Texas Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  Copyright © 2015 by Linda Broday

  Cover and internal design © 2015 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Gregg Gulbronson

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  An excerpt from Twice a Texas Bride

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Many, many thanks to my awesome critique partners, who are always quick to lend support and gently push me to be a better writer than I am. I’m so blessed to have these wonderful ladies. They welcomed me into their little family and made me feel that I truly have something to contribute. Our friendship and admiration for each other means the world to me. May each of us keep learning and growing and ever striving for the elusive golden ring as we travel this amazing path together. I love you all.

  One

  North Central Texas

  Spring 1878

  It was strange how a day could go south quicker than a steam locomotive on a downhill slope.

  Cooper Thorne drew his black hat farther down on his forehead and reflected on that fact as he rode across his ranch land, trying to recapture the good mood he’d enjoyed before his morning turned into an unholy mess.

  He kneed Rebel into a trot and navigated a small rise before reining the powerful buckskin to a halt to take in the breathtaking sunrise. This was his favorite vantage point from which to gaze out over the gently rolling hills that comprised the Long Odds Ranch.

  Tall cliffs bordered the six hundred and forty acres on three sides. The only way to enter his spread was from the east. He felt safe here.

  It had taken blood and sweat and dogged determination to get where he was. Fair to say he’d been through hell and come out the other side to claim this life for his own.

  He rested his elbow on the saddle horn and took in the view.

  This wild Texas land was his home. For the first time in his almost thirty years, he’d truly found a place to belong. It felt right, and his soul was at peace at last.

  Or as much as it ever would be.

  The rich black soil that could raise fine crops or prime cattle was now in his blood. It had put back together his broken dreams.

  He’d chomped at the bit to get out and put his hands to work…until he got to breakfast. Mack Malone, the cook he’d hired a month ago, had burned the biscuits, charred the eggs, and mangled the flapjacks. Then his horse threw a shoe and Cooper had to round up the ranch blacksmith to put a new one on. And to make matters worse, one of his ranch hands up and quit with branding about to start. All before dawn. He needed this moment of peace before heading back to work.

  Because heaven only knew what awaited him next…

  ***

  His middle brother, Rand Sinclair, sat cooling his heels on the porch when Cooper finally made it back to the house sometime that afternoon.

  Rand’s ever-present grin widened as he unwound his tall frame and got slowly to his feet. “Thought I’d have to send up smoke signals or get Brett to track you down or something. Figured you’d be coming in to get some vittles sooner or later, but I’d about decided maybe you’d packed up and moved on without telling anyone.”

  Cooper dismounted. “I do run a ranch, you know. Out here we work from can to cain’t, unlike you. All you do is pour whiskey down drunks and watch their wives have a conniption.”

  “There’s a lot more to it than that, and you darn well know it. I work hard to make a living.”

  “Reckon so. You eaten?”

  “This an invite?”

  “All you’ll get.”

  “In that case, I can always eat.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Cooper led the way to the kitchen table.

  Over a plateful of beans with chunks of ham and fried potatoes that were thankfully almost edible, Cooper turned to Rand. “What brings you all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be in town lubricating those drunks and taking their money?”

  Rand owned the Lily of the West in the nearby town of Battle Creek. Their younger brother, Brett Liberty, had acquired the Wild Horse Ranch, five miles as the crow flies from the Long Odds Ranch, though it was more like seven or eight if you traveled by road.

  “They don’t need me for that. It’ll happen whether I’m there or not.” A big grin stretched from ear to ear and devilment twinkled in Rand’s blue eyes. He leaned back as though very satisfied with himself.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Cooper sensed a shoe was about to drop. He didn’t like dropping shoes. Or grinning brothers who knew something he didn’t. “You look like a cat that just caught himself a big fat mouse.”

  “A woman arrived on the stage today. A mail-order bride. Claims you agreed to marry her.”

  Cooper’s fork clattered to the table. “Of all the…! Whose idea of a sick joke is this?”

  “Can’t understand why you didn’t see fit to tell Brett and me that you’d changed your mind about taking a wife,” Rand teased. “You being head honcho of the Battle Creek Bachelors’ Club and all.”

  “You know better than that. Wipe that grin off your face before I knock it off,” Cooper growled.

