Historical Cowboy Romance Two Book Box Set - Mail Order Brides (3 page)

Tessa saw the wisdom in that. “I
understand.”

“Follow me, please,” J.D. said and rose from
his chair.

He led her to a large conference room with a
long table and many chairs.

“You will have plenty of room and privacy in
here to look through them at your leisure,” he informed her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Brooks said and left her to
it. As he went back to his desk, he wondered why such a beautiful,
refined lady was considering becoming a mail-order bride. From her
elegant clothing and impeccable hair style, Tessa was obviously a
woman high in society.

Tessa sat at the table and opened the file.
There were many ads in there and she began to read them. She
giggled over some of them because they were so amusing. Some were
from men who were very strict about wanting a very domestic wife.
Others were very sweet, almost too sweet, and she put those aside
as well.

After an hour, she’d narrowed it down to five
and then three. Finally, she ended up with the one that struck a
chord within her. It read:

Lonely widower rancher with two children
seeks lovely lady who is kind, intelligent, and strong. Must like
children and should be able to do some cooking. I’m a hard worker
and a good provider and also like to have fun.

The name listed was Dean Samuels from Dawson
County, Montana. She felt sympathetic toward the gentleman because
he had lost his wife and was trying to be a father and earn a
living at the same time. After putting all of the rest of the
advertisements back in the folder, Tessa went back out to the front
office.

J.D. looked up from some paperwork and
smiled. “How’d we make out?”

“I would like to write to this gentleman,”
she said and handed him the ad.

He read it and smiled. “Ah, yes. This one is
rather popular,” he lied. “Let me write down the information for
you. The letters will be private. I would ask that you be able to
make up your mind within three months as we don’t want these men
waiting for women who never come.”

Tessa was surprised. “There are other women
writing to this rancher?”

J.D. nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s only fair.” He
had no qualms about his dishonesty. He had to make a living, after
all.

“What if they’ve already made up their mind?”
Tessa said.

“Don’t fret, my dear. Once a decision has
been made, you must come to inform me. There is a contract you must
sign stating just that. We require a two hundred dollars service
fee. If you should change your mind about contacting this gentleman
further and do not want to try any others, I would refund half of
your money.”

Hope seeped its way back into her breast. “I
see. You said two hundred dollars?”

“Yes. Will that be a problem?” J.D.
asked.

Tessa calculated her funds. “No, it won’t,”
she said and opened her reticule and counted out the money. “Now,
about that contract,” she said.

Chapter Three

Sweat trickled down Dean’s back as he
finished mending the last section of fence. Evening was closing in
and he had wanted to get the work done before dark. It made him
feel good to know that he had made it. He straightened up and
stretched his cramped back. Replacing rotten fence posts and
stringing new wire was not easy and it was one of the jobs he hated
most.

But, like always, Dean just got on with the
job and got it done despite how he felt. He was good at pushing his
feelings down deep. It made things simpler and it was less time
consuming. He didn’t have enough time as it was because he had two
kids to rise and a ranch to run. The work was never ending but he
didn’t complain. It could be worse.

He threw the hammer he’d been using into his
tool box and began walking back through the field to the barn It
was early May but the spring was coming on fast. Dean hoped that
didn’t mean there would be a drought that summer. Lord knew he
needed a bumper crop this year because last year had barely kept
them going through the winter.

As he walked, Dean looked at the lush, green
grass under his boots and was thankful his cattle had good grazing
to start the summer out with. They were a bit thin and he wanted to
get them fattened up. No one wanted to buy a skinny steer. He
needed his steers to go for a good price to make up for last
year.

“Pa! Pa!” he heard his son, Jackson,
holler.

Dean looked up and saw his seven year old boy
running at him pell-mell. His wheat-blond hair flew everywhere as
he ran. Jasper, one of their border collies, ran beside him,
barking and jumping at Jack.

“Look! Uncle Seth just brought it!” Jack told
him and thrust the letter at him.

Dean took the mail from Jack. The envelope
was ragged and dirty on the edges, evidence of how many times it
had changed hands to get to him. He looked at the return
address.

