by Kristin Holt
A few sour pusses sat on the back row, dressed like they’d just come from the mines, glowering at anyone and everyone. Sam laughed aloud at Pickle Pike’s scowl. Hadn’t he warned those fellas these ladies had a discerning eye and they’d have to earn their regard? Served ‘em right.
Brother Quayle worked the crowd, shaking hands and making introductions. Sam checked his pocket watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
He got antsy, but right on time, four brides left the Quarters and paraded toward the town green. Evelyn’s were the only parents in attendance but Sam barely glanced at them. His focus clung to his bride, a vision of loveliness, her brilliant hair all done up on her crown…and her smile infectious.
He found himself basking in her happiness and grinning like a fool.
Taking note of the fine dress she wore, he chuckled, the joy of recognition making him giddy. Somehow, in the few days since he’d given her yards and yards of that feminine green and lavender calico, she’d made more than the blouse he’d seen her wear. Now that fashionable top was tucked into a high-waist skirt making it look for all the world like a fancy eastern dress, all decorated with tucks and draped overskirt. He couldn’t help but notice the gown showed off her feminine curves to distraction, yet seemed loose enough to accommodate her changing figure.
This newly-made dress, perfect for a bride, would find plenty of use day-to-day in simple Prosperity.
How did he get a fancy lady with a practical streak? One who sewed like a dream and apparently didn’t mind the work?
It seemed some kind of divine intervention—like he’d won the lottery—when this amazing woman arrived unannounced just in time to save him from the biggest mistake of his life. To think he’d mistakenly believed Octavia his one-and-only showed how much he’d figured out, how very far he’d come…with Evelyn.
Given he and Evelyn were first up in this group wedding, he signaled the preacher it was time to start, and took his place up front.
Old Thad paused, switched tunes, and played a beautiful melody.
Brother Quayle shuffled into position, his worn Bible clutched in his hands. Sam spared a grin for the preacher, but his attention hurried right back to his bride.
As he watched Evelyn walk to him on her father’s arm, Sam felt an amazing sense of rightness. He’d never been this sure of anything in his life.
Mr. Brandt went through the age-old tradition of putting his daughter’s hand in Sam’s, kissed her cheek and even spared a smile for Sam. Unbelievable, given where they’d started, but they’d become family in the past couple of days. Sam figured he’d get along with his wife’s parents just fine.
In front of God, Brother Quayle, and the entire population of Prosperity Colorado, Sam Kochler said his vows and kissed his bride.
Six weeks later…
“Sam!”
He dropped the lid of a crate he’d just pried off and bolted for his wife. She stood in the middle of an aisle in the mercantile, both hands pressed flat against her prominent belly.
His heart seized. It was still too early. He had no way of getting to the midwife in Leadville in time. The old woman had promised—when persuaded with hefty financial compensation—to spend as long as it took in Prosperity to see Evelyn safely delivered. But the old midwife’s arrival was still a month away.
He knew nothing about birthing a baby. Two young brides knew a thing or two, but their knowledge was so limited Sam wasn’t sure he trusted them.
He skidded to a halt, took his wife’s shoulders in his shaking hands. “What is it?” Please don’t say the baby’s coming.
She looked up, met his gaze, those incredibly blue depths sparkling with happiness. She smiled with newfound excitement. “Feel this.” She pressed his palm to the swell of her belly.
Her gaze met his once more, clearly asking a question, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what that question could be. He was no doctor, couldn’t tell if a woman was in labor unless he could actually see the babe emerging—
A little bump nudged his hand. Whoa!—absolutely astounding, the remarkable sign of life he’d known was growing within her…but to actually feel it made it so…real.
Every scrap of anxiety melted in a torrent. “He moved.”
Evelyn’s laughter made him want to kiss her, so he did, just a quick peck. He waited, anticipating another little kick.
“What makes you think it’s a he?” she asked, her voice low and meant just for him. They had the mercantile to themselves, but he still found the intimacy of this shared conversation something special.
