The Drifter's Mail-Order Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (The Dalton Brides Book 4)

by Cassie Hayes

“Oh, good point,” said Sam as he reached into his pocket. “I almost forgot, here’s a letter for ya.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yeah, it's from your brother. He wants ya to come to Texas.”

  Nate's eyes narrowed. “You read my mail?”

  “No help for it! There’s a tear in the envelope, see?” he said and pointed. “Is it my fault if’n the letter fell out?”

  Nate rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. It hurt. He winced as he touched his wound and blinked a few times to clear his vision. He was tired of dealing with ranchers who didn't know how to run their business or make a good profit. He hoped whatever Walt wrote didn't add to an already disastrous cattle drive. He unfolded the letter and studied it, but the words were too blurry for him to read. Not a good sign.

  “Looks like the dandy got ya a good one,” said the grizzled cowhand as he stared at Nate’s head. “Want me to read your letter for ya?”

  “I'll be fine, go make sure that idiot is still alive, will ya? And then tell the rest of the boys to wait for me. I'll be back.”

  “Where ya goin’?”

  “Post office.” He strode past Sam and headed down the street. He didn't get far when another bout of dizziness hit, and he slowed his pace to keep from falling over. He'd been hit in the head before, be it from a fist, a kick, or the occasional hard object, but this particular hit, coupled with Walt's letter, managed to do something Nate hadn’t yet. It knocked some sense into him. “Sense” being the operative word.

  Nate used to have his share of good sense at one time, the type other men respected and sought out so they could benefit too. Nate, being as sensible as he was, gave his advice freely. Not only did he give it, he was willing to receive it.

  Except for a piece of advice given him by his last employer, one Thomas Adams, who advised Nate to stay away from his daughters, or else. The “or else” meant Nate would decorate a cottonwood come morning if Mr. Adams found any of his precious daughters compromised.

  Nate wasn't stupid and, lucky for him, wasn’t attracted to any of the four women. This made it easy to stay away from them. Keeping them away from him, on the other hand, was another matter.

  Two of them snuck into the bunkhouse one night. A third rode out to where he and some of the men were branding cattle. If he’d listened to his good sense, he’d have high-tailed it off the Adams’ spread pronto. But no… Instead, Lucretia, the fourth and most aggressive of the bunch, launched herself at him the same night in the foyer of the ranch house. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him as her father came down the stairs.

  Nate barely escaped with his life.

  But his ordeal with the Adams sisters was behind him, and he wanted to keep it that way. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a forward female trying to rope him into matrimony. He would marry when he was good and ready, not to mention settle down.

  Nate reached the post office and leaned against the door a moment before going in. By now his head throbbed something awful. He unfolded Walton's letter and took another stab at reading it. It wasn't easy, but he managed. After several moments he refolded the missive and stuck it back into a shirt pocket.

  “Texas,” he muttered to himself. “Looks like you found yourself a sweet deal, big brother.” But was he ready to join him?

  “Good Lord!” A woman cried to his left. “What happened to you?”

  Nate stared at her, a bemused look on his face. She pointed to his head and gasped. “Oh, yeah. Sorry ma'am. I…got cut …shaving.”

  The woman shook her head and made a tsk, tsk, tsk, sound. “You'd best get that taken care of. What were you doing? Trying to shave your head with an ax?”

  “A piece of wood, actually,” Nate said drily. “Bad barber.” He turned and headed for the postmaster.

  “Yes?” said a wiry little man behind the counter. He peered at Nate over his spectacles and gasped louder than the woman. “Egad! You’re bleeding!”

  “I’ve been informed. Do you have any other mail for me? The name’s Nate Dalton.” It would be like Sam to bring only the one letter and leave everything else. The postmaster grimaced one more time before he turned to search for any remaining mail.

  Nate and the other drovers only came to Fountain, Colorado once every couple of months. As it was more frequent than other places he'd been cow punching, it was as good a place as any to have his mail sent.

