The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1)

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T
he Chef’s Mail
-Order Bride is a work of fiction. Characters and events in this novel are the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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S
adie wiped
the flour from her hands onto her apron as she took one last, satisfied glance at the pastry case, filled to the brim with bread, pies and other baked confections, ready for the day’s customers. She nodded her head to Clara, her friend and assistant, and received a warm smile in return.

“Ready for another day?” Clara said, putting the final touches on a cake that had been ordered for a wedding.

Closing her eyes to savor the aroma of cinnamon, sugar and spices hovering in the air, Sadie sighed with satisfaction at a job well done. The bittersweet moment was almost more than she could bear.

It was almost time to open the bakery for the last time, and she could see customers lining up already outside the plate glass window on one of Chicago’s busiest main streets, right by the financial district.

Her parents had opened the bakery when she was young girl. She’d learned at their knees how to make a perfect pie crust, knead dough for just the right texture of bread. They’d taught her how to produce biscuits by the dozen that melted in the mouths of their customers, a sure-fire guarantee that they’d come back for more. And they did—in droves.

“We’d better open soon or the mob might get ugly,” Clara said as she eyed the door, placing the wedding cake in the icebox for the bride to pick up later. “The last day for all of them to have your wonderful pastries and they’re lined up around the block.”

Sadie noticed that Clara brushed at her cheek before she’d picked up the cake. There had been plenty of tears this past month, and Sadie took in a deep breath to steady herself for the end of what she’d always known.

“Not just yet, Clara.” Sadie peered over her shoulder as she re-arranged the pastries in the case one last time. She jumped at a rap on the door and she let out a little yelp as she quickly stood, bumping her head on the top of the pie case.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said as she rubbed her head over the cap she wore covering her blonde curls. She’d learned long ago to tie her hair back so that no strays were found in her pastries—and felt a pang of embarrassment at the memory that had made the cap part of her daily attire.

She peeked at the door, still not quite ready to open for business, and looked at the clock that confirmed that it was still ten minutes until opening time. She looked back at the door and recognized Finn, the son of the butcher who ran the shop next door. He shifted from foot to foot, his eyes wide and face flushed.

Sadie hurried to the door, again wiping her hands on her blue apron. She quickly opened the door, grabbing Finn’s wrist and pulling him inside and closing the door behind him to irritated groans. She looked at him curiously as he caught his breath.

Finn quickly took off his cap and thrust his hand out toward Sadie. “I ran all the way, Miss Sadie. Da asked me to pick up a shipment at the post office, and Miss Callaway said it was real important that you get this right soon. I ran the whole way,” he said, his gulps for air starting to even out.

Sadie looked down at the letter he held out toward her, wondering who it was from and what could possibly be so urgent. She rarely received letters. Everyone she knew—well, almost everyone—was here in Chicago and could just visit.

Her stomach dropped as she took the letter and turned it over in her hands, glancing past the word “Urgent” written on it to see the return address.

The last urgent letter she’d received had not been good news. A month after her parents had died, Finn had done the same thing—run all the way from the post office with a similar envelope, marked urgent.
Bank of Chicago
, she’d read at the time and her memory reached back to the banker she’d met with over a month ago.

Her parents had died in an accident and hadn’t prepared a will, leaving her and her twin sister, Suzanne, with the business. Suzanne had left long ago for southern Arizona Territory, near Tombstone, with her new husband, James, and Sadie had been running the bakery on her own for quite a while.

But when her parents died, she’d also found out that they hadn’t been as good at managing finances as they had been at baking, and the mortgage was way past due.

Her heart clenched as she remembered that conversation. Mr. Jamison, his black mustache curled and shiny with something that smelled of beeswax, had made her nervous from the moment she’d shaken his limp, sweaty hand.

Her father had always told her that you could tell a lot about a person by their handshake, and she didn’t like this man already.

“Hello, Miss Walker,” he’d said, the ends of his mustache rising with his smile—if you could call it a smile. It seemed to her more like a sneer.

“Hello, Mr. Jamison. Thank you for meeting with me,” she said, wishing her stomach would stop doing somersaults.

“Oh, you’re very welcome. I had intended to set up a meeting myself, due to the urgent nature of your situation.”

Her eyebrows rose, as she couldn’t fathom what he meant. Her parents had just died, and she spent all her time baking with her skeleton staff.

“Urgent,” she said quietly.

“Yes, urgent. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the bank holds the mortgage on your bakery. .”

She sighed, wishing her sister Suzanne was with her. She had a better sense for business. Sadie just liked to bake.

“I wasn’t aware of that, Mr. Jamison.”

“Well, now you know,” he said as he crossed over to sit behind the big, mahogany desk in his office.

He was a short man, and the leather chair he plopped in was so big, she thought he looked like a schoolboy at his father’s desk. She wondered if his feet could reach the ground, and suppressed a smile.

He cleared his throat and continued. “However, it is with great regret that I inform you the bank has decided to foreclose on the mortgage for your bakery.”

Sadie sat, speechless, her jaw dropping. She remembered herself, closed her mouth and stood up. “Mr. Jamison, I don’t understand this. Why?”

“Well, your parents are quite in arrears, and it is well within our right to do so. Even though the bakery is doing well, you would have a very difficult time making up the past due monies.”

“Can you give me an opportunity to try, Mr. Jamison?” she asked, her heart in her throat as her world as she knew it crumbled around her.

“I hardly think that a young, single woman in her early twenties would be qualified to do that, my dear, and the bank has an offer on the building in cash that is double what your loan is. Enough time has lapsed that it is well within our right to call in the mortgage. And I have no doubt you cannot raise enough to pay it.”

Her head reeled, and her breath quickened. She reached into her bag and retrieved her white leather gloves, hoping that she could stop her hands from trembling as she yanked them on, one after the other.

