by Judith Stacy
Praise for the authors of SPRING BRIDES
Judith Stacy
“A fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”
—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi
“Judith Stacy is one author worth seeking out.”
—theromancereader.com
Cheryl Reavis
“A sensual, emotionally involving romance.”
—Library Journal on The Captive Heart
“Cheryl Reavis delivers a rich reading experience with fresh characters, effective conflict and a well-developed plot.”
—Romantic Times
Pam Crooks
“With its nonstop action and a hold-your-breath climax, Crooks’ story is unforgettable. She speaks to every woman’s heart with a powerful tale that reflects the depth of a woman’s love for her child and her man.”
—Romantic Times on The Mercenary’s Kiss
“…a writer of great talent, originality and intelligence.”
—Romantic Times
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JUDITH STACY
has gotten many of the plot ideas for her nineteen romance novels while taking leisurely drives and long afternoon naps. When those methods fail, she is forced to turn to chocolate for inspiration. Judith is married to her high school sweetheart. They have two daughters and live in Southern California.
CHERYL REAVIS
is an award-winning short-story and romance author who also writes under the name of Cinda Richards. She describes herself as a late bloomer who played in her first piano recital at the tender age of thirty. “We had to line up by height—I was the third smallest kid,” she says. “After that, there was no stopping me. I immediately gave myself permission to attempt my other heart’s desire—to write.” Her Silhouette Special Edition novel A Crime of the Heart reached millions of readers in Good Housekeeping magazine. Her books The Prisoner and The Bride Fair, both from Harlequin Historical, and A Crime of the Heart and Patrick Gallagher’s Widow, both Silhouette Special Edition novels, are all Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award winners. A former public health nurse, Cheryl makes her home in North Carolina with her husband.
PAM CROOKS
While expecting her first child more years back than she cares to count, Pam read her very first romance novel. She has been in love with them ever since. Her childhood was spent in the ranch country of western Nebraska, where she became fascinated with the Old West and the cowboys who lived it. Pam still lives in Nebraska with her husband (who is not a cowboy), four daughters, one son-in-law and her very mellow golden Lab mix, Spencer. She loves to hear from her readers, and responds to each and every one. Contact Pam via e-mail from her Web site, www.pamcrooks.com, or snail mail at P.O. Box 540122, Omaha, NE 68154.
SPRING BRIDES
Judith Stacy
Cheryl Reavis
Pam Crooks
CONTENTS
THREE BRIDES AND A WEDDING DRESS
Judith Stacy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
THE WINTER HEART
Cheryl Reavis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
MCCORD’S DESTINY
Pam Crooks
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
THREE BRIDES AND A WEDDING DRESS
Judith Stacy
To David for all our yesterdays and all our tomorrows.
To Judy and Stacy for all the joy you’ve given me.
Chapter One
California, 1887
Her husband. The man she would marry.
Anna Kingsley lurched upright on the train seat, her mind racing. Good gracious, what did the man look like?
His face. She couldn’t picture his face.
Panic shortened Anna’s breath as another thought surfaced. What sort of woman was she? What sort of wife would she be if she couldn’t recall what her own husband-to-be looked like? Even if she hadn’t seen him in months.
A wave of calm swept through her. Really, she already knew what sort of wife she would be. And the fact that she couldn’t remember the man’s face at the moment was the least of her problems—and his.
Anna leaned her head against the windowpane and gazed out at the awakening countryside. Spring had brought a faint blush of green to the landscape. She’d watched nearly two thousand miles of scenery pass by her window since leaving Virginia, and her journey wasn’t over yet.
After so many days on the train, sleeping fitfully, washing from a bucket in the ladies’ room, spending her money on the overpriced foods provided by vendors at the train stations along the way, Anna longed for the things she’d taken for granted, the things she’d left behind. A soak in a hot bath, a meal seated at a table and a feather mattress seemed like heaven right now.
Nothing about the trip was as she imagined it. Except her destination. That hadn’t changed.
Henry Thornton. Anna mulled the name over in her mind, thankful that she had no trouble remembering at least that much about her intended.
Henry Thornton. Mrs. Henry Thornton. Anna Thornton. Little Thorntons to follow?
A chill passed through Anna and she forced away her uncomfortable thoughts about her journey to California. She consoled herself with the knowledge that whatever awaited her as the wife of Henry Thornton was far better than what she’d left behind in Virginia.
“Excuse me? Miss Kingsley?” a voice called.
Anna smiled as Mrs. Tomlin, another passenger on the train, sat down next to her. Throughout this westward trek, the one constant was the friendly passengers.
Mrs. Tomlin turned her cherubic face to Anna. “May I look over those catalogs of yours again, dear?”