  “No sir, Mr. Dalton,” the postmaster announced as he turned around. “Nothing else here. Lucky you came into town when you did, that letter arrived only a week ago.”

  “Much obliged,” said Nate as he turned and headed for the door. As he stepped onto the boardwalk a thought struck. After he sold his employer’s stock, collected the money, and headed back, he wouldn't have another chance to answer Walton's letter until the next time they brought in more cattle.

  He stared at the dirt in the street in indecision. He could still taste the same dirt in his mouth. He let out a weary sigh, took his brother's letter out of his pocket, and stared at it a moment.

  “Texas …” he mused. Walt wanted to settle down, start an empire, not to mention a family. Was he ready to do that?

  A man crossing the street caught Nate’s eye. The man was heading toward the post office. Nate reached out and stopped him before he could go inside. “Hey mister, where's the doctor in this town?”

  “Go down to the end of the street, turn left, and you'll find him. I think he just got back from the Meyers’ ranch.” He looked at Nate and let out a low whistle. “I think you’d best hurry and have him tend ya.” The man shuddered, pulled out of Nate’s hold, and went into the post office.

  Nate watched him go, before he looked in the direction he'd indicated. As he started off, he wondered if Bart answered their brother yet. Would he be ready to settle down? Of the three, Bart had the worst case of itchy feet.

  Nate could wander as well as the next, but he at least stuck in one place for a while before moving on. Sometimes he’d stay in one spot a couple of years. Bart was lucky to stay in one place a couple of months. But in his gut, Nate knew Bart had answered their brother’s call.

  He reached the doctor’s house, stuffed Walt’s letter into his pocket again, and went inside.

  “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” An elderly man cried when he saw him. “What happened to you?”

  “Never mind, are you the doctor?” asked Nate. “I need me a piece of paper and something to write with. I got a letter here needs answering.”

  “Letter? I’d say let it wait, son. That gash on your forehead needs tendin’. Let me get a few things and I’ll fix ya right up.”

  “My letter needs tending more than I do.”

  “What’s so important it can’t wait until after I fix your wound?”

  Nate gave him a broad smile. “Cause I gotta let my big brother know I’m gonna settle in Texas!”

  The doctor gawked at him, shook his head, and went to fetch him paper, pen, and ink.

  Dear Walt,

  Count me in.

  Nate

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Walton worked hard to build a small house while he waited for his brothers’ replies. Twice a week he would ride into town for fresh supplies and see if there were any new letters.

  Finally, more than a month after he'd mailed his letters there was one from Bart. Walton read it right there in the store and smiled. One of his brothers would be there any day, and they'd start building their empire. The Daltons were going make their mark on Texas.

  It took another week before he received a later from Nate. He was coming, too. All of the brothers would soon be together.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  By the middle of August, they had constructed three small cabins in the middle of the property, and they had a growing herd of cattle. Walton had noticed an advertisement in the local paper for mail order brides. He knew Bart had no intention of marrying, and Nate wanted to wait until the ranch was more stable, but they were younger than him, afte
r all. By the time their brides arrived, they'd understand his need to have a family.

  After their supper of beans and beans that evening, Walton's brothers went home and left him alone as they did every night. He sat at his small table and wrote a letter.

  Dear Miss Miller,

  My brothers and I have a large ranch about an hour out of Wiggieville, Texas. We've built three houses here and have the start of a good herd of cattle. That means we're ready to marry. We're identical triplets, so we're all about six foot with brown hair and brown eyes. We're strong men and perfectly capable of providing for brides and any little ones that may come along.

  We're twenty-seven, and would really like women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. Looks aren't terribly important, but they need to be willing to work hard and cook well. We're all sick of eating our own cooking.

  I look forward to your response.

