Prologue

Marysville, Oregon 1877

Under the weathered oak desk, Bo’s fingers toyed idly with the hammer on his Colt revolver. A strange temptation to level it at the man in front of him, to watch him quake in his dirty boots, overtook him. He could threaten this man. He knew he could. It’d be the quick and easy way to get what he wanted.

“I…I hope you can understand, Mr. Montgomery,” stammered Bentley Cross. “Anton’s got a wider range of cattle, a couple different breeds, you know? And…and I figured for the business, it’s probably best to have variety.”

The sniveling man before him ran the largest meat packing operation in the Willamette Valley. Bo could read between the lines of what Bentley was saying. He might be spineless, but he had a knack for business. Anton didn’t own as many head of cattle as Bo, but that meant the cattle were typically in better condition. Besides that, Bo’s land wasn’t as good for grazing as Anton’s, a fact that never ceased to irritate him. Plus, he had that brother of his to help, while Bo had to rely on an endless stream of young cowboys who came and went faster than his cigar smoke.

Bo pushed the gun further into its holster and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I understand,” he replied smoothly. “A man has to be selective when it comes to cattle. But if you change your mind, the offer stands.”

Bentley made an odd noise somewhere between a squeak and a grunt as he nodded his head. “I’ll sure keep that offer in mind, sir. If business is good this year, maybe I could even do business with both you and Anton. With the way finances stand right now, I just can’t…”

Bo held up a hand to forestall him. “Yes, I understand. Let’s hope your plant does well this year.”

With a relieved smile, Bentley got up and extended his hand to Anton. “Pleasure meeting with you, sir.”

“Same,” Bo replied, shaking the proffered hand. “See you ‘round, Bentley.”

As he left the room, Bentley gave a sigh of relief that wasn’t as quiet as he’d hoped. Bo leaned back once more and crossed his legs, gnawing at the toothpick in his mouth. Though he’d known it wasn’t likely that he’d land a deal with Cross, it was still a blow. This was the third deal that he’d lost to Anton in the last year alone.

Bo got up and left the room, needing to stretch his legs. He headed out to the barn that neighbored his office, catching sight of a groom sitting on a fence, kicking his legs. When the boy saw Bo sauntering through the yard, he jumped off the fence and stumbled onto his knees. His expression became desperate as he got up and brushed the gray dust from his chaps.

“You! Boy!” Bo barked. The boy straightened up, his hands shaking slightly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Saddle my horse. Now.”

The boy bobbed his head and hurried into the barn, stumbling once again as he crossed the threshold. Bo rolled his eyes, then turned to survey his acres of land. It wasn’t a bad bit of acreage by any stretch of the imagination. The rolling hills grew enough for his cattle to feed, but it wasn’t as high quality as the rich soil on Anton’s land.

After what seemed like an eternity, the groom rushed out of the barn leading Barkley, Bo’s black stallion. He took the reins from the groom and eyed the saddling job critically.

“You forgot to tighten the cinch,” Bo grumbled, fixing it himself. “Get it right next time!”

After fixing the loose cinch, Bo put his foot in the stirrup and leapt nimbly into the saddle. He nudged Barkley with his heels. The excitable horse needed no further encouragement and trotted out into the fields. At long last, Bo found Oscar, his right-hand man, repairing a fence out in the west pasture.

“Oscar!” he barked. The man scurried up from the ground and wiped sweat from his brow with a red kerchief.

“Yessir?”

“Head on back to the office. We’ve got things to talk about.”

Oscar scratched his head. “What things?”

Bo spoke through gritted teeth. “We’ve just lost another deal to Anton Cooper. You and I are going to come up with a way to deal with him.”

Chapter One

Canton, Texas 1877

“What do I do now, Papa?”

The words rang hollowly in the silence. Kaitlin Hawthorne gazed down at the freshly dug mound of earth, under which her father’s body now lay in a simple wooden coffin. She swallowed hard, holding back more tears.

