Leora: Bride of California (American Mail-Order Bride 31) Read online

  Leora:

  Bride of California

  by

  Kit Morgan

  The American Mail-Order

  Brides Series

  Book 31

  ANGEL CREEK PRESS

  Leora: Bride of California

  (The American Mail-Order Brides Series, Book 31)

  by Kit Morgan

  © 2015 Kit Morgan

  To sign up for Kit’s newsletter and find out about upcoming books and other fun stuff, visit www.authorkitmorgan.com

  To check out Kit’s complete collection of stories, click here.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com

  * * *

  License Note

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For Ray and Nina. You can’t have one without the other. Thank you for letting me borrow your characters from The Circuit Rider’s Bride, A Tale of the Old West, for Leora and Theron’s wedding. They’ll have to pay Mark and Lydia a visit one day …

  One

  Just outside Nevada City, California, November 1890

  My dearest sister,

  By now you should be ready to depart on your journey to a new life. I can only hope that my letter has reached you in time, for I wanted to give you some words of encouragement.

  I’m sure you’ve received letters from some of our fellow mill-workers telling you of their different experiences with their new husbands. Some were so much fun to read, while others made me want to scream. Poor Alice! I hope all has worked out for her. I hear Roberta is doing well, as is our very own Beth. I’ve not heard yet from Judith.

  Don’t let some of their troubles discourage you. I’m sure we’ll hear from them again soon and find all has worked out for the best. I pray every day for our former roommates and friends, and take comfort that all will eventually find love with their new husbands. I pray this for you especially. The wife of a pastor must have a lot of love to give, but first you must find it for yourself.

  I’ve found it with Sam and his family and couldn’t be happier. Clear Creek is a wonderful little town, even if some of the residents are a bit peculiar. I hope to introduce you to them one day when you are able to visit. But first, you must settle in.

  Write me as soon as you arrive and let me know what the Rev. Drake is like. I can’t wait to hear! And Leora, if anything happens, you know you can write and Sam and I will send for you.

  With much love,

  Lottie

  Leora Mitchell put her sister’s letter into her reticule and listened to the rhythmic clackity-clack-clack of the train as it rolled through California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. The trip had been uneventful, with decent weather and pleasant passengers. But once she arrived in Nevada City, would it remain that way? She certainly hoped so. She sighed, looked out the window and drummed her fingers on her reticule.

  She really shouldn’t… or should she? She’d not only brought Lottie’s letter with her but their roommate Alice’s as well. Did she dare read it? Again?

  Her fingers itched to pull it out, but what good would it do? It would give me a good dose of reality, she thought to herself. If it could happen to Alice, it could happen to me … Or any of the other women who’d found themselves out of a job because of the fire at Brown’s Textile Mill. Things had worked out splendidly for many of her coworkers, but some hadn’t been so lucky.

  Unable to help herself, she pulled Alice’s letter out of her reticule and read it one more time, just to make sure she went into her own marriage with both eyes open:

  November 3, 1890

  Dear Leora,

  It would seem I was slightly mistaken about Mr. Frank Martel and his intentions. Unfortunately, he already has a sweetheart and was therefore unable to wed me. You can imagine how distressed I was but I refused to fall to pieces. It had been so lovely to return to Rhode Island, to once again see the ocean that my father had loved so well before he died, that I couldn’t be sorry for the trip.

  But I do have happy news. Frank’s older brother James has offered to marry me instead! I know you may be thinking that I’ve traded one bad situation for another, but I’m hopeful that this union will grow in time. Truly, James seems more suited for me. We were married yesterday at the Catholic Church.

  I think of you often and look forward to hearing of your situation!

  Yours affectionately,

  Alice

  Leora folded the letter and stuffed it into her reticule. “Well, Reverend Drake, I certainly hope you haven’t run off and married someone else, or gotten yourself shot, or otherwise caused yourself a mischief. For Heaven’s sake, please show up.”

  She knew she shouldn’t dwell on the negative of Alice’s letter, or the negative in general, but after hearing about her friend’s odd predicament (not to mention a few others) how could she not? On the sunny side, most of her fellow workers married good men, so far as she knew. But what if they were lying, too embarrassed to say what was really going on?

  She gripped her reticule and shuddered just as the train pulled into the station in Nevada City. There was no turning back now. By the time the locomotive came to a stop, her knuckles were white.

  She relaxed her fingers with an effort as her fellow passengers prepared to disembark. She herself had one small satchel with her and wouldn’t need a porter. Good. It would give her more time to look for the Rev. Drake. Considering how many people were on the train, it might take her a while to spot him.