  Sincerely,

  Walton, Nate and Bart Dalton

  Walton folded the letter and set it aside. He'd mail it when he went to town for supplies the next morning. Soon, they'd have women doing their cooking and cleaning. Not to mention keeping them warm at night. Walton smiled. He liked the idea of a little lady to keep him warm at night more than he was willing to express.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  THE SISTERS

  Gwen Blue hurried through the dark streets of Beckham. Why had Gertie wanted to meet her so late at night? She was going to be married to Stanley in just a couple of weeks, so she wasn't certain why the woman would want to meet her most bitter enemy at all, but she'd go. The letter had said something about mending fences, which sounded good to Gwen after a lifetime of hateful rivalry.

  When she arrived at the schoolhouse where they had once been classmates, she looked around. She'd always loved this playground, but it seemed different at night. It was scary.

  Stanley stepped around the schoolhouse and walked to her. "Oh, Gwen, I'm so glad you've come!"

  Gwen looked at her old suitor with surprise. “What are you doing here?" Stanley stepped closer to her, and Gwen took a step back. “I was supposed to be meeting Gertie.”

  Stanley reached out and touched her cheek. “I wrote that letter, Gwen. I can't marry Gertie when I'm still in love with you. I never should have broken off our courtship. Will you forgive me and give me another chance?"

  Gwen stared at him in disbelief before finally shaking her head. "First, let's get one thing straight. You did not break off our courtship. I did. I broke it off when I saw you looking at Gertie’s bosom after church one day. Second, you brought me here under false pretenses? No, I will not forgive you. No, I will not take you back. You need to marry Gertie like you promised. If you don't, everyone will always know what a cad you are. Don't contact me again."

  Gwen was practically shaking with anger as she spun on her heel to go back home. She'd thought she and Gertie would be able to put their past behind them. No, it was just Stanley being selfish once again.

  Stanley put his hand on Gwen's shoulder and spun her back around. "You know you still love me!"

  He crushed his lips to hers, and she stomped on his foot to get him to release her. How had she ever thought she loved this man? "Let go of me, you fool!" She tore away from him and rushed away. She never should have come.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Two days later at church, Gwen sat with her sisters, Bonnie and Libby, wondering why the ladies of the church refused to speak to her on her way to the pew. Some even moved their dresses out of the way to keep them from touching her. She felt like a pariah, and she didn't even know what she'd done to be treated that way.

  Bonnie and Libby had received the same treatment for the most part, but no one had avoided getting touched by them. Gwen had always been the most popular girl in their entire congregation, with men flocking around her, but that had changed as well. Even her current sweetheart, Norbert Rumfield, had refused to speak to her. She didn't know what people thought she'd done, but she certainly hadn't. Whatever it was.

  Their mother took her seat on the other side of Bonnie, and leaned over glaring at Gwen. "Why do all my friends think you're pregnant?"

  Gwen stared back at her mother, her mind spinning. Pregnant? Yes, she'd probably kissed a few more boys than she should have over the years, but she'd never even let one of them touch her breast. No, she wasn't pregnant. Who would say that?

  "I have no idea, Mama. I'm not. I swear!”

  Bonnie and Libby snickered. They loved it when Gwen was in trouble. She always shamed them because she was always kissing all the boys. There weren't enough men in town when Gwen was around.

  Sarah Blue looked back and forth between her oldest and youngest daughters. "What are you two laughing about? Rumors also say the two of you were seen kissing the same boy! Where did I go wrong?"

  Bonnie and Libby exchanged glances. "Never!" Bonnie exclaimed. "I've never even kissed one man, Mama."

  Libby shook her head. "Gwen always beats us to the boys. We never get a chance to kiss them."

  Gwen glared at Libby. "I can't believe you just said that! I hate you!" She stood up and ran out of the church. People were saying mean horrible things about her, and she wasn't about to put up with it.

  When she got outside, she wiped away her tears. Leaning against the back of the church, she sighed. Why were people always willing to believe bad things about her? No, she wasn't an angel and never pretended to be. But she wasn't a whore, and that's what people were making her out to be, and it just wasn't fair.