All the mourners had left the graveside funeral until only Kaitlin stood by her father’s grave. Even her sisters had walked away, prepared to gather back at the farm. It was quiet now, and she felt a sense of privacy, even in the open space. She preferred it that way. At least now she didn’t have to listen to questions from the townsfolk about her plans, or her sisters’ insistent talk of selling the farm. She could have a few last moments with her father.

Kaitlin chuckled darkly, wiping more tears away. “Not that you talked much in life. I sure don’t expect you to answer me in death. But…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “But a sign would be nice. Without the farm, I feel lost. I need some sorta purpose to follow, but I ain’t got no clue where to look.”

And it was true. The farm had been Kaitlin’s whole life. It hadn’t been much of a life, with the early hours and the ceaseless work late into the evening, but it was the only one she knew. Though she’d grumbled about it countless times, there was something comforting in the routine of milking the cows and collecting the eggs in the morning. The harvest time, though hard, had also sometimes been fun. She and her sisters would gather with the other farmers’ children and put on a husking bee, or pile up the extra hay and jump from the loft in the barn onto it. They’d ride their old swaybacked mare bareback through the fields, letting the sun envelop them in its warmth.

A shadow fell over the memories in Kaitlin’s mind as she wiped her nose on a plain handkerchief. She’d had fun times with her sisters and friends, but her father could be severe in his sternness. In some ways, it was a relief to know she didn’t have to greet her surly father in the mornings, a fact that only compounded her guilt and grief.

Pushing those intrusive thoughts away, Kaitlin left a single wild daisy on her father’s grave and walked away, back to the farm to face her sisters and the inevitable questioning. As she entered the small kitchen in their farmhouse, Kaitlin realized that it was the first time she’d come in here without the smell of something cooking to greet her. The task of cooking the meals always fell to Clara, while Amelia saw to the business part of the farm. Beatrice and Kaitlin shared the work in the fields.

Her sisters sat around the large, worn table. Amelia, as usual, had taken charge of everyone. She fiddled with a knot in one of the pine planks. Beatrice sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes cast down. Clara leaned her cheek heavily on her right hand, her eyes on the small engagement ring on her left.

“The farm has to be sold,” Amelia announced. “That’s the end of it. We’ll divide up the profits among us and go from there.”

Amelia’s eyes moved upward as Kaitlin shuffled her feet awkwardly side to side. She crossed her arms impatiently. “Come on then, Katy. Sit down.”

Kaitlin approached the table slowly and sat next to Clara, who reached out and gave her a side hug. She returned the gesture with her best brave smile. Though she knew it was coming, Amelia’s words still weighed on her heart. She sat silent as her sisters discussed their next steps.

“Beatrice, your portion of the sale should give you more than enough to get out to California and set you up with board for a couple months,” Amelia continued. “You’re sure this job is secure?”

Beatrice nodded, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she did so. “They say they’re desperate for teachers. They don’t mind that I don’t have much book learning.”

Amelia peered at her, then seemed to make up her mind. A small smile raised the corners of her mouth as she looked at Clara. “Did you talk to Jim about having a smaller wedding?”

Clara nodded. “You know Jim. He’s not into social gatherings much. He looked a little relieved, truth be told.”

All of them chuckled at that, knowing exactly how much quiet, serious Jim Blackwell hated social gatherings. They’d been amazed that he’d even dared to ask permission to court the pretty, vivacious Clara. And now here they were, getting married in a week.

“Well, you’re all settled, of course,” Amelia said. “You’ll be staying with me and Ethan until the wedding next week.”

A slight giggle escaped Clara. “Unless we elope first.”

Amelia raised her eyes heavenward. Kaitlin tried to fight a chuckle but failed and let out a snort.

Amelia’s eyes shot at Kaitlin in a glare, and she quickly covered her mouth and stopped laughing.

“And you, Katy? What are your plans?”

Kaitlin swallowed hard, grasping for something to say. Truth be told, she didn’t want the farm to sell. She liked the work. And what opportunities were there for a penniless farm woman? But she couldn’t run the farm alone. They’d barely kept it going with all of them helping out and their father leading the effort.

“I… I don’t know just yet,” she replied, feeling utterly defeated.