  Leora waited for a woman with several small children in front of her to gather their things, then followed the little group to the exit. The sight of the children made her think of having her own one day. Provided everything worked out…

  Oh for Heaven’s sake, stop thinking like that! she chastised herself as she stepped onto the station’s platform. The woman and her children went directly to a tall blond man, presumably her husband. Sure enough, the children gathered around him and hugged him as one, almost throwing him off balance. Leora smiled, swallowed hard, then willed herself to look around.

  Theron Drake had described himself as a man of common appearance, medium height, dark hair and blue eyes. She glanced this way and that and saw quite a few men with dark hair, but they were moving so fast she couldn’t tell what their eye color might be.

  She stopped and chuckled to herself. Leora, you dolt! she thought as she realized she was looking at other passengers. They too were glancing around, looking for friends or family come to meet them. More and more found who they were looking for, the crowd began to thin – and she began to panic. What wo
uld she do if she were stranded? What if the Rev. Drake didn’t show up? What if …

  “Miss Mitchell?”

  Leora’s breath caught. A chill went up her spine and she felt as if she might faint. She turned around, took one look at the man in front of her and thought about fainting again. “R-r-reverend Drake?” came out a squeak.

  “Yes. And you’re Leora Mitchell?”

  She nodded, too dumbstruck to speak. He. Was. Gorgeous! Which meant there had to be something wrong with him … she shut her eyes tight. Stop it, stop it, stop it. She had to get a hold of herself!

  “Are you quite all right, Miss Mitchell?”

  Leora opened her eyes and shook her head. “Oh! I mean… yes, I’m quite all right.” She fanned herself with one hand. “It was such a long journey, you see. I must be tired.” And shocked that you’re so handsome. She tried not to gawk as she pushed away the image she’d conjured during the trip of a thin, pale man with spectacles; sweet and kind, to be sure, but hardly the specimen of masculinity that stood before her.

  Her heart in her throat, she gazed into his eyes and smiled. “Hello,” her voice cracked. “It’s so nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

  He smiled back. “My wagon is just over there. We’ll get the rest of your things and be on our way.”

  Leora’s eyes widened. She might as well get it over with. “No need.” She held up her satchel. “I travel light.”

  He eyed the satchel a moment and smiled again, seemingly unperturbed. “I see. Well then, shall we?” He offered her his arm.

  She caught herself staring at it a second or two, then finally took it. The contact made her heart lodge in her throat and a tingle run straight to her toes. It was one thing to watch Lottie on the arm of Sam Cooke when they first met, quite another to experience the sensation herself. If only Lottie could be here! But alas, she was happily married and, from the sounds of her letter, enjoying every minute of it. Now it was Leora’s turn.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Leora thought a moment. Her mind was so muddled by the man that she couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last. “Yes, I am. But I can wait if I have to.”

  “Nonsense, I cannot have my bride fainting at the altar. Besides, I’m afraid we’ll not be able to marry until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, of course not. To tell you the truth I hadn’t thought about when we would marry.” Probably because I wasn’t sure I’d get married at all, she added silently. At least you showed up.

  “I’m having an old teacher of mine marry us,” he said, then chuckled. “I can’t very well marry us myself. Reverend Wingate and his wife Lydia will be here tonight.”

  “Do they live around here?”

  “No, he teaches at the institute in Napa. I studied under him before going to seminary. Truly a godly man.”

  “I see. Tomorrow is fine. But if that’s the case, where will I spend tonight?”

  “There’s no need to worry – I’ve arranged for a room for you at the boarding house down the street from the church. Mrs. Pleet is a fine cook and a wonderful hostess. She helps me with church functions, especially the ones involving food.” He gave her a tentative smile. “You don’t happen to cook, do you?”

  Leora’s own smile was weak. “I can make soup. Very well.”

  “Is that all?” At least he didn’t sound disappointed.

  “Sandwiches, a few other things. There was no need for fancy meals where I come from.” No money for them, either …

  “Yes, about that. I’d like to hear more about the place you worked while we eat. In fact, we can go straight to Mrs. Pleet’s. She should be serving lunch about now.”

  “Yes, that would be nice.” Leora tried not to sound nervous. She didn’t like talking about the fire that had burned her former place of employment to the ground. In fact, she didn’t like talking about any fire. It was bad enough she and so many of her coworkers were suddenly out of a job and forced to become mail-order brides in order to survive, but to talk about the fire that killed her parents years before was too much.

