A Mail-Order Illusion (Miners to Millionaires Book 8)

by Janelle Daniels

  A Mail-Order Illusion

  Miners to Millionaires - Book 8

  Janelle Daniels

  Dream Cache Publishing

  She chases off suitors faster than she finds them…

  One by one, Ivan’s brides are leaving the house, and Violet Morgan despairs of ever finding a match. While walking along the river, debating whether to give up and return to her restrictive life and manipulative parents, the ground gives way, plunging her into the icy water…and she can’t swim.

  He wonders what more there is in life…

  Frustrated from a lack of direction in his life, Jimmy Thornton knows he needs something more. But when he rescues the sharp-tongued, and even more sharp-witted, woman from the river, he realizes what he’s been missing. In exchange for etiquette lessons, he agrees to teach her to swim with one catch—the lessons will remain a secret.

  Sneaking around together, they form a friendship and realize first impressions aren’t always accurate. But when Violet’s ex-fiancé suddenly appears and threatens to tear them apart, Jimmy and Violet must decide if their relationship is purely platonic, or if love can truly overcome all.

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  To Dan.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Titles by Janelle Daniels

  Chapter 1

  Violet Morgan kicked a pebble with the side of her ankle boot, watching it roll down the slope, before plopping into the steadily flowing river. Lifting her hem an inch so she could see the target, she connected with another rock. It wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying to kick something if she missed her mark.

  It was bright outside, the perfect spring day in Promise Creek, and the river for which the town was named, flowed high with the nearby mountain’s snow run-off. Birds chirped in the trees, and the flowers, while beautiful, were annoyingly cheerful.

  She sighed.

  There is nothing wrong with the flowers or anything else concerning the outdoors, she scolded herself, knowing she was being ornery. It wasn’t nature’s fault it shined so bright. Violet just wished she had someone to share it with.

  But that future seemed further and further away every day she remained in the mining town. What was she still doing here anyway? It wasn’t as if she were courting anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact. It seemed as if the men in town wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t blame them. She had been a beast when she’d first arrived. She grabbed a glossy leaf off a tree and shredded it anxiously.

  If she could go back to when she’d first arrived—

  No. I can only go forward.

  There was no going back to anything and no use wasting time on wishing she could. There were no new beginnings here. How had everything gotten so tangled in her life? She was Violet Morgan, daughter of Elliot Morgan. This should be easy. She’d grown up in the highest social circles, her family was wealthy beyond imagination, and she’d never wanted for anything.

  Although, she could see now, those things had only hurt her. And while she’d come a long way from the spoiled, rich brat who’d arrived in Promise Creek last year, that girl still pushed to the surface occasionally.

  She stopped and closed her eyes, close to the river’s edge, taking in the sounds of nature: the rush of the river, the calling of birds, twigs snapping as animals scurried around. They were sounds she’d never heard grown up. They were as foreign as the clogged air, crowded streets, and abject poverty of New York City were to her now.

  Did she really want to go back there? The letter she’d written to her parents, asking them for funds for a return trip was on her desk at home, but she was sure it would end up in the waste bin as all the others had. If she truly wanted to go back, all she had to do was post it. She was sure her father would love to have her under his thumb again. So why didn’t she mail it? There was nothing for her here. Returning to New York seemed to be the only option for her future, yet even the thought made her ill.

  She glanced around the thickly treed area and realized how far she’d wandered from town. Willow and Juliette probably wondered where she was. The nine brides Ivan had duped into arriving in Promise Creek on the same day, three days after he accidentally passed away, had stuck together. In a town full of unmarried miners—who were all wanting wives, but women were scarce in the area—they’d had to rely on each other. The arrangement’s success had surprised Violet. She never would have guessed, when the town had offered them Ivan’s house and mine on the condition they all stayed, that they truly all would. Now six of them were happily married, along with another bride she’d never met. Seven blissful brides in all.

  But Violet wasn’t any closer to marital bliss than when she’d first arrived. In fact, she seemed even further away. At least when she’d arrived, there’d been a whole town full of men who’d been interested in her. If she hadn’t chased them away, perhaps things would be different. She herself might’ve been married long ago.

  At least I finally have my own room. That was the only benefit of being one of the last to marry. They’d all shared rooms when there were nine of them in the house, but that wasn’t necessary now. And she was finally getting a little more sleep now that Sadie and her son had moved to Owen’s ranch after they’d married two weeks ago.

  Her lips twitched as she thought of Sadie’s beautiful child, Jack. Violet loved holding the infant, brushing her fingers through his downy-soft hair, or gently pinching his adorable baby rolls. At first, Violet hadn’t known how to handle the baby and had refused to hold him for fear of hurting him, but one night when Sadie had been so tired she hadn’t woken to the baby’s cries, Violet had entered the room, saw how exhausted Sadie was, and had picked up the baby in all his righteous anger.