  She did just as much volunteer work as the next woman and worked hard to make certain she always looked her best. It wasn't like she was shallow, she just felt like the orphans in town deserved to see a pretty woman and not one with her hair all down around her shoulders looking scraggly.

  She sat there for a minute before she realized her nemesis from her schooldays, Gertie Landry, was glaring at her. "I heard you kissed my beau in the park late one night this week,” she sneered. “He's still marrying me, though."

  Gwen looked at Gertie. Had she started the rumors? "I didn't kiss him. He forced a kiss on me. I told him I'm not interested in renewing our relationship. That's what he wants, you know. He wants me to take him back so he won't have to marry you."

  Gwen knew her words were mean, but there were times when she just couldn't hold back, and just looking at Gertie had made her angry for years. Ever since the other girl had pushed her in the mud when she was on her way to her first church social. She hadn't been able to clean up enough, and Gertie had danced with her beau. Spiteful girl.

  Gertie walked closer. "That's not true! He told me what happened. You saw him and ran to him in the park, demanding he break off our engagement, and then you flung your arms around his neck and kissed him. You're a tramp, Gwen Blue!"

  "Did you start the rumors about me being pregnant?" Gwen stood up and faced the other girl.

  "Now you won't be able to entice all the men you meet." Gertie smirked at Gwen.

  "People are going to know you lied."

  "By then I'll be happily married. Besides, I'll tell them you lost the baby. No big deal."

  Gwen felt a growl rising in her throat. Never in her life had she wanted to hit anyone as much as she wanted to hit Gertie at that moment. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but she just couldn't help herself. She balled up her fist, just like her brothers had taught her, and she punched Gertie right in the eye.

  Gertie let out a loud wail, her hand covering her eye. Gwen stood there, knowing people would come to see what the ruckus was about. She planned to tell everyone right there and then that she had done nothing wrong.

  When Mr. Blue saw Gwen standing over Gertie who was sprawled in the dirt, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed her by her ear and pulled her home. Her mother and sisters had come out of the church to see what happened and they followed along behind them. Their three brothers would have to represent the family in church that morning.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When they got back t
o the house, their mother sat them all down in the parlor. "I want to know what on earth is going on with you! All of you!"

  Gwen crossed her arms over her chest. "Gertie admitted that she started the rumors. I know it's not ladylike to hit someone, but sometimes I think that justice is more important than being ladylike."

  Mrs. Blue looked at Gwen and shook her head. "I have to disagree, if you're hitting someone on church grounds during Sunday morning service! What were you thinking?"

  Mr. Blue glared at his wife. "She's obviously thinking that you're going to let her get away with whatever she does like you always have. You have turned all three girls into little snobs. Gwen runs around with a different man every other week. We heard she was in trouble, and we both believed it! That tells me there's a problem right there. No more. I'm going to find husbands for all three of them."

  Gwen jumped out of her chair. She'd always been the most vocal of the three. "I won't do it! You can't make me marry someone I don't want to marry! What are you going to do? Lock me in my room?"

  Mr. Blue's face turned red with anger. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. You have been out of control for too long. From now on you will take all of your meals in your room. You may come out to use the water closet, but only if your mother or I accompany you." He grabbed her by her upper arm and dragged her up the stairs to her small room.

  Gwen threw herself on her bed and sobbed loudly, knowing her mother would never hold out against her sobs. She never had, and she never would.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Libby and Bonnie sat in the parlor with their mother listening to Gwen's wails. "Mama, you can't really let Papa lock Gwen up until she marries,” insisted Libby. “Can you?"

  Mrs. Blue shrugged. "I have no control over him. He's my husband. I was taught to honor and obey my parents and my husband. I should have taught you three girls to do the same thing." She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll have to let your papa do whatever he thinks is right this time."

  Libby and Bonnie exchanged a look. "Would it be all right if we went in to talk to her?" Bonnie asked. She had an idea, one that she'd been formulating for a while, and she needed to talk to her sisters about it.