by Vivi Holt
MAIL ORDER BRIDE: KATIE
ORPHAN BRIDES GO WEST
Book 3
VIVI HOLT
www.blacklabpress.com
ALSO BY VIVI HOLT
ORPHAN BRIDES GO WEST SERIES
Mail Order Bride: Christy (Book 1)
Mail Order Bride: Ramona (Book 2)
Mail Order Bride: Katie (Book 3)
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ABOUT MAIL ORDER BRIDE: KATIE
ORPHAN BRIDES GO WEST (BOOK 3)
1870
Newly pregnant, Katie learns that her husband has been killed in a construction accident in downtown Boston. Having lost her parents as a girl, she has to rely on her own skills to make her way. When she loses her job as well, she doesn’t know where to turn for help.
Swedish immigrant, Kristoff, owns a thriving business in California after the boom of the gold mines brought so many new settlers to the area. Even with all of his success, he longs for a companion to share his life with. After revealing his desires in a correspondence with his cousin back east, she tells him about Katie’s predicament. Before long Katie heads west to marry him, convinced it is the only way to take care of the baby growing inside of her.
Afraid to tell Kristoff about the baby, Katie tries desperately to keep her condition a secret. What will Kristoff do when he discovers she has been hiding the truth? Can their fledgling love overcome an omission this big?
Copyright © 2016 by Vivi Holt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
ALSO BY VIVI HOLT
ABOUT MAIL ORDER BRIDE: KATIE
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
Epilogue
OTHER BOOKS BY VIVI HOLT
DEAR READER
FOLLOW VIVI HOLT
HISTORICAL NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
November 1870, Boston
Chapter One
Quincy Market stretched out long and wide, the vendor stalls blanketing the interior of the building like colorful pieces in a patchwork quilt. Its red brick walls reached skyward, meeting the domed archway of the ceiling where a series of rectangular signs hung, advertising the most prominent occupants of the space: Bolton and Hicks, Lanksey’s, Hollands, Chapman and Co.’s. The gold lettering reached toward the cream expanse of the dome where decorative crown molding met inlaid floral designs in various colors. The building was impressive, and the sounds of conversation and vendors hawking their wares, along with the smell of cotton candy, fresh-baked croissants, and seasonal fruits emanated throughout the cavernous space. The markets sucked shoppers into a cacophony that excited the senses and loosened the purse strings.
Katie Pearson clutched the basket that hung from her arm and strode through the crowd with determination. She’d promised her husband Nicholas she would find an inexpensive steak for dinner that evening, and since they were rarely able to afford such a luxury, she was resolute in her mission to find one. Frowning, she stood on tip-toe to scan the marketplace.
“Maybe Lanskey’s Butchery will have what you’re looking for,” offered Hannah Petersen, who hurried to keep up with Katie. Hannah was resolved not to run in the crowd, since that would be unladylike. She was older than Katie, and took her position of greater maturity in their friendship seriously. So, she scurried as quickly as she could while glancing about the crowded hall.
“Maybe. Let’s go and see,” said Katie, making her way toward the large Lanskey’s pavilion. “Oh.” Katie stopped still. Katie’s features were pale, and her eyes widened in trepidation. She lifted a hand to her mouth, her face blanching.
“Katie, what is it?” asked Hannah, reaching for Katie’s arm to steady her.
“I don’t feel very well.”
Katie lowered her head, pulled back the cover on her empty shopping basket and threw up in it.
“Oh dear,” Hannah screwed up her nose, and patted Katie gently on the back. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure. I feel a touch dizzy. I’m also ravenously hungry and sick to my stomach, all at the same time. I feel very strange.”
“Really?” Hannah looked at her with interest.
“Yes. Ugh.”
“What about your bosoms, are they tender?”
“What?” asked Katie. She turned to face Hannah, her cheeks flushing with warmth. She tugged on her coat, pulling it more tightly around her.
“Well, do they?”
Katie wrapped her arms about herself surreptitiously, then squeezed gingerly as though she were hugging herself.
“Why yes, they are.”
“Sounds like you’re pregnant, my dear,” exclaimed Hannah, a broad grin cutting across her rosy face.
“Do you think so? I guess that makes sense. You might be right.” Katie beamed with delight. “Yes, I do believe you’re right. I must be pregnant.”
Her face paled, and she threw up quickly into the basket again, covering it back with the cheesecloth she had draped across the top to keep any produce they bought protected from the wind and insects.
“I think we’d better get you something to eat.” Hannah grabbed Katie by the elbow and pushed her toward a nearby confectioner’s stand. Fishing about in her purse, Hannah extracted two coins and handed them to the vendor who in return gave her two delicious looking bon bons.
“Mmmm, perfect,” murmured Katie, slipping the chocolate between her lips and chewing happily on it. Her dainty face regained some color, and she pushed a flyaway lock of blonde hair behind one ear as she ate. “Nick is going to be so happy,” she smiled at Hannah, “he’s been wanting a son so badly he says he could almost taste it.”
