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Montana's Promised Bride

“I never thought I’d leave everything behind to marry a stranger. I can’t help but wonder—could this practical solution be more than that? The family I’ve been searching for?”

Labeled a spinster, Susan longs for freedom from the whispers and judgment. When her brother’s fiancée pushes her too far, Susan answers a mail-order bride ad, embarking on a daring journey westward…

Raising his spirited niece, Eric shoulders the weight of responsibility with little room for personal dreams. But when his sister’s departure looms, Eric turns to a marriage of convenience. What he doesn’t expect is the surprising allure of the woman who steps into his life…

Brought together by circumstance, Susan and Eric find themselves navigating an arrangement neither fully anticipated. In the rugged beauty of Montana, their partnership is tested by secrets, an unruly child, and the shadow of a scheming neighbor determined to drive them out. They forge a bond that might just turn their trial period into a lifetime of love and family…

Written by:

Western Historical Romance Author

4.3/5

4.3/5 (85 ratings)

Prologue

Paradise Valley, Montana

June 13, 1867

 

At twenty-four years old, Eric Wilson was not a small man. But today especially, standing at the altar, waiting to marry the love of his life, he felt like he was ten feet tall. He couldn’t stop smiling as he looked around at the church, decorated with white flowers and delicate, lace ribbons.

His heart pounded with excitement as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and maintain a calmer demeanor. But the overwhelming joy welling up inside him made it impossible not to grin. Within the hour, he would be a married man.

The guests, dressed in their Sunday best, filled the church.. Friends and family, their faces beaming with happiness, whispered and chattered to each other, sharing in the happiness of the occasion.

The only thing missing was his best man. Well, that and his bride, who was likely on her way. As he stood there, a bittersweet pang tugged at his heart. If only his parents could be there to share this moment with him, it would be perfect. But they had both passed away years before, leaving a void that Eric and his siblings had done their best to fill.

Eric imagined their faces smiling down at him, proud and happy. He could almost hear his father’s hearty laugh and his mother’s gentle words, guiding him as he had grown up. Their absence still hurt, and always would. But he knew they were with him in spirit, watching over him on his special day, and would have been overjoyed to see him so happy and in love. Today was as much a tribute to their memory as it was a celebration of his future.

He glanced over at his nineteen-year-old sister, Martha. He couldn’t believe how fast she’d grown up. She looked beautiful in her new blue dress, with little white flowers teased throughout her sandy brown hair, the same color as his. Like Eric, she had the same bright blue eyes as their mother, Margaret Wilson. Catching his eyes, Martha smiled, and it lit up the room.

Eric’s older brother, Samuel, sat tall beside Martha on the pew, proud and satisfied. Samuel’s broad shoulders and strong jawline gave him an air of confidence. His hair, darker than Eric’s and Martha’s, was neatly combed, and his eyes, a deeper shade of blue, and though he rarely smiled these days, the warmth in his gaze spoke volumes. Samuel had always been a rock for the family, and today was no different. His presence was a comforting reminder of their father, John Wilson.

“She’ll be here soon,” Martha told Eric. “Knowing Laura, she’ll be making sure that she looks perfect.”

Eric smiled and nodded. Martha was right, he was sure. Even if nervous butterflies flapped around in his belly. . That was normal. After all, it was the happiest day of his life, the day he would marry his childhood sweetheart, Laura Smith.

Yet he couldn’t help his attention straying outside, through the window. Laura was late, and so was her mother. He tried to ignore the growing knot of worry in his chest, telling himself that it was just a minor delay. But as the minutes ticked by, his anxiety grew.

A murmur began to ripple through the congregation. Whispered conversations and hushed speculations swept through the gathered guests like a restless breeze.

“Do you think everything’s alright?” Mrs. Shipley, the pastor’s wife whispered to her to the woman next to her. Eric thought she was the blacksmith’s wife.

“It’s not like her to be late,” she replied.

As Eric adjusted his collar for the third time, the starched fabric suddenly feeling constricting around his neck, Samuel stood up and joined him near the altar.

“I’m sure she’s just delayed, Eric,” he said under his breath. “Maybe the carriage had trouble.”