  Rand shrugged but kept grinning anyway. “Fact is, she stepped off the stage and was mighty put out that you weren’t there waitin’ to welco
me her. I did what I could to help.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  His brother put his hand over his heart in mock horror. “You wound me.”

  “Yeah, well, whoever is behind these rotten shenanigans had best take warning and find a rock to crawl under. When I catch him, there’ll be hell to pay. For all I know, this could be one of your harebrained stunts. You seem to think it’s so all-fired hilarious.”

  The grin faded from Rand’s face. “I wouldn’t joke about anything as serious as this, Coop. After all these years, surely you believe that.”

  “Yeah, I don’t reckon you’d be mixed up in something like this. But someone sure the hell brought her here and put her up to this.” Either that, or the woman had hatched the scheme all by herself. Maybe she was looking for some easy money and thought Cooper would pay her off to leave.

  Well, the joke would be on her. Cooper had little money, easy or otherwise. What he got he turned around and put right back into the ranch. All except for the nest egg he’d put aside to buy the Zachary place that neighbored his property. He almost had enough saved, and then the better portion of the valley would be his.

  Rand laid a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Reckon only one thing to do. Come into town and straighten her out. Name’s Miss Delta Dandridge. Came all the way from Georgia. Says she’s not leaving till she talks to you. She took a room at Mabel’s Boardinghouse—you can find her there.”

  If that wasn’t just dandy! The day that had begun with such promise had certainly gone to hell in a handbasket fifteen ways from Sunday.

  And who in the hell had a name like Delta?

  “You tell that little conniver I’ll be in town first thing in the morning,” Cooper snapped. “I’ll send her packing.”

  ***

  Delta tried to still the tremor in her hands as she stepped onto the porch of Mabel’s Boardinghouse. She breathed the crisp morning air.

  Rancher looking for a wife. Must be of sound mind, body, and moral character. That’s what the notice in the Matrimonial Harvest catalog had said. She’d upheld her end of the bargain and could attest with certainty to her exemplary mind, body, and character.

  But the gentleman?

  That Mr. Thorne hadn’t seen fit to meet her stage yesterday still smarted. Alone, with only a stranger to guide her, she’d taken a room here at the boardinghouse rather than the dark, dreary hotel that had sent a sense of foreboding shivering up her spine.

  Now she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to meet the man who’d agreed to be her husband.

  Yet, here he was, a few feet away.

  Fortunately, the tall rancher had his back to her, which gave her the advantage of seeing him first.

  “Mr. Thorne? Cooper Thorne?”

  He turned and Delta’s breath caught in her throat. My goodness, he was quite impressive. Tall and lean, there was a rugged quality about him from his chiseled features down to boots that had many miles on them. And a good deal of cow manure, if she wasn’t mistaken. His dark gray shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the black Stetson that shaded his eyes had seen better days.

  Yet it was the deadly Colt on his hip that gave her pause. He appeared a man to be reckoned with. Everything about him was hard and unyielding and put her in mind of someone who’d never known any kind of softness. For a moment, it took her aback. She wondered if she could please him.

  “Miss Dandridge, I suppose.” The deep timbre of his voice seemed to vibrate the air between them.

  “Yes. I’m so happy to finally meet you.” She smiled, covering the few steps with her hand extended.

  He touched her palm for the briefest of seconds and cleared his throat. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  The wild beating of Delta’s heart suddenly stopped, and for a moment she feared it wouldn’t start again. “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know how to break this to you gently. I’m not looking for a wife, ma’am. Never was. I’m a bachelor and quite content to stay this way. I’m not sure how such a mix-up could happen.”

  “So you never intended to keep your promise? You dragged me here under false pretenses. Why would you do that, Mr. Thorne?”

  From under the brim of his hat, she glimpsed surprise and something indiscernible in an honest gaze that was the color of gunmetal.

  “What I’m saying is…well, I didn’t send for you.”

  White-hot anger swept over Delta. It was one thing to spurn her, but calling her a liar made her mad enough to fight. Yanking the packet of letters from her pocket, she thrust them into his hands.

  “Then would you mind explaining these? If you can.”

  Cooper didn’t spare them a glance. “Look, lady. I didn’t write them. And if I ever find out who did, I’ll make him rue the day he took it into his head to claim to be me.”

  “If you’ll just read the letters, you’ll see the promises, the words of endearment that brought me here.”

