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    Montana Brides : A Clean Western Mail Order Bride: Mail Order Brides of Montana, #1
    Montana Brides : A Clean Western Mail Order Bride: Mail Order Brides of Montana, #1
    Montana Brides : A Clean Western Mail Order Bride: Mail Order Brides of Montana, #1
    Ebook71 pages1 hour

    Montana Brides : A Clean Western Mail Order Bride: Mail Order Brides of Montana, #1

    By Emma West

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    About this ebook

    In a moment of recklessness at the poker table, rugged mountain man Jake, a resident of Montana's wild frontier, posted a notice for a mail-order bride, a move he now wishes to retract.

     

    His solitary life in the wilderness and his unyielding heart have no vacancy for a wife.

     

    Meanwhile, in bustling Boston, Marianne stumbles upon Jake's notice. Driven by the dire circumstances of poverty and the well-being of her two younger sisters, she decides to brave the wild west and board a train to Montana to meet Jake. Her daunting challenge is to not only convince this rugged mountain man that she's the perfect pioneer wife for him, but also to find suitable frontiersmen as husbands for her sisters.

     

    This series guarantees no betrayal, no unresolved endings, and robustly satisfying happily-ever-afters.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEmma West
    Release dateJan 10, 2018
    ISBN9781386446088
    Montana Brides : A Clean Western Mail Order Bride: Mail Order Brides of Montana, #1
    Author

    Emma West

    Sign-up for Emma´s newsletter by copying the link into your browser - http://eepurl.com/bye8C1.  Emma lives in Colorado with her family. When she is not writing about the wild west and researching about past times. Then, she is travelling thinking of new story ideas.  Emma loves to hear from her readers, so post a message or connect with her on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Emma-West/753559004754665.

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    Book preview

    Montana Brides - Emma West

    1

    MONTANA, 1882

    JAKE

    Jake had never drunk so much alcohol in his life. Damn Nathan and Brian and their poker game. His friends had convinced him to put an ad in the paper for a mail-order bride.

    Of course, it helped that his brain was muddled with alcohol at the time. Now, his head pounded with every step as he strode against the bright rising sun to the post office.

    Yesterday, he’d been conned into placing the ad for a wife, and it sounded sane after four glasses of whiskey…or was it five?

    Trinity River City was nestled in the Montana Territory, complete with a bustling post office that doubled as a newspaper, a modest church, a cozy inn, a well-stocked general store, a tireless mill, and a lively bar.

    And the only women in the town were Mrs. Nancy who ran the inn and was married to George who owned the bar, and Mrs. Jefferson, a widow, who ran the post office/telegraph station as if she was a school Meister who got the most money for her scowls.

    The coarse grittiness coating the inside of Jake's mouth was a welcome distraction from the relentless pounding in his skull.

    With every resounding clang of his blacksmith’s hammer against the stubborn metal, a jarring throb pulsed through his temples.

    How would he get anything done today? He needed to fill his orders for horseshoes, and a pair of stirrups for Brian.

    First, he just wanted to get the ad taken out of the paper and get on with his life. Many men on the frontier ordered their wives through the mail: but Jake never wanted to or thought any good would come of it.

    When he pushed open the door, a bell chimed, and he forced back a wince.

    Morning Jake. Mrs. Jefferson nodded. What can I do for you today?

    Morning. Jake rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. I made a mistake. I need to remove the ad I placed before closing yesterday.

    Instead of answering, Mrs. Jefferson placed her hands on her hips and looked down her thin nose at Jake. You’ve been without a woman’s company for far too long, Jake, Mrs. Jefferson scolded, her thin lips pursed in disapproval. Don't think your late-night solitudes go unnoticed. You need a wife, not more nights spent nursing a bottle.

    Look, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have run the ad. Nathan and Brian bet me and I lost. He leaned forward on the counter since the room started spinning. Pull the ad and forget about it.

    It’s not that simple. She shook her head.

    Sure it is; just remove it.

    All the ads for the week go in on Friday through the telegraph. It’s Saturday, so your ad made it to the paper. And since you were so boastful last night, if you don’t remember, you had me send it to all the major newspapers back east.

    He smacked his hand on the counter and she jumped. Damn. How do I stop it?

    You don’t. She smoothed her gray hair. You let it run its course and it’ll be done in a week.

    He shut his eyes tight, a haunting parade of faceless women flickering in his mind's eye, all poring over his hastily written ad, desperation etched on their faces.

    At least, he wouldn’t answer any letters if they came. That’s what Jesse had done in the next town and landed a wife who refused to let him drink on Sundays.

    Jake didn’t need anyone telling him what he could and couldn’t do. He came here to be on his own. Not cater to a woman. He’d tried that once and the memory still burned him whenever he thought of what he lost with her death.

    Give it some time. Mrs. Jefferson winked. I’m sure you’ll meet the right girl and settle down, not be drinking all night.

    I don’t want any woman. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t write an ad for her.

    Mrs. Jefferson bristled. It’s a perfectly fine way to get a wife. Exchange some letters so you learn about each other’s character. She shook her finger at him. If you write letters, you better be sober and not lie or exaggerate. Maybe I should read them over before you send them, give you some tips.

    No. I don’t want any wife or letters or any of this nonsense. He cursed and stomped toward the door.

    Jake Thorn!

    With a glance over his shoulder, she smacked a piece of paper down on the counter. You’d better take care of this before you leave.

    Reluctantly, Jake marched back. Mrs. Jefferson tossed a scrap paper with black ink scrawled across it toward him. However, with his headache, it was hard for him to comprehend what the words said. What is this?

    "It’s

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