Hoping her voice wasn’t trembling as well, she asked, “How long do I have?”

“A month,” he’d said.

She shook her head, clearing the thought from her mind and turning her attention back to the envelope.

Mr. James Davis, Tombstone, Arizona Territory,
she read on the envelope and thought immediately of her sister, Suzanne, who had left Chicago with her husband to the wild frontier in Arizona Territory several years before. They had had big dreams of opening a bakery and restaurant to serve all the pioneers and miners who were streaming west to find their fortunes.

She and her parents had missed them greatly, but had been supportive of the dream and had intended to visit—just as soon as they could break away from their own busy bakery. They’d planned to make a trip out right after the Christmas season to see her nieces, who would be about four by now. Time had flown.

The last communication they’d gotten had been from Suzanne a few months prior. James had never written before, only Suzanne, full of excited news about their new business—which had actually turned out to be a mercantile—new family and new home. Things had been going well, she’d said, so Sadie could only imagine what was urgent enough to send Finn running at top speed.

She glanced at Clara, whose curious expression and raised eyebrows encouraged her to rip open the envelope to put them all out of their misery.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves—maybe Suzanne was pregnant again and they would be celebrating.

Finn and Clara stood, silent, as Sadie skimmed the letter, but Clara rushed to her side as the paper slid from Sadie’s hand onto the floor and she sat back hard in her chair, her eyes welling with tears.

“What is it, Sadie,” Clara said as she took Sadie’s hand.

Slowly, Sadie turned to her dear, long-time friend who had known Suzanne almost as well as she had. Her heart flooded with relief as she said, “It’s from Suzanne. She has a husband for me. ”

S
adie slumped to the floor
, her face in her hands. Clara rushed to her side, wrapping her arm around Sadie’s shoulders.

“What do you mean, Sadie? What husband?” she said, her voice filled with concern.

Sadie looked from Clara to Finn, whose ears had turned red. “A husband, Miss Sadie?”

“It appears that a friend of Suzanne’s husband, James, is in dire need of a wife, and there is no one suitable where they live in Arizona.” She sighed as she glanced over the letter once more.

“I’ve heard about that, on the western frontier. Not enough women, and men even put ads in newspapers for wives.” Clara wrung her hands as she stared at Sadie. “But Sadie, you live here. You can’t go that far away.”

“Clara, you have been very fortunate that your brother and his wife have taken you in. I don’t have anything like that. Since my parents died and Suzanne moved, I’ve been on my own.”

Sadie stood with the help of a pull from Clara. She smoothed her apron again and tucked a stray lock of her long, blonde hair back up into her cap, securing it with a hair pin.

“You all have known that this is the last day the bakery will be open, and I have not thought about what I’m going to do. After today, I will have no job and, shortly, nowhere to live.”

Clara wiped away a tear as Finn said, “Miss Sadie, you can’t go.”

Turning around at Finn’s quiet voice, Sadie placed her hands on his now-red cheeks. She knew he was fond of her, and she’d been slipping him pastries since he was old enough to walk.

“Finn, I know it’s a long way away, but what option do I have?”

“You can live with us,” Clara blurted. “I know my brother will say yes.”

Sadie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “That is very kind of you, Clara. You and Robert have always been like family to me. But, I really am on my own now, and if James and Suzanne think it’s a good idea, maybe it is.”

“Well, who is this person, anyway,” Finn said, squaring his ten-year-old shoulders.

Sadie’s eyes glistened as she looked from him to Clara. “Suzanne says that he has been a friend of James’s for a long time. That he’s kind and decent, and even handsome.”

Clara’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Handsome, she said? He must be, because James is handsome so she would know.”

A faint smile touched Sadie’s lips as she continued. “They said that there was no one suitable where they live, near Tombstone, and that James’s friend needs a wife to open a restaurant. So with my current circumstances and my experience, they thought of me. Plus Suzanne said she would adore having me nearby, and she knows I miss her, too. “

“A restaurant? What kind of restaurant?” Clara asked, her eyes wide. “Do they even
have
restaurants out there in the desert?”

Sadie laughed and walked behind the pastry case. “Suzanne has said before that Arizona isn’t like what people say it is. She said it’s greener and prettier and has the most beautiful sunsets in the world.”

“And cactus and wild horses and snakes,” Finn added, his brows furrowing.

“I’ve heard they even eat snakes,” Clara said with a shudder.

Sadie shook her head and looked at both of them over the counter. She thought of the very small savings she’d managed to put away in this past month and about what it would be like to leave everything she knew, travel to a place she’d never seen and marry a man she’d never met.

She then looked out the window to the waiting throng of people who were now quite impatient. Her clear, blue eyes fluttered as she looked back to Finn and Clara.

“I’ve made up my mind. It’s time for an adventure, I suppose, and I think maybe I could help open a restaurant. It’s what I love to do.”

Clara sighed and Finn pushed his cap back on his head. He turned to Sadie and said in a firm voice, “Miss Sadie, if you ever need any help, you know where to find me.”

Clara’s eyebrows rose and a smile appeared. “Well, look at that. A regular knight in shining armor, Sadie. Nothing to worry about now,” she said. “You always were one to try something new, and now you have back-up.”

Sadie laughed and said, “Definitely nothing to worry about now. And since today is our last day, I decided something else as well,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You can open the door, Finn. I don’t want a mad rush, so don’t tell anyone, but everything in the bakery is free today. Let’s go out with style.”

Clara laughed as she rushed behind the pastry case and squeezed Sadie’s hand as the hungry customers rushed in the door. Sadie’s heart swelled and memories flooded her as she turned to the first customer and said, “What can I get for you today, Mrs. Brown?”