“And you said he’s hoping to reopen the mine?” Josie said, careful to keep her tone one of bland disinterest. “He’s not concerned about the dangers?”
“A lot’s changed in the last twelve years. That was before the days of square set timbering, so the mine was completely unsupported. New technology has made mining an infinitely safer occupation than it used to be.”
“Timber,” Josie said, quirking her eyebrow. “And that’s where you come in, Foreman Griffin?”
He chuckled. “You got it. The hills between Tahoe and the Ridge are a logger’s paradise. Winthrop’s got a camp out there felling trees and hauling them to the mill. We make the lumber, and then the Virginia and Truckee short line brings the lumber to the mine.”
“So the mill isn’t in town?”
“No, Winthrop’s got a horse waiting for me in town. I was hoping to stop in for lunch at Miz May’s before I head out, but I don’t suppose you’ll have time to get those stoves fired up before I need to leave.”
“No, I don’t suppose I will,” Josie said with a laugh. “But I understand Miz May already has a woman helping her in the kitchens part-time. She has two young children that need looking after, so I’ll be taking her place. Regardless, though,” she teased, “it must be close to two o’clock by now. Lunchtime is long over. You should have packed something to eat on the trip.”
Mr. Griffin grinned, an almost sheepish expression that made his face appear boyish. “Well, I’ll have to stop by the boarding house after you settle in to get a sample of your cooking, Miss Lane. I hope to make it into town a few times a month. Maybe more, time permitting.”
Josie flushed, but didn’t have the chance to reply. Just then, a knock came from above their heads, and the driver, who’d turned slightly in his seat to rap on the roof of the stage, called out, “Rattlesnake Ridge coming up!”
Josie turned quickly to the window, all thoughts of Jim Griffin fleeing from her mind. This was it. The town she’d traveled nearly two thousand miles to see. She’d left behind everything and everyone she’d ever known to chase down this dream. A chance to make good on everything her uncle had taught her. To make a new life for herself, one without hours of thankless work in the fields, one without the judging eyes of neighbors. A life where Josie, and no one else, would be in charge of her own destiny.
Uncle Gideon had said Rattlesnake Ridge wasn’t much to look at. He hadn’t been wrong.
Ten minutes later, the stagecoach driver was handing Josie her bag from the rooftop storage as dust settled around her skirts in clouds heavy enough to make her cough. The air here was so dry it seemed to leach the moisture straight out of her skin, a stark contrast from the oppressive humidity she’d left behind. There was no station—the driver had said eventually the stage route would run parallel to the V&T freight line and drop off and pick up passengers at the Rattlesnake Ridge station, but as the stretch of rail running through town was still under construction, the best he could do was stop in the center of town. There wasn’t much traffic to speak of in the town, so there was no interference with his plan.
Josie looked around the small, almost desolate intersection as Mr. Griffin disembarked after her and the driver handed him his own travel bag. There appeared to be only two streets in the town, just as Uncle Gideon had described. The junction where she now stood said Hill Street and Main in faded letters on a worn clapboard sign. On the north side of Hill Street stood a brick building with a large window in the front. Across the glass the words Garrett’s Bank were painted in filigree. A small placard reading Assay Office was propped in the corner. Across from the bank on the south side stood a saloon, which sounded busy even at this time of day. Josie wondered with mild amusement if anyone around these parts had ever heard of the temperance movement.
As the stagecoach bearing the older couple to Virginia City pulled away, kicking up more dust in its wake, Mr. Griffin turned toward the building kitty-corner to the saloon, on the northeast intersection of Hill Street and Main. “I believe that’s the boarding house, Miss Lane,” he said, gesturing to a two-story wood building with aging paint. Adjacent to the building was a small pasture surrounded by a likewise aging but otherwise well-maintained fence. A cow stood near the fence, chewing lazily, and Josie could hear the clucking of chickens nearby—likely in the same pasture beside the boarding house.
She swallowed and squared her shoulders. Come what may, she’d arrived.
“Shall I escort you home?” Mr. Griffin asked in a teasing voice. Josie grinned. The front steps to the boarding house were no more than ten yards away.
“Please do. Oh, I can manage,” she said when he began to reach for her carpetbag. Mr. Griffin tipped his hat and the two crossed the dusty square and climbed the three wide steps up to the boarding house’s front porch.
As she reached the top step, the door opened, and Josie was surprised to see a very pretty Chinese woman standing in the doorway wearing a neatly-pressed calico dress. “Hello,” the woman said. “You must be Josie.” She spoke with the clipped tones of a Yankee, but otherwise had no discernible accent.
Josie blinked. “Miz May?” she asked. The woman nodded with a smile, then glanced past Josie at Mr. Griffin, who had frozen on the bottom step. Her smile wavered slightly.