  A muscle in his jaw worked as he shook his head. “Once and for all, I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  “Maybe if you just gave yourself a chance to get to know me.”

  “I can’t offer hope where there is none. I’m sure you’re a very fine woman who’ll make someone an excellent wife.” Finality echoed in his soft words. “I’m not on the market.”

  Delta went very still. Slowly, her situation began to sink in. There would be no marriage. She was stuck in Battle Creek, Texas, with an empty purse and no prospects. She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and humiliate her even further.

  He continued, “Seems we’ve both been played for fools. I’ll be glad to pay your way to wherever you want to go.”

  The last thread of Delta’s dignity held fast. Her voice was cold and brittle. “You can keep your money, Mr. Thorne. I won’t take one cent from you.”

  With that, she jerked the letters from his hand and strode into the boardinghouse with her head held high.

  Two

  Safely upstairs in her room, Delta sat numbly on the edge of a bed that sagged on one end and bowed in the middle and let the tears flow. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go back to Cedartown. She couldn’t ever go back. That bridge had burned. Her mother had died three months ago, although in truth she’d been dead long before that. Delta had no family, no friends, no place to belong.

  She allowed despair to grip her for only a moment. Crying wouldn’t solve a blasted thing. What was done was done. She would survive this latest blow somehow.

  Wiping her eyes, she opened her small, frayed reticule. There was fourteen cents inside, which was every penny to her name.

  What was she going to do? Shaking, she clung to what strength she had.

  Battle Creek was her home now. Here she would stay. No one was going to run her out. Surely there was a job of some sort for a woman with willing hands. She’d look until she found one, even if she had to beg.

  By the time noon arrived, she’d washed her face and straightened her best dress—the one she had intended to wear to the marriage ceremony—carefully arranging the folds over the tear she’d mended. Inhaling a calming breath, she went downstairs. Mabel King had fixed a simple lunch. Delta took a place at the empty table, wondering where the other boarders were.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” Mrs. King passed her a bowl of savory vegetable soup. “I thought I heard you crying.”

  “Please, don’t you fret about me, Mrs. King. I’ll be just fine.” Delta accepted a chunk of bread to go with her soup. “Where is everyone?”

  Last night the table had been almost full.

  “I’d like it if you’d call me Mabel. I packed their lunches this morning. They eat where they work.”

  “Speaking of that, would you know of any jobs around here for an enterprising woman who’s down on her luck?”

  “Why, y
es, maybe I do. Mr. John Abercrombie mentioned that he’s hard-pressed to handle the mercantile by himself. His wife died a few months ago. She ran that business mostly by herself. John doesn’t know how to make a go of the store without Nell.”

  Flickers of hope rose. Delta wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Then I intend to pay him a visit.”

  “One thing I should tell you. John…well, John is a hard man to get to know. And since Nell died, he’s gotten worse. Just don’t let him scare you.”

  Like old dogs, Delta supposed. If they sensed fear, they went for the throat. What could very well be the only job in town called for someone with steely resolve.

  Yet she doubted she had any choice. Besides, she could always throw John Abercrombie a bone. Or growl back.

  Less than an hour later, she strolled toward the mercantile, her heels striking the sidewalk with determination. At the precise moment she passed the saloon, Cooper Thorne stepped out and into her path.

  Surprise rippled across his face when he noticed her. It was obvious that he hadn’t planned to run into her. But she had to give the man credit—instead of turning away, as she fully expected, he tapped the brim of his hat and gave her a half smile, though it appeared to be with considerable effort.

  “Miss Dandridge.” His voice was whiskey-roughened and unapologetic.

  Delta raised her chin a trifle and glared. “Mr. Thorne.”

  Stepping smartly around him, she continued on her way with her head held high. She should probably thank her lucky stars that she hadn’t wed him. It appeared the man had a drinking problem. Swilling whiskey in the middle of the day was a sign of a serious character deficiency.

  Why, he’d likely beat a wife if he ever were to take one.

  Putting him out of her mind, she entered the dim interior of a mercantile that was narrow across but extended a good ways back. It had only one window to the left of the doorway. As dim as the store was by the window, she could only imagine how dark it was at the rear.

  Squaring her shoulders, she approached a thin man behind the counter whose skin was stretched tightly over the bones of his face. “I’m looking for Mr. Abercrombie.”