“Maybe,” Eric murmured, though doubt still gnawed at him. Laura was always punctual—early, even. She had teased him countless times about his own tendency to cut things too close. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

The whispers grew louder, until almost all of the guests were stating their concerns and idle gossip ran rampant throughout the room. “Do you suppose she’s changed her mind?” The organist asked Pastor Shipley.

That last comment sent a chill down Eric’s spine.. Did they really think she would abandon him at the altar? The very idea was absurd—wasn’t it?

 

“I’m sure she’s on her way,” Samuel said without his usual conviction.

The pastor cleared his throat discreetly, his eyes darting between Eric and the entrance.

Eric’s heart pounded harder. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. The air in the church seemed stifling now, the warmth from the gathered bodies pressing in on him.

His gaze settled on one of the guests, his brother’s friend, Monica Whitmore. She was trying to put on a brave face, and doing pretty well until her father leaned over and said, “Reckon she got cold feet?”

“That’s it,” Eric growled. “I’m going to find her”.”

Samuel frowned as if he wanted to argue but nodded instead. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. Stay here with Martha.”

Samuel agreed reluctantly and Eric walked toward the big, oak doors of the church, his heart pounding with fear. But just as he was about to step through them, a woman in a large, feathered hat blocked his way. Eric squinted, trying to place her face. He was almost certain she was one of Laura’s aunts, though he couldn’t recall her name.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to get around her.

The woman looked at him the way she might size up a rattlesnake, with equal amounts of caution and curiosity. “Young man, you need to know something about my niece,” she began.

He was right. She was one of the aunts—one he didn’t have time to mess with right now. ‘It’s not really a good time—”

“It’s the best time,” she argued. “Laura has always been a bit flighty. It’s in her nature, I’m afraid. She’s just like her father. It’s probably best that she’s left you standing here like a lone pine on the prairie, swaying in the wind. You should count yourself lucky. You’ve had a narrow escape.”

Her words hit Eric like a punch to the gut. He felt the blood drain from his face but he refused to believe the words he heard. No. No, it couldn’t be. Laura couldn’t have done that to him—not after they had been sweethearts for so long. Not when she had been excited for their wedding, to be his wife…

Hadn’t she?

Crushed, Eric hurried past Laura’s aunt, not knowing if she was there to only deliver her warning, or to watch the spectacle of gossip, and found his horse outside the church. His thoughts were swirling, his emotions all over the place—shock, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of loss. He couldn’t stay there, surrounded by the whispers and sympathetic glances of the guests. He needed to find Laura, to understand why she had done this.

Without a second thought, he jumped on his horse and rode as fast as he could to Laura’s house. He’d left his hat at the church and the wind whipped through his hair, though he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed with questions and a far-fetched hope that there had been some mistake, some accident. As he approached the familiar house, he saw Mrs. Smith pacing on the porch. Her face was scored with worry lines, and she seemed to be muttering to herself.

Eric dismounted and hurried up the steps. “Mrs. Smith, where’s Laura? What happened?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Mrs. Smith looked up, as if startled by his sudden appearance. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before speaking.

“I…I’m not sure. But I think she said something about the relay station,” Mrs. Smith admitted. “She took her bags with her.”

Eric felt a fresh wave of despair wash over him. “Relay station? She was supposed to come to the church. Why? Why would she go there?” he demanded, his voice rising with desperation.

“I really don’t know, Eric. I’m sorry. You know how headstrong she is. I tried talking some sense into her, but it didn’t do no good.”

Eric’s shoulders slumped, feeling like the life had gone out of his body. The woman in the big hat had been right—Laura had always been unpredictable. But Eric had never imagined she would leave him like this, without any explanation. He had thought their love was strong enough to overcome any doubts or fears. Now, he wasn’t so sure. If he could just talk to her…

He realized he had a choice to make. He could either go back home and wait for her to come back, or he could go after her and find out the truth. Taking a deep breath, he made his decision. “I’m going after her,” he told Mrs. Smith as he started down the steps.