  And that was all it took. Seeing his small fists clenched as he shouted to the rafters, his delicate skin splotched red from his fury, tossed her straight into love.

  Funny how she felt bonded to him and comfortable when he was howling at the world. It was, after all, how she normally felt inside.

  She let out a soft puff of air as she braced herself at the edge of the river, grateful it had warmed up enough she couldn’t see her breath. Her eyes wandered the space as she contemplated her options. If she left, she would leave all this. The other brides, Promise Creek, and Jack.

  But would it matter? Friendships withered, she had no other ties to the town, and Jack wasn’t her child. It was clear if she stayed here, she’d never have a child of her own. She’d not given much thought to such a thing in the past, too caught up in her own life and selfish pursuits to care, but she’d changed so much since then. Promise Creek had changed her.

  What would happen if she returned to New York, returned to the place where her ex-fiancé had humiliated her in front of all good society? The whole social atmosphere seemed exhausting when she thought of it now and embarrassed her at how much it had ruled her every thought and action before. Her days had revolved around her social schedule, what she would wear to each event. She could hardly stand the thought of going back to such an existence. But what else was there for her? At least if she were back in New York she’d soon be able to marry and have children, even if it were a loveless marriage.

  Growling under her breath, she bent over, picked up a rock, and hurled it as far as she could toward the river, as if the motion could expel some of the fru
stration from her body.

  The moment the rock hit the water, the ground shifted violently under her feet. She squeaked, swinging her arms in a circle, trying to keep her balance, but it did no good, as the bank crumbled and disappeared beneath her.

  Screaming, she slid down the mud slope, grasping onto plants, desperate to keep herself from the water. She couldn’t swim, and with the amount of clothes she was wearing, she would certainly drown.

  A stick sliced her hand open, but she barely registered the pain. Finally, at almost the last moment, her fingers wrapped around a small root darting up from the dirt. Her feet dangled close to the ravenous current below, and she shivered, thinking of what had almost happened. She would have died, alone and in a most horrible manner, and no one would have known.

  Steeling herself, she attempted to pull herself up, only to have her boot slip through the mud, landing where it had started. Her hand, slippery from all the blood leaking from the cut, slid from the root, and she moaned at the searing pain. Finding a foothold, she sucked in a few ragged breaths to calm herself a bit in order to deal with the injury, and quickly wiped the excess blood from her hand onto her skirt, before returning to grip the root, the cut now throbbing.

  Violet lifted herself again, muttering a string of curses when she only gained a few inches. Grunting, she pulled harder, but froze when she heard a small snapping sound.

  A second later, she plunged into the icy runoff, the water burying her scream.

  Casting his fishing line, Jimmy Thornton whistled loudly over the noise of the river. The song was cheery, with a quick tune, and he almost convinced himself it reflected how he felt. It was certainly how he should feel. His life was great. He had a large home, an impressive fortune, great friends, and the ability to do whatever he wanted each day.

  He’d just never realized how boring it would be to have no future goals to look forward to.

  He flicked the fishing pole, attempting to lure something to bite. The water was high now that the snow in the mountains was melting, and he could see plump fish flipping around in the rushing currents, which would make him an excellent meal later.

  If he could just catch one anyway.

  He pulled his line back in, before casting again, nodding when it landed exactly on his mark.

  I know one of you wants that plump worm. He jiggled the line, and the wire went taught. A grin broke out on his face. “Got ya!”

  He laughed, reeling in his catch, the excitement filling the hole within, if only for a brief moment. He couldn’t recall feeling so empty back when he’d been mining. There had always been too much excitement, risk, and dreams to ever feel this hollow.

  He lifted the pole to see his catch and noted its puny size. He’d be lucky to scrape together a single bite of meat once he’d cleaned and cooked it. Deciding he had time to try for another, he released the fish back into the river. He only needed one big fish for himself, and he could stay here all day if he wanted. That was the reward for being wealthy. But instead of a warm glow at the thought, it only seemed to darken his mood.

  He cursed and set his pole aside, before sitting on the bank. He needed to figure out what his problem was. What was he missing? What could he do to bring happiness back into his life? And if not happiness, at least some degree of contentment would be nice.

  He tugged on his hair with a growl when he couldn’t come up with a solution. The only time in the last year he’d felt even remotely alive was when he’d courted Aria McKinnon. It had given him a sense of purpose to help her, and she was an amazing person, and someone he still admired. If she hadn’t chosen to marry Cameron Grant, the banker in Promise Creek, Jimmy would have married her himself. They would have had a happy life, and he was sure they would have found love eventually. What more could a person ask for? But she hadn’t chosen him, and Jimmy was just fine with that, as long as she was happy.

  But what should he do now? He had no desire to court anyone in town. Besides, with Aria, it had been more about helping her, rather than wooing her.

