Prologue

Cody, Wyoming 1899

Lena’s scream could be heard half a mile away as it echoed through the dilapidated old farmhouse. She leapt atop a scarred dining table, which wobbled and groaned beneath her slight weight, eyes locked onto her foe. Then, taking quick aim, she hurled a thick, wooden spoon across the kitchen. It barely missed the giant rat that scrabbled toward the curtained cabinet, seemingly unbothered by her antics.

“That’s it!” she shouted. “We’re getting a cat.”

Several deep breaths later, she climbed down from the table and retrieved the spoon, along with a scraggly broom she’d flung nearly into the next room when the disgusting creature first made an appearance. Like their once cozy home, her poor broom had definitely seen better days. She leaned against it as she glanced around at the empty house. Once full of love and laughter, now it was more like a silent tomb or a crumbling relic, bearing the ugly scars of neglect since the untimely passing of Lena’s parents the year before.

And there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it. Lord knows she’d tried, but money was scarce these days, and the walls of the old farmhouse seemed to sag under the weight of their struggles.

Lena sighed and glanced down at her calloused hands, still sore from the bit of weeding she’d done earlier. She had gotten home late from cleaning Mrs. Lambert’s house that afternoon and almost let the gardening go. But, in the end, she’d donned her mother’s old bonnet and set about tending her tomatoes.

These days, she couldn’t afford to risk even a single carrot that the garden produced. Perhaps if Mrs. Lambert hadn’t been so demanding, she would have made it home before the sun was at its peak and her cheeks wouldn’t be stinging from sunburn.

Lena always did her best to stay inside during the hottest part of the day. Her blond hair and fair skin were not forgiving when it came to too much sun, especially her scar. She reached up and rubbed her arm, almost unconsciously. It was because of that scar that her brother tended to baby her, and why she only wore long-sleeves year-round.

She didn’t blame him, though. They were just kids when he accidentally branded her with their father’s cattle iron. Besides, only a few people even knew it was there.

She frowned at the thought of her employer, a disagreeable woman who acted as though she was married to the king of England, not just the mayor of Cody, Wyoming. Regardless, Lena needed that job, along with all her other odd jobs, just to keep the roof from caving in.

“I miss you, Mama and Papa,” she whispered aloud. Then nearly jumped out of her skin when the front door flew open, and her brother, Dan, swaggered in.

“Get the soup pot ready, sis. We’re going to feast tonight,” Dan proclaimed as he dangled a rabbit from each hand.

“Oh, my goodness! You almost scared me to death,” she said, picking up a towel and swatting him with it.

“And I wasn’t even trying that time,” he smirked.

Lena smiled and shook her head. She never could stay mad at him for long. With his light blond hair and bright blue eyes, he had the sweet face of an angel. Pair that with a devilish grin that could melt butter, and it was no wonder he got away with so much.

She squinted and shook her fist at him, an empty threat that made them both laugh. “One of these days, big brother.”

“How can you be angry when I’ve brought you gifts like this?” He held up the rabbits for Lena’s inspection.

“Well, those are some nice, fat rabbits,” she admitted.

“Yeah. I’m glad to see something is eating well, anyway.”

“As long as it’s not my garden he’s stuffing himself with,” Lena chuckled. “Where’d you get them?”

Dan’s smile slipped for a moment before he winked and said, “Never you mind. Just enjoy.”

“Oh, Dan,” she sighed. “You weren’t trapping on Mr. Hugo’s land, were you?”

Heaven forbid their neighbor suspect them of poaching. There was no telling what the grumpy, old goat might do. As it was, Mr. Hugo made a point to stop by at least once a week to complain. If it wasn’t a broken fence in the north pasture, it was the fallow cropland in the south. Or, if it wasn’t one of those things, it was always something else. Either Dan’s horse, Jesse, was eating Hugo’s grass or the postman couldn’t find his street because of their overgrown shrubs.

“Would I do something like that?” Dan asked, wriggling his brows and grinning innocently. Honestly, he should have had that smile of his trademarked. Unfortunately for him, though, it didn’t work on her anymore.

“Dan! You know better!” Lena scolded. “He probably saw you cutting across the field with a rabbit in each hand and is on his way now to get the sheriff.”

“Oh, let him,” Dan scoffed, tossing the rabbits on the table. “I’d like to see him prove it. Last time I checked, he hadn’t gotten around to branding all the rabbits yet.”

Lena giggled and shook her head. “Still, you know what he’s like. Why give him extra ammunition to use against us?”

“Lena, that man doesn’t need any ammunition. If we don’t give him anything to fuss about, he’ll just make something up. Still, I think it’s awful strange that he never did that when Ma and Pa were alive. Now that we’re alone, he thinks he can bully us into moving so he can swoop in and steal our farm for nothing.”