Mrs. Smith reached out and gripped his arm. “Listen, son. I know how you must feel. But sometimes, people just aren’t who we think they are. Laura… well, she ain’t ready for this. And you deserve someone better. I’ve wanted to warn you but I truly hoped she had found her man to settle down with. I thought… I felt as though you were good for her, but nobody can pin that girl down, it seems.”

Eric stood there, his body feeling disconnected from his thoughts. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” he said quietly. “But I deserve an explanation. From her.”

He needed to hear from Laura’s own mouth why she was leaving him, and he needed to know if there was still any chance for their future. Eric mounted his horse once more and set off toward the relay station.

Confusion and fear gripped him as he spurred his horse faster towards the coach station. The ride felt like it lasted for an eternity, his mind filled with dreadful possibilities.

The relay station in Virginia City was a hive of activity, filled with the sounds of horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestone yard, the shouts of stable hands, and the creaking of leather harnesses.

Inside the sturdy wooden building, the station was just as active, with several employees busy tapping out messages on their telegraph machines, the loud clacking of keys seeming to punctuate the buzz of conversation. Wood smoke and oil lamps seemed to compete with the smell of freshly brewed coffee from the small café in the corner. Eric dodged and weaved, trying to make his way through the throng of travelers around him. From businessmen in new suits, through rugged frontiersmen, to with ladies in prairie dresses, passengers were milling about waiting for the next stagecoach or for their horses to be readied.

The station master, a burly man, did his best to direct the flow of horse and foot traffic alike. Stable hands hurried back and forth, leading horses to the troughs and preparing fresh teams for the next leg of their journey. Eric raced past a busy mailroom, his eyes scanning for his missing bride.

Outside, the yard was organized chaos. Brightly painted stagecoaches lined up patiently, waiting for their turn to leave. Passengers queued up in front of the station, some looking weary while others virtually vibrated with excitement.

Suddenly, he noticed a small woman standing in line, preparing to board a stagecoach, adjusting her shawl. Her long, blond hair flowed in ringlets down her back, and Eric’s heart leapt into his throat.

He took off, sprinting toward her. “Laura! Wait! Laura!”

The young lady turned around, surprised and confused. “Excuse me?”

Eric’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t his Laura.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his shoulders sagging in disappointment. “I thought you were someone else.”

He turned to go back inside the station, but instead saw something in the staging area that froze him in his tracks. He saw Laura.

There she stood holding a small carrying case with one hand, and holding a man’s hand with the other. Eric blinked several times to make sure that the man he saw was Tom Jennings—his best friend and his best man. It was. There was no mistaking it. It was Tom. Tom—and Eric’s fiancée.

At first, Eric’s mind rejected the scene before him altogether. Then, it scrambled trying to make sense of what was going on. What was Laura trying to do? What was Tom doing there with her? Maybe he followed her there. Maybe he was trying to fetch Laura back for him? He consoled himself with that fantasy and, for a brief moment, felt relieved. This was all just a big misunderstanding—an unfortunate accident of some sort. There had to be an innocent explanation.

But as he continued to watch them, the truth began to unfold slowly and painfully. Tom gripped Laura’s hand tightly as he pulled her to him, smiling down at her so tenderly that it left no room for doubt. And when they leaned into one another, and kissed, the truth was seared into Eric’s brain like a cattle iron. His heart shattered into a million, jagged pieces as the harsh reality hit him like a thunderclap. This was no simple misunderstanding. Laura and Tom were together. They’d left Eric standing at the altar like a jackass with nothing but the remnants of his misplaced trust and an ache that cut to the quick of his very soul.

He continued watching in disbelief as Laura and Tom boarded the carriage, their hands locked together while they laughed and teased. The betrayal felt like a physical blow, leaving him breathless and numb. He wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, but he couldn’t move. He could only watch as the carriage pulled away, taking with it what was left of his soul.

In that moment, Eric felt something inside him break. The pain was almost unbearable, but it was the cold, hard realization that hurt the most. He had lost Laura, not to some unforeseen tragedy, but to his best friend.

The love he had cherished, the trust he had placed, all seemed like a cruel joke now.

As the carriage disappeared into the distance, Eric turned away and headed back to the front of the station. Each step was a struggle, taking more effort that he was prepared to give.