Amelia let out a sigh. “You might as well share the loft at our house with Clara and Beatrice until you can figure things out, then.”

And that was that. When Amelia made a pronouncement like this, there was no arguing, and Kaitlin knew it. After a bit more subdued chattering, all the sisters went their separate ways. Beatrice had to go through her things and decide what she would give away and what she would take to California. Clara had to go through her hope chest and make sure she had everything ready for the upcoming wedding. And Amelia had to start getting things ready for the sale of the farm.

With nothing else to do, Kaitlin got up to go pack her few belongings to move in with her sister. As she rose, she spotted the newspaper lying on the table. Her father had been reading before he went out to the fields and died of a heart attack while ploughing. It sat on the table in the exact spot where he’d left it. Slowly, she made her way to it, gently touching the black and white pages with her fingertips. Her stomach sank with the weight of grief, knowing this was one of the last things her father had touched before passing.

Picking it up, she paged through the front-page news, the opinions, and the personal ads. She scanned the ads, smiling sadly as she remembered how she and her sisters would hunt for the funny ones, such as ones about lost laundry.

Ed Greenwood lost one black sock off the wash line. Please return if found, as they’re my only pair.

Another of her favorites involved a woman publicly shaming her best friend.

Willamina Jones requests that Mary Davis give back her good black kettle, the thieving, so-called friend.

But there wasn’t much to giggle about in the ads that day. They were mostly want ads for cowboys to work the ranches out west. However, one caught her eye. She frowned, bringing the print closer to her face.

Jacob Cooper of Marysville, Oregon seeks mail order bride in good health for marriage arrangement. Light housekeeping and cooking for myself and my brother. Will provide funds for travel on request.

Kaitlin had heard of mail order brides. It was something that had become popular during the Gold Rush and the great migration out West. There weren’t enough women out there, she knew, so men sometimes put out ads in midwestern or eastern newspapers to attract women to the rough frontier settlements.

The idea had never particularly appealed to her. She’d never thought too much about marriage, and certainly never thought she’d one day consider it out of desperation. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she liked the thought of being a housewife at all, but mail order brides were sent to the frontier to help build up the settlements, and at least that was a purpose.

“Papa, is this your sign?” she whispered as she thumbed the paper.

Kaitlin knew she was at a crossroads, and a major one at that. Oregon sounded so exotic and far away. It might as well be another country. A pain shot through her heart at the possibility of never seeing her sisters again. But Beatrice was moving to California. If shy, studious Beatrice could be brave and go out on such an adventure, then maybe she could, too.

With sharp, quick movements, Kaitlin tore the advertisement from the newspaper, resolving to write a letter that very evening. It only took a few hours after that to move her things over to Amelia’s house in town, and then she settled at the desk in the loft she and Clara were to share for the next week.

Dear Mr. Cooper,

My name is Kaitlin Hawthorne, and I’m writing in response to your mail order bride advertisement I saw in the paper.

“Who are you writing to?”

Kaitlin jumped, startled, as Clara peered over her shoulder. In her haste to snatch up the letter, Kaitlin smeared the ink. Glaring up at Clara, she crumpled the paper in her fist. “A lil’ bit of privacy would be nice.”

Clara’s eyes were wide, her mouth open. “You’re responding to a mail order bride ad?”

“Hush!” Kaitlin hissed.

Clara plopped down on the bed beside the desk. “Katy, what are you thinking? You don’t know this man. He could be a scoundrel.”

Kaitlin crossed her arms and stared fixedly at the floor. “What other options do I have? Beatrice is teaching school. Amelia has her family. You’re getting married.”

Though she tried, Kaitlin couldn’t quite ignore the flash of hurt that crossed Clara’s face. “You have us.”

“I know,” Kaitlin replied. “But…”

A long silence fell between them, and Kaitlin had the feeling that Clara knew exactly what she was holding back.

“Katy,” she began slowly, “I know you feel like you’ve never fit in with our family, but that’s not true. You know we love you.”

Kaitlin peered sideways at her. “You saw how Amelia reacted when she asked me about my plans. She ain’t exactly thrilled to have me in her house.”

