Mail-Order Grooms: The Complete Boxed Set

by Amelia Smarts

  Susannah woke up early, which was unusual, since she generally slept in until well after dawn. She felt scared, so sleep wasn’t coming easy as of late.

  Am I about to make the biggest mistake of my life? she wondered for the thousandth time. That would really be something, considering the mountain of mistakes she’d already made in her twenty-two years.

  As she combed her blonde hair with an engraved oak hairbrush that had belonged to her long-deceased mother, she comforted herself with the knowledge that, really, sending away for a husband had been her only sane choice. In Virginia City, she had a reputation for being a loose woman, so the men who had tried to court her were bottom of the barrel, to put it nicely. She had no problem attracting drunks, sluggards, and bunko artists, but she needed a hardworking rancher for a husband, one who would follow her orders.

  A man who was both capable of ranching and docile enough to follow directions was not easy to find. If a man was capable, he tended to be stubborn, and if a man was docile, he tended to be unqualified. She could not abide either. A hardheaded husband would only make her life miserable, for he would not heed her wishes. A bad worker would lead her to financial ruin.

  Susannah opened the door to the hallway. She heard a loud pop and quickly stepped back before the heavy wood hit her toe. Another broken door, she grumbled to herself as her heart pounded from the near-injury to her person. She examined the side of it and noticed that one of the hinges had come free, meaning she would have to lift the door in order to close it. She decided to open it instead and leave it that way until it was fixed.

  A small thrill of hope and happiness shot through her. Soon she would be married, and a man’s strength was what she needed. She would instruct him to fix the bedroom door. She would also tell him to fix the broken padlocks on the barn, the floorboards with holes that were hazardous when stepped on, the window that had caked mud where glass should be, the leaking roof of the chicken coop, and the fence around the perimeter of the ranch.

  Her new husband would be busy, that was for certain, but it was a fair bargain. After all, he would acquire a fertile plot of ground, four hundred head of cattle, twenty chickens, twelve horses, a house, and a barn.

  And he would acquire her and her son too, of course. A tremor went through her as it did every time she thought about having to explain the existence of her son to her future husband.

  Susannah retrieved a pan from the doorless cupboard. She was a terrible cook, something her new husband wouldn’t discover until after he married her—thank goodness. She hadn’t had a mother growing up, and though the ranch foreman’s wife had taught her the basics, Susannah found cooking boring and she lacked creativity when it came to preparing meals.

  Her father had kept in his employ a cook and a maid who would ride out to their cabin a few times a week, but both had quit after he died because Susannah failed to pay them in a timely manner. Making sense of bills was extremely difficult for her even now, eleven months after his death, and she often wished her pa had taught her more about responsibility, rather than spoiling her as he had. She learned the hard way that getting what she wanted, immediately and without trying very hard, could lead to unimaginable heartache further on down the road. As a child, instant gratification had meant candy and toys, which were harmless enough. But as a young woman, that had transformed into a need for instant sex and love. She’d pursued both with reckless abandon, and she lived with the consequences of that every day.

  Susannah placed the pan on the oven and fired up the logs in the pit, then plopped a dollop of butter and six strips of bacon into the pan. Soon the cabin was filled with the heavenly scent of fried bacon. The loud sizzling drowned out some of the scary thoughts running through her head.

  She smiled at five-year-old Caleb as he stumbled in the direction of food, rubbing his eyes. “Hi, Mama,” he said sleepily. Sweat pasted the boy’s blonde hair to his forehead, and indentations from his pillow tracked his flushed cheeks.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.” She planted a kiss on the top of his head and examined his face in an attempt to read his mood. He seemed to be in an obedient mindset, so she said, “Go and fetch some milk from the keep, please. We’ll have that with the bacon.”

  Instead of minding her, he sank onto a stool at the kitchen table. “I’m hungry, Ma. I’ll fetch it after I eat some bacon.”