“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania? I don’t know
anyone in Pittsburgh, let alone Pennsylvania,” he mused.

Jack bounced up and down next to him. “Is
that what it says, Pa? Pittsburgh? Can I see?”

Dean smiled at Jack. “Yeah, sure. See right
there.” He pointed it out to Jack. “I’ll get you to learn it and
write it tonight, okay?”

Jack nodded. “I’m hungry. When ya gonna read
it?”

Dean loved the way his son was able to focus
on two things at once. His son had a busy mind and he was very
intelligent for his age. He got that from his mother, rest her
soul.

“You’re hungry? I’m not surprised. You’re
always hungry. What are you making for dinner?” Dean asked.

That stopped Jack. “Me? I don’t know how to
make anything except sandwiches and we had that for lunch. Can’t we
have steak?”

Dean grunted. “Steak? What do you wanna have
steak for? It’s not like you like it or anything.”

“Pa!” Jack said with a laugh. “You’re teasing
me. C’mon, let’s go get dinner,” he said and tugged at Dean’s arm.
“I’ll carry the toolbox. You’re probably tired from all that hard
work you did.”

“Okay.” Dean agreed and gave the box to his
son.

It was heavy and it fell to the ground at
first but then Jack picked it up in both hands and began walking
with it. He didn’t complain about the weight, but Dean could tell
it was tough going. About halfway to the barn, Dean said, “Hey,
Jack. You go on ahead and get cleaned up and tell Sadie to get that
steak out of the cold cellar and get it on the stove. I’ll take the
tool box. Where’s Uncle Seth now?”

“Went in the barn!” Jack shouted. He dropped
the tool box and ran off to the house.

Dean smiled as he watched Jack go. He picked
up the tool box and proceeded to the barn. Horses whinnied as they
heard him approach. He stopped by each stall, patting and stroking
sleek coats. His brother, Seth, came out of the tack room.

“I see you got your letter,” he
commented.

Dean nodded. “Jack was all wound up about it.
I guess it’s because we don’t get a whole lot of mail.”

“Who’s in Pittsburgh?” Seth asked. His blue
eyes held curiosity.

“I have no clue,” Dean answered.

“Are you going to read it now?”

Dean frowned at his older brother. “You’re as
bad as Jack. No. I’m going to read it after supper.”

“How is it you have so much patience?” Seth
said shaking his head.

Dean retorted, “And how is it you have so
little?”

Seth smiled. “Because you’re like Ma and I’m
like Pa, remember?” It was an old joke between them.

“How could I not? You staying to dinner?”

“I better get
some
reward for bringing
that letter here,” Seth said.

“Well, c’mon, then. I’m hungry.”

Sadie was her mother, Sarah, out and out,
Dean reflected again as he watched his daughter set the table. Her
light brown hair was pulled back in a long braid with little wisps
flying about. Her coffee-brown eyes looked to and fro as she went
about her work. At eleven, Dean saw glimpses of the beautiful woman
she would become. He thought about the boys who would come sniffing
around in a few years and his stomach clenched at the thought.

Sadie looked up and saw his expression. “Did
I do something wrong?”

“What? No, sweat pea. I was just thinkin’ how
pretty you are. Just like your Ma. I’m gonna have to beat off all
the boys with a stick before too long,” he replied.

“Pa, do I really look like her?” Sadie
said.

Dean nodded. “You sure do. Why do you think I
tell you that? Look in the mirror and you’ll see your ma.”

Sadie’s smile of pride touched Dean’s heart
and his throat constricted with emotion.

“Is it ready yet?” Jack said.

Dean checked the meat and saw that it was
done. “Yep. Let’s eat.”

Once dinner was cleaned up and the children
sent to bed, Dean sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the
parlor. The ranch house was one of the larger ones in the area
because of several additions that had been made over the years. As
the eldest son, Seth had originally inherited the house when their
parents had passed on, but he’d given it to Dean because he’d
gotten married. Seth had always been a talented cattle driver and
preferred to be on the trail. Dean would rather work the ranch than
drive the herds so it worked out for both of them. Seth still
retained his share in the ranch, but didn’t like being tied down,
which was why he’d never married.