“Why would you say that?” Lena asked as she picked up her skinning knife and prepared for the nasty business of dressing their dinner. “Did he say he wanted to buy the farm?”

For reasons she wasn’t keen on examining too closely, Lena wasn’t totally opposed to the idea.

“Nah, but I wouldn’t sell to him if we were starving and didn’t have two nickels to rub together,” Dan told her.

She hated to inform him, but they weren’t far from starving, and she didn’t have two pennies to rub together, much less nickels.

A rap on the door had Dan scowling and Lena’s heart in her throat. By the second knock, she had tossed both rabbits into the dry sink, along with the skinning knife, and covered them with a towel. Swiping her hands against her cotton day dress, she made her way to the door while Dan leaned back in his chair and began cleaning his hunting knife with an old rag.

“Who is it?” she chirped.

“Hugo,” their visitor bellowed.

Lena took a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on her face before opening the door. “Hello, Mr. Hugo. What brings you here today?”

Without waiting for an invitation, the older gentleman pushed past her and stomped into the small kitchen. “He does!” he said, pointing at Dan.

Lena’s heart sank. She closed the door and followed him into the room. “Why, Mr. Hugo. I can’t imagine—”

“Daniel Vance! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Mr. Hugo shouted. “Do not cut across my pasture on your way to town.”

Dan rolled his eyes. He might be nearing twenty-five, but he could still act like a toddler sometimes.

Mr. Hugo continued his rant. “You left the gate open—again—and Storm got out. Again.”

Lena sighed. She loved all animals and, normally, wouldn’t harm a fly. But Storm was an exception to that rule. She couldn’t stand that horse. If an animal could have a bad attitude, that one certainly did.

“Well, I’m real sorry about that, Mr. Hugo,” Dan said. “If I can help round him up, I will.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult,” Mr. Hugo replied. “I know exactly where he is. He’s lying dead in the old creek bed.”

Lena’s eyes bulged. “Dead? What do you mean?”

“You know how rocky and uneven that ground is. That’s why I never let them over there to graze. He must have stumbled or stepped in a hole or something. His leg was broken,” Hugo explained. “I had to shoot the poor beast.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Hugo,” she said sincerely. “If there’s anything we can do—”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he interrupted again. “You can pay me for my horse. I reckon two hundred dollars ought to cover it.”

“What?” Lena’s jaw dropped.

“Two hundred dollars?” Dan parroted.

“That’s right. Storm was my best saddle horse, sired from the finest stock.” Mr. Hugo spun and headed toward the door.

“Mr. Hugo,” Dan pleaded. “Please. Can’t we work something out? It might take a while, but I could work off the debt in the evenings and on weekends. I could—”

Mr. Hugo opened the door then turned to Dan, his hand resting on the doorknob. “No. I want compensation and I want it in a fortnight. Or I’ll take my claim to court.”

Dan stood. “But we just don’t have—”

“You might not have cash, but you have assets. You have the house, your horse, your farm, your equipment…” He paused, hitching his thumb in Lena’s direction. “Your sister. She’s marrying age now and not bad looking at all. At least, not the parts one can see. I hear she’s covered in scars underneath her dress, but you don’t have to tell anyone. And by the time they found out, it’d be too late. They’d already be hitched.”

Lena gasped, her hand automatically flying to the scar on her arm. How had he known? She’d been so careful over the years to keep her scar hidden. Not because she was ashamed, but because it was hideous. She didn’t want people to pity her. That much was true. But she would never stoop so low as to trick someone into marriage.

“Take my advice. She’ll fetch a handsome price in the mail-order catalogues. There’s plenty of men out here looking for a cook and a cleaner or someone to brood some chits.”

“Get out,” Dan growled.

“Suit yourself,” Mr. Hugo sneered, swiping his hat against his thigh before settling it atop a tuft of graying hair. “You have one fortnight.”

After slamming the door so hard the dishes in the cupboard rattled, Mr. Hugo left Lena and Dan sitting in shocked silence.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the cicadas resumed their familiar melody. It was Lena who finally broke the silence. “We’re dead,” she croaked. “We’re going to starve to death.”

“No, we aren’t,” Dan gritted out.

Lena wasn’t so sure about that. As it was, they were always just one crop shy of going hungry, one paycheck shy of bankruptcy. She pressed her eyelids closed against the tears that were threatening to overcome her, but it wasn’t enough to stop them from falling.

“Aw, sis,” Dan said as he reached out and drew her into his arms. “Please don’t cry. We’ll find a way. We always find a way.”

“O-k-kay,” she sniffed. “I’ll see if I can get some extra work at the dress shop.” Though, she doubted there were enough hours in the day to sew the number of dresses she’d need in order to earn two hundred dollars.

“I mean it,” he told her. “We’ll be okay. I know where I can get some work.”

