The Mistaken Mail Order Bride
Read The Mistaken Mail Order Bride Online
Authors: Ruth Ann Nordin
Tags: #romance, #sex, #gossip, #mail order bride, #historical western romance, #virgin hero, #historical western, #wrong bride, #plain heroine, #wrong groom
Chance at Love Series: Book 2
The
Mistaken
Mail Order Bride
Ruth Ann Nordin
Wedded Bliss Romances, LLC
The Mistaken Mail Order
Bride
- Smashwords Edition
Published by Ruth Ann Nordin at
Smashwords
Copyright © 2016 by Ruth Ann Nordin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
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reserved – used with permission.
Cover Photo images Dreamstime.
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Wedded Bliss Romances, LLC
http://www.ruthannnordin.com
Coming Soon in the Chance at Love
Series
Dedication: To Gail Palmere for sticking with me
through the years and supporting me. Thank you!
Chapter One
Please Note: This book begins right before
chapter 21 in The Convenient Mail Order Bride. (Chapter 21 was when
Benny and Gene went to Abe and Phoebe’s property.)
***
Late June 1878
Colorado
S
heriff Eric Johnson twirled the hat in his hand, ignoring the
way the tie around his neck made him feel as if he was choking. As
much as he wanted to loosen it, he didn’t dare. He had spent a lot
of time getting dressed up in his Sunday best, and he wasn’t about
to ruin his appearance.
He cleared his throat and glanced at the
path shaded with trees. This was it. His mail-order bride was
coming in today, and the stagecoach would stop right in front of
the general store, which was where he was waiting. His heart
pounded so loudly in his chest he was sure the few people loitering
around him could hear it.
He brushed away the strands of dark brown
hair that fell into his eyes. He should have gotten a haircut. With
getting everything ready for his bride, he’d forgotten that small
detail. But he’d shaved, and that was better than nothing. At least
he hoped so. He wanted to look his best. He sighed. He should have
gotten that haircut. Oh well. There was nothing he could do about
it now. He’d just have to hope she didn’t mind it.
The sound of horses coming up the path
brought his attention to the dusty road. The stagecoach rounded the
bend. His heart leapt, and for a moment, he thought it had stopped
beating.
He took a deep breath and released it,
hoping it would help him calm down. The activity, however, was
pointless. He was about to meet the woman he’d be spending the rest
of his life with. She seemed like such a nice person from the
missives he’d read. He could only hope he’d live up to her
expectations.
In front of the general store where Eric
stood, a couple of men gathered around him. Across the street, two
women stopped with their children to watch the stagecoach, and from
the windows in a couple of the buildings, people peered out to see
what kind of woman would be coming to marry him.
He should have expected this. Naturally,
everyone was curious about his mail-order bride. It was hard enough
to meet her in person, but he had to contend with an audience, too.
He set his hat on his head and did his best to ignore them.
“You think she’ll be a looker?” Jerry
Conner, the middle-aged man who was the school’s superintendent,
asked, peering over Eric’s shoulder.
Startled, Eric jerked.
“Leave the poor man alone,” Jerry’s younger
brother, Mike, said. “He’s so anxious you spooked him.”
“He didn’t spook me,” Eric argued.
Mike snorted. “Are you kidding? You nearly
jumped ten feet into the air.”
“He’s right,” Jerry agreed. “None of the
horses ever get as tense as you.”
Eric figured it’d be pointless to argue, so
he said, “Fine. I am nervous. It’s not every day a man meets the
woman he’s going to marry.”
“Nope, it’s not, thank goodness,” Mike
replied.
“Come now, Mike,” Jerry began with a grin,
“you were excited when you fell in love with your wife.”
“That was before I realized what a busybody
she was,” Mike muttered under his breath.
Jerry snickered. “At least you know
everything that happens before the rest of us do.”
“Yes. She’s like a newspaper. She reports
everything to everyone.” Mike looked at Eric. “I hope you get a
woman who knows when to keep quiet.”
“You still sore your wife told everyone
about your rash?” Jerry asked, laughing.
