She was promised to another...
When widow Fiona Goldberg and her two adorable sons arrive in Oak Grove, Kansas, proclaimed bachelor Brett Blackwell is instantly captivated. But when he learns she is promised to the mayor, he tries his best to keep his distance...
Out of desperation, Fiona had agreed to become a mail-order bride to the disagreeable, self-important mayor. But something about her neighbor Brett makes her feel safe. She knows she must fight her growing feelings for the forbidden blacksmith, even while longing for him to rescue her and take her as his bride himself!
“I hope you don’t mind if your boys call me Brett? I told them it’s all right, but if you insist, I’ll abide by your rules.”
In no place to deny him anything, Fiona said,
“I don’t mind.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree on that, Mrs. Goldberg.”
“Me, too, Mr. Blackwell.” It felt as if they were playing a game where neither of them said they could call each other by their given names, but both wanted to. She thought of him as Brett. Had since last night. Yet, that wouldn’t be right. She would soon marry someone else and—
“Oh.” She stumbled slightly.
“What is it? You step on a rock?”
“No.” Josiah had said he’d be back this afternoon. “I probably should have remained at the house.”
A sternness formed on his face. “The mayor is having lunch with the new preacher. He’ll be busy for some time yet.”
“Oh.”
“Come, now,” Brett said. “There’s no frowning allowed on picnics.”
He was once again smiling and his eyes looked bluer than the sky. Mesmerized for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond.
Author Note
Welcome to Oak Grove! It’s a small town on the prairies of western Kansas and full of people who believe it’s the best town west of the Mississippi. They are so proud of their little town, they create a Betterment Committee in order to bring a trainload of mail-order brides in to marry several of the local bachelors. As you can imagine, things aren’t quite as easy as they thought it would be, which has made writing these stories all the more fun.
I hope you enjoy Brett and Fiona, and the twists and turns the story takes before reaching their happy-ever-after.
Stay happy!
LAURI ROBINSON
Winning the
Mail-Order Bride
A lover of fairy tales and cowboy boots, Lauri Robinson can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men—and women—who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset...or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home, and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren.
Visit her at laurirobinson.blogspot.com, Facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or Twitter.com/LauriR.
Books by Lauri Robinson
Harlequin Historical
Daughters of the Roaring Twenties
The Runaway Daughter (Undone!)
The Bootlegger’s Daughter
The Rebel Daughter
The Forgotten Daughter
Stand-Alone Novels
Western Spring Weddings
“When a Cowboy Says I Do”
Her Cheyenne Warrior
Unwrapping the Rancher’s Secret
The Cowboy’s Orphan Bride
Oak Grove
Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove
“Surprise Bride for the Cowboy”
Winning the Mail-Order Bride
Harlequin Historical Undone! ebooks
Rescued by the Ranger
Snowbound with the Sheriff
Never Tempt a Lawman
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Excerpt from A Convenient Bride for the Soldier by Christine Merrill
Chapter One
The single fly that buzzed between the people sitting shoulder to shoulder in the pews in front of him annoyed folks. Not Brett Blackwell. When the fly finally landed on his shoulder, he let it be. The fly wasn’t any more irritating than the sweat rolling down his neck, and the bug probably wasn’t any happier than he was. Not usually prone to selfish thoughts, Brett wasn’t sure what to do with the melancholy that sat inside him. It had to do with the ceremony taking place in the front of the church.
The folks up there were getting married. He’d paid money to have a chance that one of the brides the Oak Grove Betterment Committee had brought to town would pick him, but that hadn’t happened, and there wasn’t a whole lot of hope inside him to say he might have another chance at getting married anytime soon. Only five brides had arrived instead of the twelve Mayor Melbourne had promised, and though the mayor claimed more would arrive soon, Brett was with the other dozen or so men who figured Josiah was just blowing hot air. The mayor liked to do that. Put Josiah Melbourne behind a podium and a person’s ears would wear out before Josiah’s voice would.
Brett figured the town should be glad that at least five gals had arrived on the train a month ago. There couldn’t be a whole lot of women willing to travel to the center of Kansas to marry a stranger. Although Oak Grove was a nice little town, and growing as folks hoped it would, it was a long ways from everywhere else. Dodge City was a solid hundred miles south. Yet good people lived here. He liked most of them, and despite his own melancholy, he was genuinely happy for the men who were marrying the brides the Betterment Committee had brought to town.
Those men were some of his best friends. Steve Putnam had been the first to welcome him to town a few years ago, and he’d spent plenty of hours fishing in the Smoky Hill River with Jackson Miller, one of the other men standing up there. That was what he should do today, go fishing. It had a way of settling a man’s thoughts.