“Doing w-what?” she hiccupped.

He reached up and dried her cheek with his finger. “You let me worry about that. We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Lena nodded and buried her head in her big brother’s shoulder, drawing comfort from his strength. She could do this—would do this. She would do whatever needed to be done to get through this. Even marriage.

She had never really considered marriage as a serious solution to their predicament, mainly because she’d never had the time or the opportunity to court. But she was nearly twenty years old, almost an old maid according to some folks. Although she hated to agree with anything Mr. Hugo suggested, even she had to admit that marriage seemed to be a rational, viable solution.

Still, a mail-order bride? Love couldn’t be ordered like a package; it was more like a delicate tapestry that needed to be stitched together, thread by fragile thread. Wasn’t it?

Perhaps love was asking too much. She wasn’t a child anymore and it was time to face the facts. She needed food, shelter, and security. And once she had that, she’d be in a better position to help her brother. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that marriage was the answer.

She sniffed and pulled away.

“Where you going?” Dan asked.

“You don’t think those rabbits are going to skin themselves, do you?” she replied.

There were always worse things than being a mail-order bride. For example, being hungry. That was far worse.

Chapter One

Four months later

Lena stooped low, peeking out from around the thick growth of brambles and honeysuckle that grew along the fence line between her house and Mr. Hugo’s. She felt naughty spying like this but wasn’t quite brave enough to intervene.

A young boy stood in front of Mr. Hugo’s house, clenching his hat in front of him, trembling. She was pretty sure it was Timothy Wright, but she hadn’t seen the boy in a long time. “But sir—”

“I’m not paying you a red cent,” Mr. Hugo yelled. “You go home and tell that no-good pa of yours that when I ask for a job to be done, I expect it to be done right. And on time!”

“But sir—”

“And tell him not to bother coming back either,” Mr. Hugo added for good measure.

“He…He’s sick, sir,” the boy said, his voice shaking.

“Bah,” Mr. Hugo scoffed. “Lazy to the bone is more like. Now, get out of here!”

Lena watched Timothy take off running, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Poor little fellow, she thought. One of these days, Mr. Hugo was going to get what was coming to him. She cast him her best stink-eye, waiting for him to go back inside so she could continue on her way.

As Mr. Hugo finally turned and stomped back into his house, slamming the door behind him, Lena exhaled a long, shaky breath. She waited a few more moments to be sure he wouldn’t come back out, then quickly scurried past his yard, her heart pounding in her chest.

Once she was safely inside her own home, Lena leaned against the door, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t stand the way Mr. Hugo treated people, especially children. But what could she do? He was a bully, and she was just one person.

Determined not to let the encounter ruin her evening, Lena busied herself in the kitchen, preparing dinner. As she chopped vegetables, her mind kept drifting back to the young boy and his sick father. Maybe there was something she could do to help them, even if it was just a small gesture.

She looked down at the carrots and potatoes she was chopping, then ran over and grabbed a few more. She was already making dinner for herself and Dan. It really wasn’t any trouble to just add a few more vegetables to the stew and share it with the boy and his father. She would drop it off on her way to work the following morning. It was the least she could do.

“Oh, good! You’re home,” Lena said as her brother waltzed in the door.

“Not for long, I’m afraid.”

Lena frowned. “You have to work?”

Dan nodded. “We need the money.”

She certainly couldn’t argue with that. Still, she sighed. “That Mr. Hugo is a horrid man.”

Dan chuckled. “You’re just now coming to that conclusion?”

She sniffed. “No. I guess it still surprises me how someone could be so…mean.”

“What’d he do this time?” Dan sat up straighter in his chair. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. Not me,” she said, shaking her head as she fetched a glass of water. “Not me. He was too busy yelling at Mr. Wright’s son.”

“Oh, well, we know what he’s like,” Dan replied, relaxing a bit.

“I suppose,” she sighed again. “Are you busy? I could use your help.”

She was late. Between spying on Mr. Hugo and having to scrub Mrs. Lambert’s floor twice, it was already well into the afternoon.

“Sure thing,” Dan said, smiling as he sat at the kitchen table. He was surrounded by scads of crumpled newspapers and a dented tin cup full of coffee. “But make it quick. I have to go to work.”

That was his excuse for a lot of stuff these days, and she had come to expect it. She wouldn’t complain, though, especially since it was his work that had allowed them to pay off their debt to Mr. Hugo and still manage to eat and maintain the farm. Or, at least, what was left of their farm. They’d had to sell most of the animals, keeping only one cow, Lucy, and a few chickens. Oh, and Dan’s horse, Jesse.

“Can you bring in some wood for the stove before you leave?” she asked, tossing her bonnet on the chair beside him and settling a large, burlap bag on the tabletop. She’d borrowed it from Mrs. Lambert’s shed and made a mental note to return it before anyone knew it was missing.