Mike’s chin went up in the air. “That’s all
healed now. It was a temporary condition, which is more than I can
say for your balding head.”
“I’d rather have a balding head than a
rash.”
“The rash was from the new soap your wife
made. What ingredients did she put in it anyway?”
“How should I know? I don’t make soap.”
“Well, whatever she put it in, it was
bad.”
“My kids and I were fine. You’re the only
one with the rash.”
The stagecoach came closer, and Eric turned
to them. “You two got anything better to do than argue?”
“Not really,” Jerry said. Then he glanced at
Mike. “You?”
“Nope,” Mike replied. “Besides, my wife was
insistent I learn more about your bride.” He wiggled his
eyebrows.
Eric groaned. He was afraid of that. “Well,
don’t make her nervous. It’s bad enough the lot of you,” he
gestured to the other ten people who’d gathered along the road to
watch the stagecoach, “are watching. I want you to be on your best
behavior.”
“I don’t believe you, Sheriff,” Mike told
Eric, his expression incredulous. “What do you take us for?
Uncivilized folk? Why, we got a preacher who happens to be in town
today.”
“Right,” Jerry agreed. “If that won’t make
us upstanding citizens, I don’t know what will.”
Eric resisted the urge to grin. If he let
them know he found their antics funny, he’d only be encouraging
them, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, especially when
he was about to meet his bride. It was much better to let them
think he meant business. Maybe then, they’d behave.
The stagecoach came to a stop, and the man
sitting next to the driver let out a cheer and jumped onto the
ground, the dust swirling around his boots. “I didn’t think we’d
ever get here,” he said to no one in particular. He stepped toward
the door but then stopped and glanced at the men who were watching
him. “Which one of you is the groom?”
Eric’s face warmed. “I am.” Then, in case
the man couldn’t tell which of them spoke, he waved.
“Good. Last time I brought in a mail-order
bride to this place, the intended was nowhere in sight.”
Ignoring the chuckles from the men
surrounding him, Eric followed the man to the stagecoach door. No
one needed to go into all the mess Carl Richie had caused poor Abe
Thomas by posting a mail-order bride ad on his behalf. Though, last
time he checked, Abe looked pretty happy with Phoebe. And Phoebe
was attractive. With any luck, Eric would be taking a bride much
like her home with him today.
But as soon as the man opened the door, Eric
saw a woman whose dress was covered in vomit. She was wiping the
brow of a young black child in her arms. If Eric had to guess the
child’s age, he’d say he was seven or eight.
The man stepped aside and waved his hand in
front of his face. “You’d think by now I’d be used to the smell.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, put it over his
mouth, and coughed. “This happens more often than you’d believe,”
he told Eric.
The woman lifted the edge of her hat and
looked up at the man. “My apologies, kind sir,” she said in a
southern accent.
Eric blinked in surprise. Well, this was his
bride, alright. Allie said she came from Tennessee. She’d even
joked he’d know right away she was the right woman when he heard
the slow drawl in her words. But she was a lot different from what
he’d imagined. Too late did he think it might have been wise to ask
her what she looked like. He just assumed she’d be as good looking
as Phoebe.
“Caleb will get better now that the stage
has stopped,” his bride added.
The child—Caleb—moaned and clutched his
stomach.
Eric thought for sure the child was going to
vomit again, but there must not have been anything left in his
stomach since he only heaved.
“I’m going to lose my lunch if I keep
watching this,” Mike whispered from behind Eric. “My wife’s going
to have to meet her if she wants to learn anything else.”
Eric glanced over his shoulder and saw Mike
scampering away from them, his face pale. Eric shook his head. It
was a good thing Mike made tools. He wouldn’t be able to handle
half the things Eric had seen in the past.
Remembering his manners, Eric dug out a
handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed it to her. “Here. You
can use this.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her smile lighting
up her otherwise dull face.
Yes, she was on the plain side. There was
nothing really pretty about her, nor did she have as generous a
bosom as he’d hoped, but there was something sweet in watching her
while she wiped the sweat off the child’s face.
“I’m the man who posted the ad for a
mail-order bride,” Eric introduced.