Table of Contents
THE SUBSTITUTE WIFE
Acknowledgments
Introduction
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
THE SUBSTITUTE WIFE
Brides Of Little Creede Book 1
CICI CORDELIA
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
THE SUBSTITUTE WIFE
Copyright©2018
CICI CORDELIA
Cover Design by Syneca Featherstone
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-609-4
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To Harrison and Retta Osborn,
the inspiration for The Substitute Wife
A true-life love story from the Old West
In memory of Carol Anderson
My Mom and biggest fan
You will forever be missed
-Cheryl
Acknowledgments
A huge thanks to Crystal Lovejoy and Carol Anderson (sisters) for the family history lesson that sparked the idea for our story. (Cheryl Yeko & Char Chaffin, aka: CiCi Cordelia)
Introduction
In the later 1800s, the silver mining craze easily caught up to the level of frenzy gold fever had already created, and men flocked to the Colorado Territory to try their luck at staking a mine and making a fortune. Colorado reached statehood in the summer of 1876, when silver fever was high. These newbie miners brought their sweethearts, their wives, and their families, enduring untold hardships in their bid for instant wealth. Some established themselves first, then sent for those sweethearts and family members to join them.
Their stories were amazing, thrilling, dangerous—and endlessly inspiring.
Chapter 1
Chicago, Illinois
March 1878
The earsplitting whistle made Retta Pierce choke up as she hugged her sister goodbye on the train platform. Jenny’s slight frame trembled in her grip, and Retta fought back her worry.
Too thin. Too frail. Shoulders drooping, as though too heavy to hold up.
“There must be a better way, Jenny,” Retta murmured, stricken. “It’s just not right—”
Her sister’s features took on that stubborn look Retta knew so well, indicating there’d be no changing her mind. “And what would be right, Retta? For Papa to really hurt you the next time he feels the urge to beat the devil from your soul? For him to finally slip and hit Addie?” Tipping up Retta’s chin with two shaking fingers, she smiled gently. “That darling girl is the best thing that ever happened to this family, no matter how her skunk of a father ran off and left you.”
Jenny glanced over to where their Aunt Millie stood under the metal portico, holding two-year-old Adeline in her arms. The desolate flapping of a loosened, rusty panel, noisily vibrating in the chilly breeze, only added to the solemnness of the day. Moisture gave a sad sheen to her aunt’s eyes as she cuddled the toddler closer.
Retta’s sigh was as broken as her heart. “No, of course not. But to leave you when you need me the most . . . Please, Jenny. Don’t ask.”
The dark circles around Jenny’s blue eyes gave her complexion a grayish cast. She shouldn’t be standing out in the wind like this, as sick as she was. She could barely stay upright. But Retta knew all too well her sister’s inner core of strength, because Jenny was cut from the same cloth as their beloved mother, gone three years now. “Mama wouldn’t want me to desert you,” Retta began, only to be silenced by her sister’s dismissive wave of one skeletal hand.
“Mama would do exactly what I’m doing.” She shoved a wrinkled pouch into Retta’s shabby reticule, ignoring her protests. “Take it. You think I would leave Mama’s rubies to rot in Papa’s strongbox?” She snorted weakly, but her disdain was evident. “It’s your future, darling.” Her voice dropped to a wisp. “It’s my legacy to you.”
Fighting back tears, Retta held on to her sister’s fingers when she would have pulled away. “You can’t go back. Papa will know you took Mama’s necklace, and will beat you for it.” She gripped her bag between whitened knuckles, then gasped at the clinking sound coming from within. “Are those coins? Jenny, where did you get them?”
Jenny drew herself up, straightening her shoulders, and for a shining moment Retta saw her sister as she’d been, before consumption ravaged her body. “My dowry. Yours, now.” She patted the reticule in Retta’s fist. “There’s a letter folded inside with the coins. You take that letter to Harrison. It explains everything. Tell him I wish for him a happy life. Tell him I’m sorry.”
She dashed wispy locks of dull-brown hair off her perspiring forehead. “I’m going to stay with Aunty until, well, until . . .” Her chin firmed. “I will be safe and well-cared for. By the time Papa sobers up enough to realize we both left him, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.”
A rambunctious boy bumped them as he sprinted across the wooden platform to keep up with his family. “Oh, Jenny,” Retta murmured sadly, steadying her sister when she nearly lost her footing.
Retta blinked away fresh tears as Jenny gave her hand a final squeeze, before she eased away.