“I already put the kindling in the stove for you,” Dan preened. “And the wood is stacked over there.”

Well, that was something, at least. It wasn’t often that he completed a chore without her having to ask multiple times.

“Oh,” she said, a bit dazed. “Thank you.”

She supposed she could start cooking right away, even if she was dreading it. The heat generated by the stove was nearly unbearable this time of year, and it would be worse today given they were smack dab in the middle of a vicious heatwave. Although, with any luck, it would be the last one of the season.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I also went into town earlier and stopped by the mercantile. Our account is all paid up now so you’re free to shop for groceries again.”

She blinked, at a total loss for words. What in the world was going on here? Their account hadn’t been paid up since her pa passed away.

“What’s that?” Dan asked, nodding toward the bag now in her hands.

“Prairie turnips,” she told him as she pulled out a handful and laid them on the table beside Dan’s newspaper.

He scrunched his nose and frowned. “Where’d you get them?”

“There’s a whole field full of them behind Mrs. Lambert’s house,” she explained.

“I thought I’d make a stew tonight, and tomorrow you can have the rest for breakfast with some chokecherries.”

He might not be crazy about prairie turnips, but she knew he loved chokecherries.

“You’ll have to save me some stew,” he said, reaching for a chokecherry. “But look at this before I go.”

He slapped his hand on a newspaper article and pushed it across the table in front of her. “This is the one, Lena. I’m sure of it.”

Okay. Something was definitely up. Her brother was acting even stranger than normal. After spending months fighting against her decision to marry, he’d suddenly had a complete change of heart. She reckoned there must be something really special about this ad to make him so supportive.

“But I’ve already written back to Mr. Walker in Billings,” she protested lamely, even as she scooped up the article and began to read.

32-year-old male in Cody, Wyoming seeks young, healthy wife to help with cooking and caring for three men. General ranch chores included. Only interested parties need apply to Paul Cooper at the address below.

Then, she read it two more times in case there was something in it she had missed.

“I’m sorry, Dan, but I don’t get it. What makes you think this is the right one?”

Mr. Walker’s advertisement was much better. At least he had written more than two sentences and was considerate enough to include a bit of information about himself. He was also looking for more than just a cook and a cleaner. The best she could say about this Mr. Cooper was that he appeared to be painfully honest.

Dan looked insulted. “What do you mean? He’s a rancher and he lives right here in Cody. You’d be close enough that I could visit and keep an eye on you.”

Lena nodded. “You’re right. I hadn’t considered that.”

She honestly hadn’t realized it meant so much to him, believing he might be relieved to not have to worry about her anymore. She knew she was a burden. Her care and support shouldn’t have to fall squarely on his shoulders. The least she could do was marry so he could get on with his own life. Whether it was Mr. Cooper or Mr. Walker was of little consequence to her so long as she had food in her belly and a good roof over her head.

“Of course I’m right,” he told her. “This Cooper fella is the right one.”

“But won’t Mr. Walker think I’m…flaky or something? After all, I did lead him to believe I was open to offers in the letter I sent him.”

“Don’t be silly,” Dan said, standing and reaching for his hat. “He probably won’t even think twice about it. Why, I doubt he’s even read your letter. I bet he’s received tons of responses from interested women and yours is buried at the very bottom.”

He was probably right. And it would be nice to settle somewhere near the family’s home. She could always come by to visit her parents’ graves and make sure her brother was okay. Once her ranch chores were done, that is. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

“Take my advice, sis. Don’t wait. Write him a letter tonight and tell him you’re available immediately.”

“If I didn’t know better, Daniel Vance, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

Dan snorted and settled his hat atop his curly blond hair. “That’s ridiculous. I just want to see you settled and close by.”

He walked over and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before striding to the door. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

“All right. But what do they have you doing over there so late at night?” she said, half-teasing.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” he assured her. “I’m just keeping an eye on Mr. Tanner’s herd for him.”

“You’re cow-sitting? Why?”

Dan sighed. “Because between coyotes, rustlers, and plain old bad luck, he’s losing more cattle than he can afford.”

“Oh.” Lena nodded, then glanced down at her feet. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not for me,” he grinned.

She smiled, feeling a little better.

“Oh, and Lena?”

“Yes?

“I love you, sis,” he said, then closed the door behind him.

Lena stood there staring at the doorway for a moment, then murmured, “I love you, too.”

Alone now, she hurried over and lit the stove, letting it heat up before she started supper. While she waited, she walked into her parents’ old bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of her ma’s bureau. Then, taking out a pen and paper, she went back to the kitchen and lit a candle.

With a deep breath, she tapped the quill against her chin and tried to concentrate. She needed to write an exceptional letter to Mr. Paul Cooper… one that he wouldn’t ignore.