“Never again,” he vowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Never again will I fall in love.” This was a solemn promise to himself.

He made his way slowly through the station, repeating the words like a mantra. He’d never give himself to another woman or allow himself to be hurt like this again. He couldn’t survive it twice. The pain was just too much.

Feeling dead inside, Eric mounted his horse and rode away from the coach station.

The rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves was comforting to him but it couldn’t utterly quell the turmoil raging within him. He was a changed man, his heart hardened by betrayal. The Eric Wilson who had stood at the altar that morning was gone. Now there was only the cold, heartless Eric Wilson who would never trust in love again. The vibrant, hopeful man who had once believed in the power of love was now a distant memory, replaced by someone who would learn to view the world through a lens of cynicism and distrust.

As he rode through the countryside, the scenery blurred past him, unnoticed. His mind was tormented with dark thoughts, each one more painful than the last. He recalled the last moments he had shared with Laura, the dreams they had built together, and how easily it had all been thrown away.

And then there was Tom. The betrayal by his best friend was a wound that cut deeper than any physical pain he’d ever experienced. It was a betrayal of the highest order, one that left him questioning everything he’d ever known about loyalty and friendship.

Eric let his horse guide him home. They traveled through familiar places that once held happy memories, special moments that now seemed tainted by their lurid affair. The laughter and joy that had once filled these spaces were now replaced with a haunting silence. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard he tried. He never would. Memories clung to him like the lingering scent of gunpowder, a constant reminder of what he’d lost. The more he tried to push them away, the more they seemed to consume him.

It was over. Now he just had to keep to himself and avoid any form of social interaction. He’d once been sociable and friendly, but now he only wanted to seek seclusion, preferring the solitude of his own company. He would have enough work to keep his mind occupied, and the ranch would benefit from his focus. The hard physical work might even dull the pain inside him. But he doubted he could ever replace the ache in his heart.

He lay in bed that night while the rest of the world slept and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if he would ever be able to move on, if the pain would ever lessen. But deep down, he knew that some wounds never really healed. They would leave deep scars. So, he would continue to live, a shadow of the man he once was, forever changed by the betrayal that had shattered his existence.

Chapter One

Bighorn Basin, Wyoming

July 17, 1873 (Six years later)

 

A loud crash echoed through the comfortably sized farmhouse, followed by a resounding, “Fiddlesticks!” as Susan hopped around on one foot, clutching her shin in her hands. Served her right. She’d been absorbed in housework, again, when she banged her leg against the table. Again. She hopped over to the sofa and plopped down, raising her skirt to see what kind of damage she’d done this time.

A sharp pain made her wince, and she looked down at the old scar on her shin. It was a constant reminder of the loss of her parents—the carriage accident that had taken her parents’ lives and left her with this permanent mark. This ugly, painful reminder of how she’d failed her family.

The memory of that tragic day flooded back, and her eyes grew misty. She could still hear the cracking of the wheels, the horses’ frantic screeches, and the final, deafening crash. Her parents’ faces, frozen in shock and fear, haunted her even now, years later. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the painful images, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

“It’s in the past,” she murmured to herself. “It’s over now.”

Just as she was about to resume her cleaning, Abigail, Susan’s brother’s ghastly fiancée, waltzed into the room and dropped her bag on the floor as she tugged off her gloves. Abigail’s presence always brought a sense of dread with it. She had a knack for making Susan feel small and insignificant with her snide remarks and sorely inflated sense of entitlement. Today would likely be no different.

“Still playing housemaid, I see.” Abigail’s voice dripped with condescension. “I suppose it’s the only thing you’re really good at.”

Susan’s heart sank. She clenched her fists, trying to keep her composure. Abigail never behaved this way when James was around, and he refused to believe anything bad about his beloved angel. It was a constant source of frustration and hurt for Susan.

“Abigail, please,” Susan said quietly, standing and fluffing her skirt. “I was just straightening up a little. And now I’m leaving.”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed and she stepped in front of Susan. “Oh, not so fast. I think it’s time that we have a serious talk. Don’t you? After all, we’re practically sisters.”

Susan sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, you, silly,” Abigail chuckled.

“What about me?”