Their parents, Ralph and Catherine Samuels,
had built the house after they’d settled the land back in 1839,
before that area of Montana was sectioned off into Dawson Country.
Their house had been four rooms at that time, consisting of a
kitchen, front room, and two bedrooms. It had been a lot of hard
work, but their parents were determined to make a nice home and
build a stable business to pass down to their children.

Seth had come along first, only six months
after the house and barn had been finished. Back then, the barn had
only been big enough for four heads of cattle; a bull and three
cows. That was how their ranch had started. Another year passed and
soon, Dean was born. When the boys were five and six, Ralph decided
they needed more room because Catherine was again pregnant.

Another bedroom was added and the kitchen
enlarged. Ralph’s father died not long after and his mother, Edna,
came to live with them. That’s when they’d decided to add a second
floor. There were three rooms upstairs; two large bedrooms and a
wash room with a dry sink and chamber pot. They still had an
outhouse, which they used most of the time except overnight and
during the most bitter cold winter weather.

Dean and Sarah had lived with his parents
until they’d passed away and then the young couple had taken over
the house. Seth preferred to use one of the bunk houses when he was
home, saying he liked the privacy and figured that Dean and Sarah
didn’t want him blundering in late at night if he’d been drinking
and such.

Marcus, their younger brother, had bought a
place a few miles away four years ago. He also preferred privacy,
not because he didn’t love his family but because he and Seth
shared a common love of freedom. Not to mention that Marcus highly
prized books and learning. His house held more books than
furniture. When he lived in Dean and Sarah’s house, he had run out
of room for them all.

Dean looked around the parlor, which he and
Seth had enlarged. Both he and Sarah’s chairs were nicely
upholstered and thickly padded. Sarah’s was a rocker. He’d
surprised her with them right before Sadie had come along, knowing
she’d appreciate somewhere comfortable to rock their baby.

He remembered how thrilled she’d been and the
joy that had lit up her face as she sat in the chair. Her belly had
been wonderfully swollen with their child and Dean couldn’t have
been happier. The chairs both had matching ottomans. Dean had
traded a high quality heifer for the pieces and had never regretted
it. Turning his head, he gazed at the sofa and smiled. It was
another purchase with which he’d surprised Sarah. When she’d gotten
farther along with Jack, she’d been more tired than with Sadie and
so he’d gotten it so that she could lie down when she needed to
rest.

He was equally happy when both children were
born and loved having one of each. Sarah was a wonderful mother and
took excellent care of her family. A lump formed in his throat as
he remembered when Sarah had told him she was pregnant for a third
time. He’d grabbed her and twirled her slowly, just as thrilled as
he had been when she’d told him about Sadie and Jack. He remembered
how excited Sadie and Jack had been, too.

It wasn’t to be, however. Sarah had gone into
labor too early into the pregnancy. The neighbor woman at the time,
Lydia, had done everything she could, but Sarah had hemorrhaged and
both mother and baby perished.

Crushing grief had followed, and if it hadn’t
been for Lydia and her husband, Charlie, he might have gone crazy
from it. Both had been quick to make him see that he had two young
children who needed him and he owed it to them to be strong. It
wasn’t that he shouldn’t mourn, but he had to keep it together for
their sakes. Lydia told him that Sarah would have expected that
from him, and she’d been right.

Seth and Marcus had been on a drive at the
time and he’d had only Lydia and Charlie to fall back on. Lydia had
taught him some cooking, and Charlie had helped with repair work
and kept Dean moving each day. Dean had buried his pain in work and
taken comfort in his children. The last three years had been
difficult, but not without joy.

Turning his mind away from all that, he
looked down at the letter in his lap and wondered who it was from.
He slit the envelope with a pocketknife and pulled out the letter.
He detected a faint scent of ladies’ perfume.

Unfolding the letter, he read:

Dear Mr. Samuels,

I am responding to the advertisement placed
with the Brooks Agency of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I found it to
be touching and straightforward, which I appreciated very much. As
I understand it, you are looking for a wife and mother-figure for
your children.