  “Here we are,” he said as they reached a wagon. He put her satchel in the back, then helped her climb onto the wagon seat. Once she was settled, he climbed up himself and sat next to her. Their legs and shoulders touched for a moment and Leora felt that odd tingling sensation race to her toes again. She wondered if he felt it too as he scooted a few inches away.

  “I was surprised at how many people were on the train,” she said, trying to make conversation.

  “A lot of families have relatives that visit this time of year – some for Thanksgiving, others for Christmas, or both.”

  “How nice. I wonder where they come from.”

  “Sacramento, mostly. Others from back East or the Midwest. And of course, my own home state of Oregon.”

  Oregon … Leora sighed and thought of Lottie. Would she be able to see her sister next Christmas or Thanksgiving? Or would they forever be separated? Oh no, you don’t! she thought. Don’t start thinking like that again.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “No, I was just thinking about my sister. She became a mail-order bride too.”

  “Yes, I recall that from your letter. Did she marry well?”

  “Yes, very. I’m happy for her. She married a good man from a good family.”

  “I imagine that alleviated a lot of worry,” he said. “I gathered from your letter that you and your sister had never lived apart.”

  “Yes it’s true. This is the first time we’ve been separated. To be honest, we weren’t sure how we would handle it. She of course wants me to come visit her, but that’s something we can discuss later.” She hoped.

  “Of course. But first, let’s worry about getting married.”

  She smiled. He had a pleasant demeanor and seemed to be easygoing. She had to stop being such a negative ninny. But then, what if he was just on his best behavior? She supposed she’d find out over time. “Is it much farther?”

  “Mrs. Pleet’s? No, not far. You can wash up, eat something, then rest.”

  “Sounds lovely,” she said then busied herself with scanning her surroundings. The November sunshine was warm, the leaves of the trees bright with orange, yellow and red leaves. The road was littered with them and she watched as more rained down on the soft breeze. “It’s beautiful here.”

  “Trust me when I say, you haven’t seen anything yet. There are so many wonderful places to show you – I’m sure you’re going to love it here. I know I do.”

  She smiled at the excitement in his voice. “I can’t wait.”

  He gazed at her as he drove, a pleased expression on his face. “I’m glad to hear that. I like exploring new places, and was hoping I’d get a bride with an adventurous spirit. With so many attractions around here, I’ll probably only get a chance to show you a few before winter sets in.”

  “Are the winters cold here? Do you get snow?”

  “Coming from Massachusetts, I would think that you’re used to snow.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, we don’t get as much here as back East. It’s different year-to-year. Sometimes we might get a few inches, other times over a foot.”

  “Sounds like back East.”

  “Yes, I know it does. But we don’t get the wind like you do in some places back there. The climate here is much drier.”

  “You talk as if you’ve lived in both places. Have you?”

  “No, not myself, but my father was from Philadelphia, and I have friends in Boston. They write and like to complain to me about it.”

  “The winters there can be harsh, but not every winter.”

  He didn’t say anything, but only smiled in response. Could there be anything more mundane than talking about the weather? He probably wanted her to change the subject and was just being polite. But what else was there to talk about? She didn’t know this man aside from the one letter he�
�d sent, and the information in it was sparse at best. And perhaps inaccurate – he was a lot taller than what she would consider medium height. Broader too.

  Leora fought the urge to fidget and twist her reticule in her hands. What else had he told her that wasn’t on the mark? His eyes were definitely blue. She wouldn’t forget their piercing gaze anytime soon. His hair was dark and thick, from what little she could see poking out from under his hat. And, she had to admit, he was very pleasant. Why then, did she have such a feeling of trepidation? When she wasn’t feeling all tingly, that is.

  Maybe hearing about all those mishaps from her friends and former co-workers had gotten to her. But hadn’t they all turned out okay? Well, no – some hadn’t, at least not yet. And she hadn’t heard from everyone – what were their stories? And would she ever hear of what became of them?

  Only the good Lord knew.

  Two

  The Rev. Theron Drake made an effort not to gawk at his future bride. She was more beautiful than he could have ever hoped for. Of course, that wasn’t saying much – he’d talked himself into hoping for nothing. The only reason he’d sent for a mail-order bride in the first place was because the good folks of Nevada City had decided a single preacher wasn’t decent. After a new saloon opened in neighboring Grass Valley, one that served more than just drinks to its patrons, who was to say he wouldn’t sneak over there and plunge himself into sin?

  What he wanted to know was who would accuse him of such a thing. Hmmm … well, who had the biggest mouth in town? There were many contenders for that title, and he hadn’t been there long enough to sort them out. Besides, new folks were coming through all the time – some deciding to settle there, while others moved on to San Francisco or Sacramento or the San Joaquin Valley.