“Well, son or daughter, he’ll be as pleased as punch. And you’ll have everything you’ve always wanted since your parents died – a family of your own and a home to share together. I’m so happy for you Katie."
“Thank you, Hannah. What do you say we skip the shopping trip and head back home? I can’t exactly fill this basket with groceries now, since I’ll have to clean it out. Also, I really want to see Nick and tell him the good news.”
Hannah laughed, nodding her head in agreement. The two women linked arms and hurried from the market and into the street beyond. The roads were slick with the ice of an early winter freeze. Katie wrapped the scarf hanging loosely about her neck more tightly, and buttoned her coat with a shiver. She couldn’t wait to see Nick and tell him about the baby. They’d only been married a few months, but they’d been sweethearts for almost as long as she could remember. She’d never been courted by anyone else. They’d grown up on the same street, attended the same school and played together with the other children on their block. He wa
s everything to her, and now she could give him the one thing he’d always wanted – a child.
They ducked around a horsecart, its red and yellow wagon trundling steadily down the street full of passengers and pulled by a set of black and bay horses, tossing their heads gaily and lifting their legs in unison. Katie and Hannah bustled onto the sidewalk, avoiding an icy puddle, and headed for their nearby apartment building. Hannah had once been Katie’s teacher at the small school on the corner of their block and had been there to comfort her when both her parents died in a carriage accident in downtown Boston. Then, when Katie moved into her building with her new husband, Nick, a few years later, the two of them had become fast friends, sharing everything together.
“You’ll have to get some maternity clothing before too long,” said Hannah, her voice catching with emotion.
“Yes, of course. I’m sure one of the ladies from church will have some to spare.”
“No doubt.”
They arrived at the squat building where they lived. Several sturdy oak trees filled the small garden in front of the building, their long branches reaching across the busy street, shadowing the passing wagons, buggies and pedestrians. Winter was almost upon them, and leaves fell about them as they hurried up the steps. The ground was covered in a blanket of the pointed oak leaves in various shades of orange, red, and yellow, and the stoop hadn’t escaped the deluge either. Their landlord was busily sweeping the troublemakers from the top step, his brow furrowed in frustration.
“Good evening Mr. Hungerford,” chimed both women simultaneously as they hurried past him. He harrumphed at them grumpily, and continued working.
Inside the building, Katie stopped to unravel the long, red scarf from around her neck. She was beginning to feel overly warm and queasy again. It was then that she saw the two men at the bottom of the staircase speaking quietly together and looking her way. One of the men wore a bowler hat. It sat jauntily on top of his head. His faded suit jacket was missing a button. The other man held his hat in his hands and his small eyes squinted at her through a pair of spectacles that had slipped down his long nose.
“Mrs. Pearson?” asked the taller one, removing his hat and holding it at his side as he walked toward her. The other man followed, a few strands of greying hair combed over the top of his bald head.
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective McNamara, and this is Detective Constantine. We’re with the Boston Police Department, Ma’am.”
“Oh. Are you looking for me?” asked Katie, her voice quavering.
“Yes, I’m afraid so, Ma’am. There’s been an accident. I’m sorry to say that your husband has been killed.”
Katie stared at them, her eyes wide. “No!” she whispered. Then she fell to the floor in a heap, unconscious. Hannah screamed and ran to her side. She took Katie’s head off the hard, tiled floor and placed it in her lap. She stroked the pale cheeks gently even as Katie’s eyes flickered open.
“Nick,” she said, tears squeezing from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” whispered Hannah, her own cheeks wet with tears.
Hannah leaned her head over to hover above Katie’s curled figure, and the two women sobbed as the Boston sky fell dark about them, and an early snow drifted silently to the ground outside to cover the thick spread of leaves that lay there. The sounds from the street grew silent as neighbors hurried home for dinner. People returning home to their own apartments moved about them, shaking their heads and tut tutting, wondering what the two young ladies were about, laying on the floor of the foyer like that. As they rested there, the cold of the floor seeped up through Katie’s coat and into her body, chilling her to the bone. She wondered how she would be able to go on without Nick. He had been her comfort, her friend, her lover, and now he was gone. What would she do?
Sacramento
Chapter Two
Kristoff Petersen strode down the main street of Sacramento, California, squinting into the morning sun rising over the distant Sierra Nevada mountain range. The sky was lightening to a subtle grey with blue tones near the horizon, and the dark shadows of the storefronts jutted sharply across the dusty street in front of him.
“Howdy Kristoff. Woohee!” called a feminine voice from above.
Kristoff looked up, shielding his eyes with one hand. He saw Belle Waters leaning out of the top floor of the saloon, her bust spilling out of a bright red corset, her auburn curls loosely trailing across her bare shoulders.
“Hello Belle, how are you today?”
“I’d be better if you were up here with me. When are you going to make an honest woman out of me?” She winked at him suggestively, and leaned further over the windowsill.