  Was that it? Did he need to find someone in need? But what kind of assistance could he provide? He was skilled in mining, but not much else.

  Sighing, he gripped his fishing pole and stood. He obviously wasn’t going to figure anything out here, so he decided he might as well make his catch and leave. Jimmy checked the line, and when he was satisfied the bait was firmly attached, he lifted the pole over his right shoulder, ready to fling the line out, when a scream filled the air.

  He dropped his pole as adrenaline rushed through him, and his gaze darted around the bank for the source. A woman was out there, somewhere close, and the scream from her had been one of pure terror.

  He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Who’s there?” No one responded. “Hello!” he called out, much louder.

  Jimmy had no idea which direction the scream had come from, so he stood still, his body straining as he filtered out the sounds around him. Someone was out there, he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

  His heart thumped in his chest as he held still, listening for any other sound which might tell him where to look. Finally, another scream filled the trees.

  He took off in a sprint, running up the bank against the flow of the current, until finally, he spotted a woman flailing in the river. “Grab hold of something!” he yelled, but knew she couldn’t hear him. She continued flailing, barely managing to keep her head above the rapids.

  The water engulfed her, pulling her under, and he swore. Even a strong swimmer would have a difficult time navigating these conditions, but without a single thought toward his own safety, he jumped into the river just before she passed him.

  The icy cold momentarily paralyzed him, but he forced his muscles to respond and his body to move. His head went under, but he kicked himself to the surface, his gaze darting around, until he saw the woman again. “Hold on—” Jimmy’s words were swallowed by the river as it pulled him under.

  He came up for air about twenty feet away from her, but he could only see one of her arms waving weakly in the air. Fear sliced through him, fueling him as he fought against the current to get to her.

  Her head bobbed, and she cried out weakly before submerging once more. He knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

  Using all his remaining strength, he swam toward her and fell into a faster current, which swiftly propelled him toward her. As he neared her, his breath stilled in his chest. She’d gone limp.

  Reaching for her, his hand closed around her wrist, and he wrenched her to him. He turned her over and struggled to hold her head above the water. Her wet skirts weighed them both down like a stone, and he knew they had to get out of the water immediately.

  Gripping her tightly with one arm, he used his other arm to push against the water and lead them toward the bank, kicking his legs with what energy he had left to help move them. His whole body clicked into survival mode, his brain no longer able to process complex thoughts.

  He wasn’t making enough progress, and his limbs were freezing, stiffening from the water temperature. Their heads went under, and he wondered if this was it, if he would end up dying in the river while trying to save this woman.

  Refusing to give up, he dug deep inside, pushing himself to find his will to live, and broke the surface. A log jutted out from the side of the bank like a beacon. With a final push, he inched them over enough to grab at the slick wood and pulled them to safety.

  The woman groaned, barely conscious, but he said a quick prayer of gratitude she wasn’t dead.

  He boosted her up and draped her over the log, before flopping next to her. The thick piece of wood seemed to be stuck securely enough to hold them, and he allowed himself to rest his aching body.

  Completely tapped out of energy, his muscles shook, and he could barely lift his arms. They laid there for several minutes, the current tugging on their legs in an attempt to pull them back into its greedy depths.

  He still wasn’t sure he could move, but he knew they couldn’t
stay in the frigid water any longer without risking illness or severe damage to their bodies. Tugging the woman along behind him, he inched down the log toward dry ground. Once they arrived, he dropped her onto the bank and collapsed, his chest heaving, unable to take in enough air for several breaths.

  Eventually, Jimmy’s breathing slowed, and he was able to think a little more clearly. His head lulled to the side to check on her, reassuring himself that her chest rose and fell. He saw she was breathing easily and a relieved grin flashed across his face.

  He’d done it. He’d saved her and kept them both from dying. He couldn’t believe it. Luck was the only reason they’d survived. If that log hadn’t been there, or if they’d been even a foot more away when he’d seen it, he was sure they would have drown.

  His gaze searched her exposed body for injuries. He hadn’t been able to tell who she was when he’d first seen her, and then he’d been too busy keeping them alive to look.

  Dark hair stuck to her face, making it impossible to discern her identity. Still laying on his back, he reached out a hand and brushed the chilled tendrils away.

  He sucked in a breath when he uncovered her face.

  Violet Morgan.

  She was another one of Ivan’s mail-order brides. He’d met her and the others when he’d courted Aria, but he’d never really paid much attention. He recalled she’d seemed cold and unfriendly, and he hadn’t bothered trying to get to know her any further.

  Stunned, he wondered how she’d gotten into the river and why she had been here alone. They were quite a ways from town to begin with, and he guessed they were much farther after their trip in the river. They would have a good walk ahead of them, but they would have to dry off first. It was warmer than it had been for some time, but the air still had a spring chill to it.