However, his thoughts might never be settled again. Not until he found himself a wife like Steve and Jackson had.
As he was taller than most everyone else, his gaze easily surveyed the heads ahead of him, until it settled on Josiah Melbourne’s. The mayor was sitting front and center as usual. Abigail White, wearing a hat full of flowers, sat beside Josiah, and Teddy, Abigail’s brother and one of Brett’s best friends, sat beside her. Teddy had been hoping for a wife too, as had several other men in the church.
Just last night he and Teddy had talked about that, about how they doubted the full dozen of brides Josiah had promised would show up, and how there wasn’t a whole lot either of them could do about it.
The fly left his shoulder, and Brett watched as it circled a couple of people before it flew toward the window and ultimately buzzed out the opening. The fly’s freedom sent Brett’s thoughts in a different direction. That fly could have given up, or hit the glass and knocked itself out. But it hadn’t. It had found a way to change its situation, and that was what he needed to do.
Change the situation.
He’d done that before. Had left Wisconsin to change his life and settled here in Oak Grove after completing his time with the railroad. He wasn’t sorry he’d done either of those things. He wasn’t sorry he’d chosen to set up his blacksmith shop here in Oak Grove or that he’d opened up a feed store to go along with his blacksmithing. He wasn’t sorry for anything he’d done. That was how he chose to live his life. A sorry man wasn’t good for anyone, including himself.
Brett sat up a bit straighter, listening as the preacher blessed the unions of the couples getting hitched, and when the preacher offered a prayer for the newly wedded couples, Brett bowed his head and added his own. Then, as an afterthought, he included a quick one for himself. That if God had a mind to, sending a few more brides to town would be appreciated, especially if one took a liking to him.
The services ended shortly thereafter, and he stood in line to shake each man’s hand and give his congratulations to the brides. Then he stepped aside and waited for Teddy to exit the doorway.
It was time he found a wife of his own. On his own. Well, not completely, he needed a little bit of help.
While people continued to file out of the church, congratulating the happy couples, Brett mentally went over the message he’d send his mother. Word for word so it didn’t sound like he was desperate but that there was clearly an element of urgency He could send her a letter, but a telegram would be better. Short and to the point, a telegram would, in itself, tell his mother how speedily he’d like a response.
Teddy not only owned the local newspaper, he ran the telegraph office, and because of the festivities happening, which Teddy was sure to want to attend, Brett would offer a few extra coins to have the message sent today. He usually wouldn’t ask for a favor when the office was closed, but seeing the new brides and grooms looking so happy—which they had a right to be—increased the urgency inside him.
When Teddy finally walked down the steps, Brett waved to catch his attention and was extremely glad when Teddy’s sister, Abigail, remained behind. Abigail wasn’t married, and at one time or another, almost every man in town had considered courting her, including him. Everyone had quickly changed their mind. For him, it wasn’t because she was as thin as the pencil she always kept behind one ear or that the end of her pointed nose had a hook sharper than a hawk’s, it was her voice. Its high-pitched squeak was more irritating than a wheel needing grease and Lord but that woman was nosy. As the town’s one and only reporter, she felt she had a right to know everyone’s business and that it was her duty to write about it. Every picnic and stroll she embarked upon with a possible suitor ended up in the newspaper. His consideration of Abigail as a possible wife hadn’t gone that far for him. He had no desire to read her thoughts about his size or accent.
“Say, Brett,” Teddy said in greeting. “New preacher did a good job, don’t you think?”
“Ya, the brides and grooms sure look happy.”
“Have a right to be, don’t they?” Teddy said with a bit of his own melancholy showing.
“Sure do.” Glancing over to make sure Abigail was still busy talking to the preacher and the mayor, Brett nodded for Teddy to follow him a short distance away. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure, what is it?”
With another glance in Abigail’s direction, Brett said, “I need to send a telegram home. A private one.”
Teddy, who didn’t resemble his sister in any way other than the ink stains on his hands, glanced over his shoulder before saying, “Your privacy is safe with me, you know that.”
“I do,” Brett agreed. “And I appreciate it.” Shrugging, he added, “I don’t have a piece of paper handy.”
“That’s all right, just give me the gist of it. Abigail has a habit of reading any notes left lying around. Not that I’d leave yours lying around, but you know what I mean.”
Brett nodded and leaned closer to whisper, “I need to send a message to my mother, Henrietta Blackwell, in Bayfield, Wisconsin.”
Teddy nodded. “Got it. What’s it to say?”
“I want her to send me a woman willing to marry me. Right quick-like.”
“What’s the woman’s name?”
“I don’t know,” Brett admitted. “Whoever she can find.”