“You know you’d tire of me before sundown, Belle.” Kristoff chuckled good-naturedly and waved goodbye to her as he continued walking.
“I’d like to give it a try,” she called after him, her laughter echoing down the street as she slipped back through the window and closed it shut behind her.
Kristoff ran his fingers through his short, blonde curls and nodded to a busty woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of the Wesson Bakery. She wore a white bonnet on her head, and her floral print dress was buttoned high beneath her chin.
“’Mornin’ Mrs. Wesson,” he called.
“Mr. Petersen, how are you on this fine morning?” She paused her sweeping for a moment to smile at him.
“I’m doin’ well, Ma’am and you?”
“Just fine, just fine. I saw Mayor Jones has started pasting flyers about town already, you gonna run against him this time? You’ll get my vote.”
“Why thank you, Mrs. Wesson. I appreciate it. I’ll let you know, I haven’t quite decided yet – not sure if politics is for me.”
“That’s why you gotta run. You’re just the kind of people we need in office.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You have a good day now.” He tipped his hat, and spun on his heel to continue down the street. Kristoff stopped beneath a hanging sign that read, Petersen Mercantile and Grocery. He studied it for a moment, his hands on his hips, then walked into the store.
“Good morning, sir,” called a middle-aged woman who was standing on a step stool dusting a high shelf containing bolts of variously colored and patterned textiles.
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Hutchins,” said Kristoff, slipping off his coat and folding it carefully over his arm.
“It’s a beautiful day, that’s for sure. I hope you didn’t stay too late last night taking inventory.”
“No, I was out of here by seven o’clock. Did the sugar order come in this morning?” Kristoff strode toward the back of the store. Mrs. Hutchins called after him, “it arrived promptly at six. It’s out back where Steve left it.”
“Thank you.”
Kristoff stepped into his office, and closed the door behind him, looking for a moment through the glass pane at the top of the door to the shop floor beyond. The store was filled with barrels of goods – flour, sugar, apples, oranges, nuts and grains. The outside of the room was lined with shelving holding reams of linens, pre-made clothing, boots, tools, candy and other miscellaneous items. Kristoff scanned the goods with pride. He sold almost everything a person could need within the four walls of his mercantile. And he was known throughout the region as a man of integrity who stocked quality goods at a reasonable price.
He smiled at the clean and ordered efficiency of the layout in front of him. Then he turned on his heel and walked to the desk to sit down. His mind kept wandering back to the same line of thinking that had been occupying his thoughts for months now. On the surface he seemed to have everything a man could desire in life. He was successful, the owner of a reputable business in downtown Sacramento. He was well respected throughout the community, even being considered for the upcoming mayoral election. A deacon at the local Baptist church, he never missed the weekly Bible study.
Yet there was one thing absent in his life. He had no one to share it with. His entire extended family still lived
either in Norway or Boston. His parents had emigrated from Norway to Boston when he was four years old. They’d both since died and he’d travelled out to California alone, to try his hand at the pioneering life. Focused on building his career, he hadn’t found a lady who’d captured his heart. And now, many years later, he knew that all the success in the world couldn’t change the way that he felt deep down inside. Alone.
Chapter Three
Katie lay silently in bed, looking up at the sloping ceiling above her head. Her eyes traced the line of a crack as it snaked through the paint, across the crown molding and down one corner of the wall. Tears trickled over her cheeks, and her hands lay limply on her forehead as she sobbed. Darkness still blanketed the cold room, but dawn was approaching and fingertips of sunlight snuck beneath the curtains.
Today was the day she would say farewell to her husband - Nicholas’s funeral was to be held in the small chapel where they’d attended church every Sunday. Katie didn’t know how she was going to get through the day. How could she be expected to stand by and watch them bury her husband? It wasn’t right. He was too young. They had so much more life to live together. They’d had plans, and dreams. And there was a baby on the way. A baby that Nick had longed for, and now would never know. She buried her face into the downy pillow, and let out a long, low wail. The muffled sound filled the silence of the chilly apartment, and Katie heard her mother-in-law stirring in the living room where she was sleeping on a spare feather bed Katie had borrowed from Hannah, who lived alone down the hall.
“Are you all right?” Elsie whispered from her bed.
“Fine, thank you.”
“Shall I make some coffee?”
“Yes please.”
Elsie Pearson, Katie’s mother-in-law, was a seamstress. She lived across town on her own in a small boarding room in a working class area of Boston. She had insisted on staying with Katie for the funeral, and Katie was glad of the company. The two women had talked and cried together the previous evening before bed. Katie’s eyes felt sore and puffy - she wiped them dry with a handkerchief she’d hidden beneath her pillow. She didn’t want Elsie to see her crying. Elsie had enough grief of her own to cope with, she didn’t need to shoulder the burden of Katie’s grief as well. Katie took a deep breath and rolled out of bed. It was time to face the day.