“Certainly.” Anna drew her satchel onto her lap and rifled through it. She’d packed her journal, writing supplies, a number of books and every catalog she could get her hands on to occupy herself on the long train trip. “Any one in particular?” she asked, holding up several.
“These will do fine,” Mrs. Tomlin replied, taking them all. “Wish I had something more to trade with you.”
Anna had already read Mrs. Tomlin’s books, plus the newspaper her husband had bought at the last stop.
“I need to catch up on my journal,” Anna said.
Mrs. Tomlin clutched the catalogs in both hands and sighed contentedly. “No wonder you brought so many of these with you. You’ll be starting a brand-new life, just you and your new husband. You must be very excited.”
During the long hours on the train the two of them had chatted and Anna had told her about her upcoming nuptials.
“Yes, I’m excited,” she said, hoping she actually sounded that way.
Mrs. Tomlin sighed again. “And to think, all those women in California, and Mr. Thornton wanted you. You must have been very flattered when he proposed.”
Stunned was what she’d been.
Anna had met H
enry Thornton last year when he’d traveled to Virginia on business. After church one Sunday his host had invited Anna, her father and brother to supper. She’d found Henry pleasant and interesting as he’d shared stories of the highly successful lumber business he owned in California. The man had extolled the wonders of his adopted state, the freedom, the opportunities. He’d said it was a place where a person could find himself, and anyone could build something grand with his own wits.
Anna had found herself hanging on to his every word that evening at supper. Opportunities for everyone? Could such a place actually exist?
After Henry returned home, he surprised Anna by writing to her. They exchanged letters. Nothing personal, though. Nothing that prepared Anna for the day her father had appeared in the parlor and announced that Henry Thornton had written to him, asking for Anna’s hand in marriage.
“Go ahead and marry him, if you want,” Papa had said with the indifferent shrug she’d seen all her life.
Since Mama had died several years ago, Papa had struggled to keep the family business going. Her brother’s help seemed no help at all. Neither of them allowed Anna to do more than fill in occasionally at the store. They didn’t let her take over her mother’s position there, even after Anna completed her courses at Miss Purtle’s Academy for Young Ladies.
The two men had little time or use for her. Their family home was quiet and empty much of the time. She was almost twenty years old now, and her few brushes with romance had come to nothing. None of the eligible men in town had showed any interest in her at all lately; she wondered, at times, if her father’s poor business reputation and her brother’s rumored gambling contributed to her lack of suitors. Anna was left to watch her friends marry and move on to their exciting new lives, leaving her marooned in hers.
Yet accepting Henry Thornton’s marriage proposal—and the accompanying move to California—had been the most difficult decision of her life. How did any woman make this tremendous, life-altering choice? How could she assure herself that she could be a good wife? She’d asked her friends, her aunts and cousins, but no one had given her any help. In the end, she’d decided to take a chance and marry Henry.
Anna hoped with all her heart neither she nor Henry would regret her decision.
Her friends had given her bridal gifts at a tea in her honor. Papa had commissioned the finest seamstress in Richmond to make the wedding dress of her dreams. Anna had turned her hope chest into a hope trunk, stuffed it until the hinges strained, and headed west.
Mrs. Tomlin patted Anna’s hand now, jarring her from her thoughts. “You’re nervous. I can tell. We all were. It’s understandable. I’m sure you’ll make a fine wife.”
Anna managed a small smile but no reply. She had no idea whether she’d make a fine wife or not. How could she know? Even now, as the time drew near, she didn’t know. She’d fretted about it endlessly.
Henry Thornton hadn’t swept her off her feet with wild romantic notions, and she hadn’t pined away for him after he left Virginia. But he was a good, decent man and Anna intended to be a good, decent wife to him.
Even if she didn’t yet know how to do that.
Even if she couldn’t remember what he looked like at the moment.
Cade Riker didn’t bother to look up from the stack of papers on his desk when he heard his office door open, then slam shut. Another problem. He knew it. And he’d already had all the problems he could take for one day.
“Not now,” Cade grumbled.
“There’s a problem.”
The familiar voice of his brother caused Cade to look up. Ben was only a year younger. Tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed, he looked like Cade. From a distance, most people couldn’t tell them apart.
“Whatever it is,” Cade told him, “it can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” Ben said. “You’ve got to do something about this—now.”
Cade’s jaw tightened. “Like hell I do.”
Ben glared right back at him, one of the few men at the company—or in the town of Branford, for that matter—who’d dare do so.
“You know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important,” Ben said, in that reasonable way of his. He waved his hand, encompassing the office. “I know what’s going on around here, same as you.”
Cade couldn’t argue the point, although Ben didn’t know the huge problem Cade had stumbled onto only this morning. He and Ben had run the business together for two years. Neither kept secrets from the other. Until now. Cade didn’t dare tell anyone what he’d discovered.