“That’s not true,” Clara said, but her eyes didn’t quite meet Kaitlin’s.

“You know it is. No matter how hard they try, her and Beatrice still blame me for Mama’s death.”

“Katy!” Clara gasped in shock. Was she shocked about how Kaitlin felt, or the fact that she’d said it out loud?

Kaitlin turned now to stare directly at Clara. “All of us know it’s true, even if we ain’t saying it out loud. She died bringing me into the world, and Beatrice and Amelia have always blamed me for it. The only reason you don’t is ‘cause you were too young to remember her. Even Papa resents that I’m here and she’s not.”

Clara said nothing, her lips pursed tightly against tears. She stood and pulled Kaitlin up by the hand, wrapping her in a hug. They pulled apart and Clara held her at arms’ length, looking her over as if searching for signs of illness.

“I hate that they’ve made you feel that way,” she said softly. “The others don’t deal with grief very well. For that matter, they don’t handle most emotions very well, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t love you.”

Kaitlin shrugged. “Well, whatever they’re thinking, it just ain’t practical for me to stay,” she reiterated. “This fellow sounds like he could use a hand. He runs a cattle ranch and needs someone to cook and keep house. I feel like I could really be useful.”

Clara’s expression grew pained. “Are you sure it’s safe? You don’t know this man from Adam.”

The words hit Kaitlin with concern, but she covered it with a careless wave of her hand. “Maybe not, but I’m a grown woman and I can handle myself. Besides, even if it don’t work out, forging my own adventure in Oregon is better than spinsterhood, which is the most likely future I have here.”

After one last hug, Clara sighed. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, then I’ll support you. But you’d better write often.”

Kaitlin smiled sadly. “Of course I will.”

***

Amelia, Clara, and Kaitlin all stood on the platform at the train station, waiting for the morning train to come in. They’d already said their goodbyes to Beatrice a few weeks prior as she embarked for California. After exchanging letters for a couple of months, Kaitlin and Jake had decided to go ahead and get married. His letters weren’t particularly romantic, but that didn’t matter much to Kaitlin. He seemed nice, and she supposed they could be happy enough.

And he spoke highly of both his older brother and the beauty of the Willamette Valley, where the ranch was. She couldn’t imagine a place with such lush greenery, and when he talked about snow in the winter, it excited her. She’d only seen a light dusting of the white stuff a couple of times in her life and couldn’t quite grasp what it must be like to need boots to walk through it and have it crunch under your feet.

As she gazed down the track, Kaitlin self-consciously smoothed the blue linen skirt of her new dress. Amelia, Beatrice, and Clara had all donated a portion of their earnings from the sale of the farm to buy something new for Kaitlin’s wedding dress. The wealthier women in Canton would claim it was plain, but it was the first new dress Kaitlin had received in three years. She loved the delicate white trim and the small but elegant bustle on the back. Though she had days of travel ahead, she couldn’t resist the impulse to wear it, at least for today.

The train came whistling down the tracks, sending a thrill of terror and excitement through Kaitlin. She turned to her sisters, unsure whether she should cry or grin. In the end, she did a mixture of both. Amelia cleared her throat as she pulled Kaitlin close and kissed her cheek.

“See that you take care of yourself,” she said. “Write when you can.”

Kaitlin nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She and Clara exchanged a long hug, both of them tearful as they pulled apart. “Please stay in touch,” Clara whispered. “I’ll miss you more than I can say.”

Kaitlin took a deep breath and boarded the train, hoisting her old, battered carpetbag onto her shoulder and finding a seat, then leaned out the window as it started down the tracks, waving one last time to her sisters. When she could no longer see them, she settled into her seat to read the packet of letters from Jake once more. What would he be like? She hadn’t asked about his appearance, nor had she told him much about her own.

Would she enjoy life in Oregon? How different would the ranch be from their small farm? She sighed and settled back into her seat. Only time would tell, she knew, and she’d have to be patient and see how things played out. First, though, she would have to make it through this long journey, a week-long adventure that would take her away from the only home she’d ever known.