FORGOTTEN MAIL-ORDER BRIDE
BY
MARGARET TANNER
Copyright © 2020 Margaret Tanner
Thank you for purchasing this book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author and publisher. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoy this book, then please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.
This story is a work of fiction, and to enhance the story, some literary license has been taken regarding setting. All characters are a figment of the author’s imagination.
Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my family, and my author friend, Cheryl Wright, for her help and support.
A huge thank you to all my lovely readers.
Cover Artist: Lisa Miller
Chapter One
Dry Springs, Colorado 1880
Rowan Carstairs stood next to his cousin, Sheriff Bob Tait, as the coffin was lowered into the ground. At ninety-six years of age, Great Aunt Gertie had lived a long and interesting life. Memories of the childhood holidays they had spent with her in the tumbledown old house on the edge of town resurfaced. He and Bob had seen past the peeling paint work and broken boards to something exciting and ripe for exploration.
“I’m sorry to see the old gal go,” Bob said.
“Yeah, me too. I always thought she was invincible.”
Except for the preacher and the undertaker, they were the only mourners as she had outlived all her friends and relatives. “Have you got time to have a bite to eat at the diner?”
“Well, okay.” Rowan was anxious to return to the ranch, which was a two-day ride away, but he had not seen his cousin for about twelve months. They were both busy with their lives and the almost fifty miles separating them proved to be a barrier, although they did correspond now and again.
As boys they had been closer than most brothers, even though they had lived miles apart. The meeting place was always Aunt Gertie’s where they spent a lot of their boyhood. She might have been an old maid and crazy in the head like some of locals used to say, but he preferred to think of her as eccentric.
“I’ll have to be off as soon as we’ve eaten. It’s busy at the ranch. George, my boss, hasn’t been too good, his lungs are acting up. The son, Edward, is not much use. He’s lived in the city for too long, I reckon. I’ve been trying to show him how the ranch works for weeks, but he’s as thick as molasses in winter, and he’s married to some useless hot-house flower from Boston.”
Bob laughed. “You always did have a way with words, Rowan.”
They sauntered over to their horses and rode to the diner in Dry Springs.
“The town hasn’t changed much,” Bob mused as he picked up a menu and glanced at it.
“Give it another couple of years and I reckon it will be a ghost town. How’s the job going? Locking up many bad varmints?”
“A few. I’m going to order a nice juicy beef steak. What about you?”
Rowan put the menu to one side. “The same.” He beckoned the waitress over. “Two beef steaks with gravy, potato mash and greens, and two black coffees, please.”
“It won’t be long,” she said.
“Thank you.” Bob grinned. “Got yourself a gal to occupy that cabin you built on the ranch?”
“Not yet. It’s hard to meet a suitable gal, especially when I’m so busy, but I’m thirty-three now, so I’d like to settle down and raise a family.”
“You did get George to put something in writing about the cabin being yours?”
“No. We shook hands on the deal. For a man like George his word is his bond.”
“Yeah well, maybe. My job makes me overly suspicious, but I think you should have something in writing is all I’m saying. Anyway, have you ever thought about writing away for a mail-order bride?”
“What!” Rowan spluttered. “I don’t want some hag who has been left on the shelf.”
“They aren’t all hags. Some of them are women in the same situation as you, living where there are no suitable men around. Maybe they’re widowed.”
“Come on. You don’t believe that, unless…” Rowan snapped his fingers and was surprised to see red creep into Bob’s cheeks. “You’re writing to some gal?”
“I am as a matter of fact.”
Rowan laughed. “I never would have believed it. The great Bob Tait having to stoop to such a thing. The gals used to just about fight over you a few years ago.”
The waitress placed their meals before them and Rowan near drooled. He was going to enjoy this.
“Yeah, well things have changed. I saw this gal’s advertisement in the Matrimonial Gazette.”
“Matrimonial Gazette?” Rowan roared with laughter.
“You can sneer all you like, but I’ve met her, and we’ve got feelings for each other. Her name is Lotte and she lives in Wyoming. Her parents came from Holland, if you’re wondering about the name.”
“Sorry, Bob, I shouldn’t sneer. I’m really pleased for you. It’s not for me, though. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take on a gal I hadn’t met. There was a rancher I heard about who married this woman he wrote to, and she murdered him for his money.” He shuddered. “No thanks.”
“Lotte isn’t like that. She’s a fine, respectable gal, and in a few months when my contract is up in Twisted Creek, I’m moving to Wyoming and we’re getting married.”
The statement shocked him for a moment. Bob sounded so happy, he suddenly wondered whether a mail-order bride would work for him. It was the height of hypocrisy after the sneering comments he had just made. He didn’t own the ranch, although his job as foreman of the Crossbow ranch