Aunt Millie transferred Retta’s sleepy daughter into her arms then whispered in her ear, “I know, child. She wouldn’t admit anything but I know how sick our Jenny is. I’m taking her back to Dewfield with me. I promise you I will never say a thing to your father, and I’ll care for her faithfully.”
“You’ll keep in touch? You’ll write?” Retta clung to her aunt’s vow, even as everything inside her demanded she remain to care for Jenny herself.
“Yes, indeed. Have no worries.” Millie curled a
supporting arm around Jenny’s thin shoulders. “I’d best be getting you back to the house, darling girl. A nice cup of cocoa and a nap will do you wonders. Just you wait and see.”
An errant tear tracked down Jenny’s pale cheek that she quickly batted away before offering an encouraging smile. “Harrison is a good man, Retta. Be happy. All I want for you and Addie is to have a good life. Promise me you’ll give him a chance.”
Retta’s stomach clenched with fear and uncertainty, even as she hesitantly agreed. For the love of her sister, she’d acquiesce to her final wish. Though it’d been four years since Jenny had last seen her fiancé. Who knew what kind of man he was now?
Jenny traced a slender finger down Retta’s cheek. “I love you, little sister.”
Blinking through a flood of tears that fell silently against the top of her sleeping daughter’s head, Retta whispered, “I love you, Jenny. I’ll hold you in my heart forever.”
There were no final goodbyes, just an assortment of promises and encouraging murmurs, before Aunt Millie guided Jenny from the platform, toward a waiting hackney.
Struggling for composure, Retta held Addie close. As the March wind whipped around her ears, she watched them go until their figures merged into a single, blurred image, and the train whistle blew its final, ‘All Aboard’ warning. Only then did she allow the conductor to help her with her baggage.
Harrison had reserved a sleeper for Jenny, an extravagance to be sure, but safer for a woman traveling alone. What will he do when I arrive instead?
Blinking furiously, Retta guided Addie through the doorway. Inside the cramped compartment, she laid the sleepy child on the narrow bed and covered her with the only blanket she could find. Addie cuddled into a ball, snoring lightly. Retta brushed the tangled golden curls from her fair brow, trying to envision what sort of future awaited them out West.
Love for her child stiffened her spine. Her baby—her world.
I’ll make a better life for you, I promise.
Even if she had to travel halfway across the country and marry a stranger to do it.
~ ~ ~
Outside Little Creede, Colorado
April 1878
“Well, Copper,” Harrison Carter said soothingly, stepping onto the wagon plank and settling himself on the wide wooden seat, “time to pick up our girl.”
One of the first things he’d done when coming out West was to capture and tame his wild mustang. But even after years of building trust with his old friend, the burnished stallion still had a bit of a rebellious streak. Tossing his silken mane with an indignant whinny, Copper turned his head and gave Harrison an annoyed stare, while adjusting to the pull of the wagon straps. The horse was more than capable of handling the heftier burden, though Harrison knew Copper hated it. Three other horses—two mares and another stallion—were stabled at the ranch, but Copper remained Harrison’s favorite.
With a cluck of his tongue, he gently steered the horse and wagon toward town.
Jenny was due in before dusk, and Harrison would be there, waiting. It was the least he could do after the brave girl traveled all this way to marry him.
She’s not a girl any longer.
No, Jenny would be all grown up. But he’d bet she was still that sweet, innocent young lady he’d met at Missy Brower’s wedding in Bolster. Harrison had known right off she was the one for him. After a short courtship, he’d proposed, and she’d shyly accepted, allowing him to steal a kiss from rosy lips he swore he could still taste.
A scant few months of betrothal adjustment had gone by too fast, before he and his brother Frank left Illinois. For a chance at a better life, they’d set off for Colorado Territory to make their fortune in silver, from the mines their uncle left them in his will.
Faithfully, Jenny had waited for him. Very soon, she’d be in his arms.
As the wind died down and the air stilled, Harrison whipped off his Stetson and blotted the sweat from his brow with his forearm. Damn, he hadn’t expected it to take so long to get the silver mines up and running. Talking Frank into joining him had been tricky enough, without years of struggles and hardship adding to the mix. At times, they’d come close to chucking it all and returning to Bolster with their tails between their legs. Only the dread of having to listen to a multitude of ‘I told you so’ from family and friends, kept them out West.
Harrison studied the barbwire enclosing the south border of his land and caught the last glint of the low-hanging, late-afternoon sun. The fencing, brand-new, surrounded most of the three hundred acres Uncle Norton had left him. With the mines producing strongly, Frank’s house almost finished, and Harrison’s lacking only a few pieces of furniture, the Carter Brothers’ future shone brightly. A plan to buy up more of the surrounding land was in the works as well.