Teddy sighed and then nodded. “So you aren’t holding out any hope for Melbourne to produce the other women he promised?”
“No, but even if more do arrive, there’s no guarantee they’ll find me a suitable husband. There’re a lot of men to choose from.”
“Don’t I know it,” Teddy replied. “Think your mother knows two women?”
Brett didn’t want to push his luck but could understand why Teddy asked. “Can’t say,” he replied, “but let’s just start with one.”
“All right.” Teddy glanced over his shoulder again. “I’ll go send it right now. Abigail’s heading straight over to the reception. She plans on writing a special edition of the Gazette about the weddings.”
“I’ll head that way too—keep an eye on her.” Brett dug in his pocket. “How much do I owe you? I’ll pay extra, this being so urgent and all.”
“No charge,” Teddy said, “with the understanding that if your mother sends you a suitable bride, I have your permission to ask her to send one for me. Abigail and I don’t have any family we can ask, and she hasn’t left too many friends in the wake of our travels either.”
“Fair enough,” Brett replied, shaking Teddy’s hand. Rather than express his understanding that Abigail probably hadn’t left any friends anywhere, he simply said, “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as it’s sent,” Teddy replied, turning about.
Brett waited until Abigail walked down the church steps and then, keeping one eye on her, for she would surely question Teddy’s absence if she noticed it, he fell in among the crowd of folks making their way to the open meadow where the reception of all five couples was to be held.
There, he made small talk with several folks and ate a plate of food from the tables the women of the town had laden with kettles and platters to go along with the side of beef that Steve Putnam had provided to be roasted over an open fire.
Normally appreciative of every meal he ate, Brett couldn’t say he tasted much of what he put in his mouth. By the time he saw Teddy, who gave him a wave that said the telegram had been sent, Brett had had enough of the party and headed up the road toward home.
His mother would know exactly what type of woman would make a good wife. One who could cook and hopefully wanted a big family. Several boys for sure, but he wouldn’t mind a couple little girls either. Actually, he knew he wouldn’t mind the slightest if they were all girls. As long as he had others to share his home with, he really didn’t care. His businesses provided enough income to feed as many children as his new wife wanted.
He’d closed down both shops in order to attend the weddings, and considering most everyone in town was still at the wedding reception, there was no sense reopening them. Therefore, after crossing the railroad tracks, he rounded the big building he’d built two years ago with lumber brought in on the railroad from his family back home and crossed the little field to the house that had also been built with solid northern pine. Kansas didn’t have enough trees for all the lumber it needed, and after he’d left home, he’d let it be known his family had plenty of good Wisconsin lumber to sell and the railroads made getting that lumber to where it was needed far easier than it ever had been.
Not all the lumber in Oak Grove had come from Wisconsin, but a good amount had. Just last month he’d helped unload a train car full of Blackwell Lumber. It had been for the town, so he’d gotten a good deal on it from his older brother. The town was building a few small houses just a ways past his. Hoping to sell them to new residents. Ready-made homes were one sure way to bring in new citizens. That was what the mayor had said, and the town council agreed with him. Just like they’d agreed when Josiah had suggested building the church and the schoolhouse and sending money back east to have brides sent out here.
Done worrying about those brides, Brett collected his fishing pole from the tool shed and headed back toward the tracks that ran along his buildings. A mile south was where he was going. To where the cool water of the Smoky Hill River flowed westward, leaving enough moisture behind for a few trees to shade the grassy banks. There was no better way for a man to collect his thoughts than to spend a few hours fishing.
As he stepped over the first rail of hardened steel, he couldn’t help but remember the work that had gone into laying every inch, and the faint rumble beneath his feet had him looking eastward. A man could see for miles in this country, and though it was little more than a dot on the horizon, a westbound train was making its way into Oak Grove.
Knowing there was no need for him to meet it—there wouldn’t be anyone needing a blacksmith or chicken or horse feed, he turned his gaze southward and continued over the tracks and past the few houses that sat on the east edge of town.
Jackson Miller lived in one of those houses. He’d been lucky enough to marry one of the brides. Maggie McCary. Steve Putnam had married the other McCary sister, Mary. Brett had hoped he’d stand a chance with Maggie or Mary, especially after tasting Mary’s cooking. That was what he missed most about home. Ma’s cooking.
That wasn’t completely true. Although he missed the tasty and plentiful meals Ma always had on the table, he’d learned enough from her to cook reasonably well for himself. Leastwise enough to satisfy his appetite. What he really missed was having others around the table to share meals with him. Being one of eight kids, his family home had never been quiet. Not like his little house was. Quiet and empty.
Winning the Mail-Order Bride Page 1