“I’m sorry, I was under the impression you were unattached. I’m not sure I have accommodations for a husband and wife—”
“Oh, no, no,” Josie stammered, her face burning. “He’s not—”
“I’m just a fellow traveler, ma’am,” Mr. Griffin added quickly. “I’m the new foreman out at the lumber mill. Miss Lane and I came in on the same stage. I just walked her over here, and now I’ll be on my way. Mr. Winthrop will be expecting me.” Looking up at Miz May, he asked, “You wouldn’t be able to point me to the public stables, would you? Jacob Winthrop arranged for me to take a horse from there.”
“They’re about half a mile west down Hill Street. To get to the mill, keep going west about another four miles or so. Hill Street turns into a track into the foothills. Just stick to that, it will get you there.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Much obliged.” He lifted his hat to her, then to Josie. “Nice to meet you, Miss Lane. I’ll have to stop by again soon to get a sample of that cooking of yours.”
Josie nodded at him, still blushing, and turned to follow Miz May into the boarding house.
“My, my,” Miz May said, closing the door behind them. Josie blinked as her eyes adjusted from the blinding afternoon sun to the dim vestibule in which she now stood. “Mr. Winthrop’s new foreman certainly is handsome, isn’t he? And so tall! Though I suppose he didn’t seem so to you. You’re rather tall yourself, aren’t you? Almost as tall as Barb.”
“Did someone say my name?” a woman’s voice drifted into the vestibule from the hallway. Josie let out a silent sigh of relief at the interruption, as she was quite unsure how to respond to Miz May’s comment about Jim Griffin. It was uncharacteristic for a man to leave her so tongue-tied, but Miz May was right—he was very handsome. For a brief moment she felt a small pang of disappointment that his work at the mill would likely prevent him from coming into town very often. Then she snapped to her senses. She wasn’t on a hunt for a husband. She’d waited eleven years and traveled two thousand miles to get here. She had more important things to worry about. She was here to make a fortune for herself.
But first, she’d need to survive the day at Miz May’s boarding house.
“In here, Barb,” Miz May called to the woman who’d spoken. “Josie is here.”
“Oh, wonderful!” A tall blonde woman appeared in the narrow entry to the vestibule. She could be my older sister, Josie thought as she looked the woman over. She was indeed a few inches taller than Josie, with hair a similar shade to her own, though Josie would call this woman’s hair more of a honey hue than her own straw-colored locks.
“Nice to meet you, Josie. I’m Barbara Jones—Barb for short. I’ve been filling in in the kitchens while Miz May
searched for a new full-time cook.” She held out a hand for Josie to shake. It was slightly sticky. “I’m just doing some baking,” said the woman with a laugh. “You’ll have fresh rolls to serve with dinner tonight.”
“Barb lives upstairs with her children, Ishmael and Isabelle,” Miz May explained. “She’s been staying with us since her husband passed on a couple years back. The twins are six now, so they’re a bit of a handful, as you can imagine. And Barb also works evenings at the saloon across the way and seeing as we’re lacking a schoolteacher at the moment, she’s been seeing to the twins’ education herself as well.”
“You do have your hands full,” Josie said sympathetically.
“Just a bit,” Barb replied with a laugh. “It was a godsend when you replied to our advertisement. We definitely need the help and getting someone with your qualifications was beyond what we ever could have hoped for.”
Josie hoped her red face wasn’t visible in the semi-darkness of the vestibule. “Yes, well,” she said quickly, “I’ll work hard.”
“That’s all we ask for,” Barb said cheerfully. She sniffed the air. “Better get back to that before it burns.”
“I’ll get Josie situated in her room and then we’ll be down to help,” Miz May said. She led Josie down the short hall to the stairs as Barb hurried back in the direction of the kitchen. “Barb did the milking this morning, but we’ll need some churning done this afternoon. Barb will need help with the washing up, too. Do you think you’ll be up to cooking tonight, or are you too tired from the trip?” She smiled at Josie’s expression. “You have been on the road for a long time, haven’t you? Barb’s at the saloon tonight, but I think I can manage supper if you need to rest.”
Josie shook her head. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t put it off forever. She’d been more bone tired than this. “I can do it, Miz May.”
The shorter woman smiled appreciatively. “You do have the pioneer spirit. Thank you, Josie. Your room’s just in here…”
She withdrew a skeleton key from the pocket of her skirt and unlocked the room. The walls were papered in a cheery yellow with delicate flowers. A simple four-poster bed stood against one wall; across from it was a commode with a wash basin and a small mirror hanging above it. A kerosene lamp stood on a table beside the bed. Across from the door was a narrow double-hung window looking out over the pasture. Josie went over to this and looked down at the yard. In the pasture two small children with golden brown hair were chasing each other around a scraggly ash tree. These must be Barb’s twins.
“I’ll let you get cleaned up and settled. I’m sure you must be hungry, too. We’ve got some leftover chicken from lunch if you’d like,” Miz May said from the doorway.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Josie. Miz May closed the door, and Josie let out a sigh and sank onto the bed. She’d done it. She was here. And there was a pile of work waiting for her.