Ben dropped a telegram atop the papers piled on Cade’s desk. “Henry’s wife is coming.”
“Christ…” Cade squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
“Today.”
Cade rocked back in his chair, his gut tightening as it did lately when Henry Thornton came to mind.
“Cousin Henry’s wife is coming?”
Cade’s gaze swung across the room as the voice of his youngest brother, Kyle, drew his attention.
“When did you get here? Aren’t you supposed to be in school, boy?”
“His wife?” Kyle asked, walking over, the broom clutched in his hand.
Cade looked hard at Kyle. “I expect an answer when I ask you something.”
“We’ve got a bigger problem to deal with.” Ben tapped his finger against the telegram. “Ol’ man Latimer at the express office just gave me this telegram addressed to Henry. It’s from her. She’s coming in on the afternoon train. And she’s expecting to marry Henry when she gets here.”
Cade shoved out of his chair. “What the hell do you expect me to do about it?”
“Somebody’s got to tell her,” Ben said.
“Can we keep her?” Kyle asked, his eyes wide.
“Get the preacher to do it,” Cade said to Ben.
“Henry’s our cousin,” Ben said. “It’s up to us to handle this.”
“Then you go talk to her,” Cade declared.
Ben drew back a little. “You know I’m courting Emma Stokes. I can’t be seen in public with another woman.”
“We’re keeping her, aren’t we?” Kyle asked again.
Cade turned away from his desk and paced across the room and back. He rubbed his forehead, then looked at Ben.
“You need to do this,” Ben said softly.
Cade glared at his brother for a moment, then bit back another curse, grabbed his hat from the peg beside the door and headed outside.
Ben was most always right, and he sure as hell was right about this.
Chapter Two
Anna pressed her face against the window as the town of Branford came into view. The noise level rose as passengers prepared for their arrival at the station.
The farmland, the mountains, the deep river they’d crossed all gave way. Wooden houses on the edge of town passed, then finally Branford itself appeared.
Henry had assured her the town was very prosperous. How else could he have built his lumber business into the biggest in the state?
The locomotive’s whistle pierced the air as the train rolled to a stop at the platform outside the depot. Steam hissed from the engine, sending up a cloud of mist.
She scanned the faces of the people waiting on the platform. Henry? Was that him? Yes—no, that wasn’t him. Anna bit her bottom lip. She didn’t see Henry. At least she didn’t think she saw him. Surely she’d recognize her own husband-to-be when she actually saw him in person.
As the other passengers made their way to the doors at either end of the car, Anna moved into the aisle. When she passed the conductor, he spoke before she had the chance.
“It’s fine. Perfectly fine. It will be unloaded with the other baggage,” he told her, none too kindly, then pushed ahead of the other passengers and out the door.
Anna supposed she couldn’t blame him. She’d made a bit of a nuisance of herself, worrying over her trunks back in the baggage car.
But why shouldn’t she worry? Inside one of them lay her beloved wedding dress, which
her father had purchased for her. Anna wasn’t about to abandon her grand gown to the leaky, drafty baggage car and not check on it. Even if it annoyed the conductor, who had to escort her back and forth.
Stepping down from the passenger car, Anna planted her feet firmly on the platform. People rushed into the arms of loved ones, laughter rose. Folks pushed past, anxious to claim baggage and be gone.
Anna noticed a knot of young women about her own age giggling, obviously anticipating someone—or something—grand to emerge from the train. Would these women be her friends? Had Henry told them about his new wife?
Anna remained near the passenger car, holding her satchel, watching and waiting. The crowd thinned. Passengers continuing to the train’s next stop disappeared, presumably searching the town for a decent meal. Baggage was carted away. Supply wagons pulled up to the boxcars as porters unloaded cargo.
A wail rose from the crowd of young women, followed by groans and rising chatter. The conductor waved his hands for silence, but to no avail. Still Anna waited.
A little knot of worry grew in her stomach. Had Henry not gotten her telegram? She’d sent it from the last stop; the train schedule was too undependable to send it any earlier. She’d thought that would give him plenty of time to get to the station and meet her train.
Or had Henry suspected her shortcomings?
Minutes dragged by. Anna’s gaze swept the platform, the station. Her worry intensified.
Henry would be as anxious as she to start their new life together. The opportunities roamed through Anna’s mind now as they had during the long train trip.
He’d probably stopped to pick flowers for her, she decided. He’d do that, wouldn’t he?
She pushed the thought aside. In truth, she didn’t know if he would or not.
Time slipped by. Should she go inside the station and speak to the stationmaster? Find the sheriff? Or maybe—
A man strode around the corner of the depot heading her way. Anna gasped.