And not a moment too soon, for a man needs room to grow a family. Harrison broke out in a wide grin as he raised his eyes to Cascade Mountain and its lower summit that served as a backdrop to their ranchland. Judging by the sun’s angle against the closest ridge, he should reach Little Creede in plenty of time to meet the stagecoach . . . and finally put his arms around Jenny.
Closer to town, the rough-scrabbled trail smoothed out and widened. Low brush and dried-out clumps of prairie grass gave way to greener patches speckled with late-spring wildflowers. Bonney Creek bubbled noisily, its runoff from the higher range dumping the last of the melted snow from the previous winter into its generous rock bed. Once he and Frank secured those extra acres, North Bonney would cross neatly over their extended property line. Someday his and Jenny’s children would play in that creek.
Maybe even Frank’s children too, if the cranky bugger ever cheered up enough to attract a woman who’d be willing to marry him. Harrison chuckled at the thought, and Copper snorted loudly as if in response.
Higher grasses opened to a trail fork leading to several other smaller silver mines located in the hills. Carter Brothers Mining sat higher than most, where the ore formed deeper but proved more plentiful. Yes, their workers had to toil a bit harder, but the rewards had been great. Satisfaction settled in Harrison’s gut like smooth whiskey as he urged Copper into an easy canter, the wagon rolling along on well-oiled axles.
Up ahead, Little Creede’s assortment of outbuildings and newer structures came into view. The town was growing a mite too speedily in his opinion. Harrison guided Copper along the rutted street, nodding to several miners he recognized as they ambled the wooden sidewalks. A pair of older women paused in front of Loman’s Mercantile and tittered behind work-roughened hands as he tipped his hat to them. He tried not to frown at the sight of their worn, faded day-dresses and shawls. No doubt these were miners’ wives, come to town for supplies.
The life of a miner wasn’t easy. He knew that firsthand. But his Jenny wouldn’t suffer callused fingers and mud-stained half-boots. He’d make sure of it.
Harrison’s mood lightened as the carriage station came into view. Excitement grew in his chest and he urged Copper at a faster clip down Main Street, noting the dust churning in the distance. The stagecoach, six horses pulling its load of travelers and baggage, would arrive very soon. The north end of Cascade Station came into view and he couldn’t wait a second more. He eased Copper into the wagon lot, barely pausing for a complete stop before he jumped down and flung the straps around the nearest post.
“Ho, Carter, you collectin’ that lil’ gal of yours?” Moe Parker called to Harrison as he strode toward the station.
Harrison didn’t even slow down, passing the grizzled miner who owned one of the larger spreads between Little Creede and Silver Cache. “That I am, Parker.” Harrison managed a perfunctory nod as his legs ate up the distance and the dirt path gave way to wooden planks, ignoring Moe’s raspy cackle behind him. He probably looked like an overeager young fool, but damn it all, it’d been nearly four years, and he could
almost taste his Jenny’s welcoming kisses . . .
The coach doors flew open and a few men jumped out, striding off toward the Lucky Lady Saloon down the street. Anxious for his first glimpse of Jenny, Harrison watched as two more travelers disembarked. The stage held roughly six to eight people and so few women traveled West by themselves. Surely Jenny would be easy to spot, with her silky brown curls and those huge blue eyes—
He hurried along the platform, squinting, worry forming along with the anticipation of seeing her again. What if something happened along the way? Ten days on a train was difficult enough, but over two weeks stuck on three different stages held its own kind of danger. Anything could have gone wrong.
A slight young woman with a crown of golden hair stepped from the coach. Something about her rang a distant bell in his memory. She held out her arms, a soft smile forming on her face. Harrison found his lips curving at the sight of a little girl with thick, bouncy curls as bright as the sun. The child jumped into her arms with a squeal of laughter and she swung the tot around amongst happy screeches.
Then she turned toward Harrison and her bright blue eyes locked onto him. Her smile faded as she perched the tiny lass on her hip and slowly walked toward him.
Glancing over her head at the gaping door of the stage, Harrison frowned when no one else stepped out and the drivers began unloading baggage from the roof of the coach.
What the hell—?
He started for the nearest driver, when a gloved hand touched his arm.
“Are you Harrison Carter?”
The slender, golden-haired woman had stopped before him. Looking down, Harrison stared into eyes the exact same color and shape as Jenny’s. But there the similarity ended. This woman was very young, barely big enough to carry the little girl who gazed at him with deep-brown eyes, her thumb in her mouth.
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