you’re settled, meet me back here. We have some things to go over.” She handed him a key. “Welcome to Turtle Springs.”
He grinned, liking her spunk. Some might call her bossy and abrasive. Not him. He didn’t much care for the silly women who fluttered their eyelashes and simpered. He liked a woman who could hold her own with a man. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Once outside, he led his horse to the livery, tossed a young man a coin, then slung his saddlebags over his shoulder. For good or bad, Turtle Springs was his new home. At least for three months.
He headed across a street now teeming with women, all of whom cast him appraising glances. Forget it, ladies, I’m not on the menu.
He unlocked the door and ducked into the safety of the sheriff’s office. A desk, a gun cabinet, and two barred cells made up his office. A small door off to the side led to a one-room living space with a cot and a bureau. He’d slept in worse places. He sat on the cot, which his feet were sure to hang off of once he stretched out, and ran his fingers through his hair. He desperately needed a bath and a shave.