Abigail crossed her arms, an ugly smirk playing on her lips. “You know, you’re an embarrassment to your brother. He only keeps you around out of some misplaced sense of duty. It’s not like he actually enjoys having you here.”

The words hit Susan like a physical blow. She felt her heart sink, but she forced herself to stand tall. “That’s not true,” she snapped. “James loves me.”

“He’s ashamed of you. He’s just too nice and too polite to say anything.”

Susan bit her lip, reminding herself that she was a lady. She didn’t need to stoop to Abigail’s level, trading childish spars and bullying others.

“Isn’t it time you found something more meaningful to do with your life?” Abigail asked. “Or are you content to just be a burden to your brother and me forever?”

The words stung, and Susan felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She had always tried to be strong, but Abigail’s relentless jabs were wearing her down. And today, Abigail seemed particularly determined to upset her.

“Why do you have to be so cruel?” Susan’s voice trembled with emotion. “What have I ever done to you?”

Abigail stepped closer, her expression hardening. “You exist, Susan. That’s enough.”

The venom in her voice nearly took Susan’s breath away. That was the last straw. She was done. She would finally accept that there was nothing she could do to repair this broken relationship. And she wasn’t going to keep her anger bottled up any longer, either. “You have no right to speak to me like that,” she said, her voice rising. “This is my home, and I won’t let you make me feel unwelcome in it.”

“This is your brother’s home,” Abigail spat viciously. “It went to him when your father died. It will be mine as soon as we’re married. And I’m afraid my house just isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Susan fought back her tears, but her defenses were crumbling by the second. In fact, she felt utterly defeated. She dropped the broom she’d been holding and rushed outside, sinking onto the porch steps and finally allowing her tears to flow freely.

Her shoulders shook with sobs as she tried to make sense of her situation. The cool evening air did little to soothe the burning ache in her chest. She had tried so hard to make things work, to be patient and kind, but Abigail’s cruelty had finally broken her. As she sat there, her face buried in her hands, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Susan, what’s the matter, dear?”

Susan looked up, her eyes red and swollen. Standing in front of her was Helen, their landlady. The older woman had always been kind to Susan, but especially so after the death of her father.

“I’m fine,” Susan sniffed. “It’s—it’s just Abigail. She’s… she’s such an ill-tempered shrew! I can’t take it anymore.”

Helen sighed and sat down beside her. “I know. I’ve seen how she treats you. It’s not right, and you don’t deserve it. Why, I have a good mind to beat some sense into that brother of yours.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t,” Susan pleaded. It would just make things worse. He wouldn’t believe a word against Abigail, anyway. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

“Probably not,” Helen agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment while Susan tried to collect herself. Helen’s presence was comforting, and she handed Susan a hanky as she patted her arm. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Susan sighed as she thought about the situation with her future sister-in-law. Abigail had made it abundantly clear on several occasions that she wanted Susan out of the house. Though, usually she disguised her comments more as suggestions or helpful advice—things like, “You really need to find yourself a husband,” or “This house is just too small for all of us,” or Susan’s personal favorite, “What will happen once James and I start our family.” Susan had grown accustomed to these thinly veiled barbs. But Abigail had grown more brazen recently.

“I’ve tried to reason with her,” Susan told Helen. “I explained that this is my home, and that I grew up here. Every corner of this house holds memories of my parents and the life we had together.”

“And I’m sure she didn’t care,” Helen stated, frowning in distaste.

Susan shook her head sadly. “No. And her relentless pressure makes it impossible for me to stay. I’m going to have to find somewhere to go.”

“She is one nasty piece of work,” Helen murmured. “Do you have any place you can go?”

“No, but it’s clear that she isn’t going to stop until I’m gone.”

“Have you tried talking to your brother?” Helen asked.

“Yes, I have. More than once,” Susan replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

Helen frowned, her concern deepening. “What did he say?”

Susan sighed, recalling the painful conversation. “I told him everything. I explained how Abigail has been treating me, how she wants me out of the house so she can have it and James all to herself. But he just dismisses me every time. He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m overreacting or misunderstanding Abigail’s intentions.”

“He said that?”

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