  Susannah frowned. “Caleb, I’m your mother. You must do what I say.” She knew the words were hollow. Like her father before her, she never enforced her orders. One thing she couldn’t bear was her son being unhappy, even for a moment, so she did everything in her power to indulge him, including letting him out of chores.

  “I will fetch it, Ma, don’t worry. But I’m gonna eat first,” Caleb declared.

  Susannah felt pressure building behind her eyes and burning in her nose. She tried to hold the tears back, but the frightening upcoming events of the day, combined with her out-of-control situation at home, caused her to lose her composure. The cabin was falling apart, the chickens weren’t laying eggs, and her vegetable garden produced more weeds than carrots. She was about to marry a stranger, a frightening prospect on its own, but especially worrisome because of Caleb. She couldn’t bear the thought of her future husband not liking her defiant boy, and Caleb didn’t make it easy for strangers to like him.

  As much as she loved her son, he was living proof of her sin and recklessness. A man whose greatest asset was his appearance had gotten her in the family way and then up and disappeared. He’d charmed her, and she’d seen none of his faults. Being irresponsible herself, she hadn’t recognized that he too was irresponsible. The fact that he didn’t ask her pa for permission to court her hadn’t warned her of his character, since she’d never asked permission for anything either.

  Her pregnancy had angered her father. He’d all but ignored Caleb, forcing Susannah to navigate the path of parenthood with little help. It was overwhelming for a woman like her, who in many ways was just a child herself. Her pregnancy also led her pa to change his will. The will still read that she would inherit the ranch, but a stipulation was inserted that she must be married within a year of his death or it would be forfeited to the bank. His death forced Susannah into a harsh reality. Not only did it necessitate her finding a husband, it also left her with a hole the size of Texas in her heart. Ben Smith had taken his last breath still disappointed in the daughter he’d doted on all her growing-up years.

  His intentions in modifying the will were not wholly punitive. He hadn’t wanted his daughter to be alone with a child and, because she was a fallen woman, he thought a man would only marry her if in doing so he would own a ranch. That reason for forcing her hand made Susannah feel even more ashamed.

  “I’m sorry, Ma!” Caleb said, jumping to his feet. He rushed to her and wrapped his chubby arms around her waist. “I’ll get the milk now. Don’t cry, Mama. Please?”

  Susannah’s heart filled with love. Her son was a handful, but he was also darn sweet. She would do whatever it took to give him every happiness in life, beginning with making sure she married in time to prevent them from losing everything.

  * * *

  Susannah hopped down from the buggy, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. She quickly shook it out of her pink calico skirt. She adjusted her hat, which sprouted a feather plume, and lifted her chin, trying to trick herself into feeling confident about what was about to take place.

  Caleb was back at home with the foreman’s daughter Betsy so that Susannah could engage in the activities of the day freely. Despite this short, rare bit of freedom, she felt trapped. Her fate was sealed with whatever waited for her on the other side of the hotel’s dining room door.

  She spotted her friend Mary standing outside the hotel wringing her hands. Mary was one of the few women in town who didn’t look down her nose at Susannah. When Susannah approached her, she took hold of her hands and gave them a squeeze. “I’ll pray for you.”

  Her friend’s words provided Su
sannah with the opposite of comfort. “How did it go, getting all the men settled into the dining room?”

  Mary shifted her gaze away and shrugged. “They were surprised to find out about each other, I suppose.”

  It seemed to Susannah there was something Mary wasn’t saying. She thought about trying to pry the information out of her, but decided against it. She was already beginning to lose her nerve and didn’t think it a good idea to stall for answers.

  After thanking her friend, Susannah gathered the fabric of her skirts in one hand and strode with purpose to the hotel’s dining room door, where she waited outside for a moment to gather her courage.

  She heard a loud male voice through the thin door. “Where the hell is this shickster? I want to see if she looks as racked in real life as she does in that photograph.”