That’s no different from back home, she reminded herself. But now you’re here on your own terms. And once your work is done, your time is your own. The thought gave her a rush of energy. Grinning to herself, she removed her sunbonnet and tossed her dusty carpet bag onto the bed—an action she regretted an instant later when a cloud of silt rose up around the bag and settled on the fresh bedspread—and opened it. Inside were her meager belongings: her good Sunday dress, a warm woolen shawl for the winter, a fresh set of undergarments, and her nightclothes. She folded these neatly into the drawers in the commode.
Nestled at the bottom of the bag were two books: her mother’s worn copy of the Bible, and a smaller book, even more tatty, leather-bound and monogrammed on the front cover with the initials GZK.
Gideon Zebedee Kingsley. Her uncle’s journal.
Everything she needed was right there in those pages.
She smiled to herself, running a finger across the soft leather. Then she tucked it into the commode among her clothes, set the Bible down on her night table, and turned to face her reflection in the looking glass on the wall. She looked a fright, but it was nothing a little soap and water wouldn’t cure.
“I’m here, Rattlesnake Ridge,” she said to the empty air. “You’d better be ready for me.”
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Their fortunes lie out west...and so do their hearts.
* * *
Arriving from Arkansas by Elisa Keyston
Josephine Lane arrived in Rattlesnake Ridge under false pretenses. As far as the townspeople know, she’s simply the new cook for the local boarding house. Nobody has to know the secret her late uncle shared with her before his death or how that same secret could make her the wealthiest person in the state of Nevada.
Jim Griffin works hard as a foreman at the local lumber mill. He also works hard to keep his real identity as an undercover lawman hidden as he closes in on his brother’s murderer. When the killer gets close, the last thing Jim needs is a distraction–especially the pretty blonde cook at the boarding house.
Jim and Josie’s separate secrets just might bring them closer than either could have predicted. But will they be able to resist falling in love when so much is already at stake for the both of them?
If you like historical romance with a touch of intrigue, then you’ll love Arriving from Arkansas. Get your copy and start reading today!
Get your copy at sweetpromisepress.com/PioneerBrides
* * *
Coming from California by Catherine Bilson
When Daisy Jackson applied for the role of Rattlesnake Ridge’s new schoolmistress, she may have omitted a few important details, like her young age and lack of teaching experience. And it certainly doesn’t help that the town council holds her mixed-ethnicity against her, too.
Luke Rockford fell head over heels the very moment he laid eyes on Daisy, but he wasn’t the only one. His rival, Deputy Grant Watson also set his sights on the pretty teacher. The arrogant lawman is accustomed to getting what he wants, even if he has to bend the rules to claim it, from the job promised to Luke to any woman in town.
With so much to do before the school year begins, Daisy hardly knows which way to turn. Can she put down roots and fall in love before the town council runs her out of Rattlesnake Ridge?
If you like strong female characters, cheeky cowboys, and dastardly deputies then you’re sure to enjoy reading Coming from California. Get your copy to learn which man wins Daisy’s heart!
Get your copy at sweetpromisepress.com/PioneerBrides
* * *
Moving from Maryland by Christine Sterling
Gracie Pickett followed her dreams of being a physician all the way to Rattlesnake Ridge. Learning the trade was the easy part, however. Convincing the small pioneer town that she’s up to the job is the tough part, especially when a rude, arrogant, oh-so-handsome widower and his three adorable boys seem to make it
their mission to make her new life far more difficult than she ever anticipated.
Barrett Wright is busy managing his understaffed ranch while also hoping to find a wife to tend to his rambunctious sons. When the town council tasks him with finding a new doctor, he finds the perfect man for the job–until he learns the new doctor is a woman! Barrett is determined to see Gracie replaced with someone more suitable, if only he can tear his eyes away from her long enough to get the job done.
Gracie has no intention of giving up her new practice. When an accident puts her medical skills to the test, will she be able to prove to her biggest rival that she’s the right person for the job… and his heart?
If you like enemies-to-lovers plots in historical settings, then you’re sure to love Moving from Maryland. Grab your copy and start reading today!
Get your copy at sweetpromisepress.com/PioneerBrides
* * *
Riding from Richmond by Nan O’Berry
Caledonia McBride thought war destroyed her chance at happiness. But then an ad for marriageable women offers hope for a second chance, and soon letters from a lonely rancher fill her heart. Ready for a second chance, Caledonia pulls up her Virginia roots and travels west toward the promise of a new beginning.
Maxwell Barringer is a good friend. When three well-meaning ranch hands accidentally bring a young woman to town to be the bride of a man who's already married, he steps in to help his friends save face until they can raise the money to send her back to Virginia. The only problem is, the more he gets to know Miss Caledonia McBride, the harder it is for him to imagine her leaving.
Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6 Page 16