  Susannah stiffened with alarm. No one could accuse her of being a prude, but hearing a man speak so flippantly about her body, which was perfectly covered in the photograph she had provided the men, gave her a sinking feeling in her gut. What if these men were exactly like the men in town who had treated her like a fallen woman who didn’t deserve respect?

  Perhaps the man who had spoken was the only one with ill manners, she told herself. She hadn’t heard the other men laugh or say anything in response. With that realization providing a sliver of hope, she squared her shoulders, opened the door, and walked inside.

  Silence met her upon her entrance. Four sets of eyes stared at her as she examined each of the men openly. They were all cowboys like they had communicated in their letters. They appeared typically rough and strong, but they had taken care to look somewhat presentable. Three were clean-shaven, and the fourth had a short beard that was neatly trimmed. All removed their hats from their heads upon her entrance.

  Her throat felt dry and she swallowed hard. When she spoke, it was with far less confidence than she would have preferred. She croaked, “I would like to know which of you spoke crudely of my appearance. I overheard what you said from outside the door.”

  Only one of the men dropped his gaze, so she knew the answer without him admitting it. “Was it you?” she asked. He looked about her age or even a little younger.

  He circled his Stetson in his hands. “Yes, that was me. I suppose you won’t be fixin’ to pick me then,” he said sullenly, sounding resigned to his imminent rejection.

  “You suppose right,” she responded primly. She moved aside so that he could exit the room.

  He left looking like a whipped dog, and Susannah felt a burst of courage. She was in control of this situation, she reminded herself, and there were still three men to choose from. She returned her attention to the men left standing.

  “As you can see, I responded to several of you saying I would accept your proposal and marry you in order that you might run the ranch left to me by my late father, but obviously, I will only choose one of you today and the rest of you will need to return to where you came from.”

  One of the three cowboys smiled and stepped forward. “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Ezra Manning. If you recall from my letter, I said I grew up on a ranch.”

  He was thin, and his smile held insecurity. She liked that he was not overly confident, for that meant he would likely do her bidding at the ranch, if she chose him.

  Susannah returned the smile and held out her hand. “I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Manning, and all the rest of you as well.”

  Ezra brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. She squashed the urge to wipe her hand on her frock. “We’re delighted to meet you too, Miss Smith.”

  “Speak for yourself,” a deep voice interjected. “I, for one, am less than delighted to meet a woman who thinks nothing of deceiving four men.”

  Susannah looked up with surprise at the man who had spoken. He had placed his Stetson back on his head and was glaring at her with his hands on his hips. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The tetchy man was very handsome. One of his brows quirked up over his dark eyes as he regarded her, giving him a sardonic appearance that hinted at how absurd he found his current predicament. His clothes were plain, but clean. A white, long-sleeved shirt hugged broad shoulders and strong arms under a suede vest. His trousers were typical for a cowboy, rough brown wool that was faded at his knees as a result of use.

  “This is some trick, young lady, making us all think we were comin’ here to get hitched and take possession of a ranch, when instead you wish us to compete to win your favor.” He shook his head and walked past her toward the door. “I don’t want any part of this blasted circus.”

  “Wait!” Susannah cried. “I’m sorry, truly, but I was afraid people might lie in their letters. I felt it necessary to take this precaution.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder and scoffed. “I can see why you were afraid. People who are dishonest expect others to behave the same.”

  She flinched. His remark stung, both because it made her feel guilty and because of the three men left in the room, he was the one she was most attracted to. A voice inside her head told her to let him go. A man like this would never be indulgent toward her, and he didn’t seem likely to do her bidding either. Still, she wanted to be the one to choose against him, not the other way around, so she desperately fought to keep him there for the time being.

  “I’m not dishonest normally, I promise,” she said. “I’m all alone in the world and feel I must make wise decisions. Please stay, sir, and do try to forgive me. At least hear what I have to say.”

  She watched his broad back expand as he drew a deep breath. She held her own breath until finally, he turned and walked to a chair, sat down, and took off his Stetson, which he placed on his bent knee. “Very well, Miss Smith. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

  Susannah had determined while preparing for this day that it was an easygoing demeanor and ranching experience that were most important to her in a man. She was not supposed to care about a man’s looks, as that had gotten her into a world of trouble with her last beau, and she most certainly was not to choose a man who was as strict as this one appeared to be about good behavior.

  While she was gaping at the man who was wrong for her, noticing how his thick mop of brown hair was combed neatly to match his trimmed beard, the other man in the room introduced himself. “I’m Clayton,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Distracted, Susannah shook it. A glance at him showed that he was very uncomfortable with the current situation, but he didn’t seem displeased with her like Mr. Wrong, which she now knew using the process of elimination to be Adam Harrington.

  “Nice to meet you, Clayton,” she said, hardly looking at him. An awkward silence followed. She felt her cheeks growing warm as she struggled to think of something to say. All of the questions she’d prepared now seemed unnecessary, since she no longer felt like she was giving an interview to select a candidate. Rather, she felt like she must prove her own worth.

  “Please sit down, gentlemen,” she said to Clayton and Ezra. Adam was already sitting. Either he was unaware that a man should stand in a lady’s presence when she was standing, or he didn’t consider her a lady. Whichever it was, it was disconcerting to Susannah, and she felt her stomach tighten into nervous knots as she took her seat across from the men.

  Adam hadn’t removed his hard gaze from her face. He wasn’t glowering at her, exactly—more like studying—but the intensity she felt radiating from him made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  She cleared her throat. “I haven’t yet thanked you for making the journey to meet me, so let me begin with that. Please know that you all have my heartfelt thanks.”

  Adam let out something that sounded like a snort of amusement. Clayton and Ezra nodded at her in what appeared to be a forgiving manner. Choose Clayton or Ezra, Susannah told herself firmly. These are men who will go easy on you, who will do your bidding.

  She drew a deep breath and continued. “What you know about me is true. I am in possession of chatt
el and land that require the attention of a rancher. I cannot simply hire someone to tend to the ranch. The reason he must be my husband is because it was stipulated by my father in his will that in order to keep the ranch, I must be married. Still, it is my ranch and you will be working for me.”

  She reached into her satchel and pulled out the deed, which included a map with the ranch’s dimensions, and handed it to Ezra, requesting that he pass it around when he finished. Each man studied the deed carefully, ending with Adam, who studied it the longest and then handed it back to her.

  “Please tell me a little about yourselves, gentlemen,” Susannah said in as cheerful a voice as she could muster, hoping to remove some of the focus from herself.

  Clayton and Ezra took turns sharing their experiences, while Adam remained quiet. Susannah barely heard either of them because she was squirming under Adam’s gaze. She became sharply aware of her own body as her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath. When she noticed suddenly that the room was silent, she addressed Adam. “What about you, Mr. Harrington? What is your experience?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was friendlier than she would have guessed it would be when he spoke. “I’ve been involved in ranching since I was a lad, Miss Smith. I inherited a plot of land from my father and worked it hard for nearly a decade. Unfortunately, sheepherders took over Amarillo. I got to scrapping with several of them over my father’s land, and since it wasn’t written anywhere that the land was mine, the sheepherders won, slowly crowding the cattle away from the most fertile parts. In general the cattlemen in Amarillo got swindled. I wasn’t the only one. We were outnumbered and without the protection of the law, which meant I needed to either become a sheepherder myself or start over in a new place. That’s the long and short of it.” He stretched out his legs, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his boots at the ankle.

  Though he hadn’t said anything remarkable, it was the most he had spoken, and Susannah found herself drawn to the sound of his voice. It was a calm, deep drawl, and she sensed that there wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body. He spoke with forthrightness and humility, and though he had every reason to be bitter about losing his father’s ranch on account of sheepherders, he didn’t sound like he carried a chip on his shoulder.