He shrugged. “I figure the odds are fifty-fifty.”
“You want a boy?”
“I want you safely delivered of a healthy baby. Can’t say I mind one way or the other—boy or girl is fine with me.”
She slid his hand a little to her left over the ironed cotton of her white apron. “Feel that?”
Sam’s heart stuttered, full of love for this child he wanted more than he’d believed possible and overflowing with love for his wife. “I love you, Mrs. Kochler.”
Her free hand cupped his face, stroked his jaw with her thumb. Her smile a sweet reminder she loved him, too. “And I love you. Oh—”
The babe kicked Sam’s hand. Hard. “Settle down,” he whispered, leaning close so his son could hear. “I love you, too, little guy. Now be nice to your mama. Ladies are gentle creatures, not rough-and-tumble like us.”
Evelyn giggled and Sam couldn’t help but pull her into his arms. She looped her arms about his waist, the babe nestled between them, and turned her face up for a kiss. He lingered, just holding her gaze for a good long moment, anticipating the pure pleasure of kissing his wife. It was all still so new, such a gift. His lips touched hers with a reverence that heated up right quick.
Someone cleared their throat. How long had that someone been standing there?
Sam reluctantly released his wife and looked at the intruder. Four intruders: Elmer, Peter, Willard, and Albert. Sam wanted to tell them to skedaddle, close up shop for the rest of the day, and take his wife back to bed. He scowled at them all.
“You hear back from that Mrs. Mumford at the bride agency?” Albert demanded. “It’s been a month.”
Yes, mail had come in on the stage, but he’d not yet sorted it. He leafed through the stack on the counter. Sure enough, a letter from Hartford Bridal Agency.
Willard whooped and snatched the letter from Sam’s grasp.
Elmer snagged it before Willard could break the seal.
“Hey, now,” Willard bellowed, “I got that first.”
“It’s addressed to me.” Sam reclaimed the letter. “Hold your horses.”
“Open it,” Albert demanded. “We ain’t got all day.”
Sam tapped the letter in question on the polished counter top to prove his point. Albert rose to his full height, a good inch or two taller than Sam. Elmer made an inarticulate noise of complaint.
“See this, fellas?” Sam asked, gesturing to all four men. “Ever think your manners need a bit of work before—”
“How many?” Albert yelled before Sam even finished.
“—the brides get here?” Sam finished and shook his head. Unbelievable. The unmarried men in Prosperity needed some serious work before round two of the mail order brides arrived.
Sam met Evelyn’s gaze and they shared a smile. She’d suggested a marvelous solution—finishing lessons for every rough-hewn, manner-challenged miner—and volunteered to teach. Sam was fine with the idea, so long as they treated her with respect and kept their hands and snide comments to themselves.
And as long as the lessons wrapped up before Samuel, Jr. was born.
He tore open the envelope to audible sighs from the guys, to see just how long they had to knock the rough edges off these fellas and turn them into husbands any decent eastern gal would want.
He skimmed the letter.
“Hey!” Willard bellowed. “Read it aloud.”
“Mrs. Mumford sends
salutations.”
Albert motioned with a rolling wave of his arm, demanding Sam skip to the good stuff.
“Two months from now—”
“Two months?” they chorused in disbelief and outrage.
“—a private passenger car will arrive in Leadville carrying twenty mail order brides.”
Whoops erupted. Albert smacked Elmer on the back.
“Twenty? You ain’t pulling a leg?” Elmer asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer.
“Twenty’s darn near enough for everybody.” Willard’s brows drew together as if the math had him stumped.
“T-twenty b-b-brides coming in,” Peter yelled from the mercantile doorway into the street for anyone near enough to hear.
All four stampeded through that same doorway into the summer sunshine.
“I think they’ve forgiven me,” Sam told his wife, “for winning the best of the bunch, first go ‘round.”
He found himself distracted by the love shining in her blue, blue eyes. “Now, where were we?”
She smiled slowly, looped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to finish their interrupted kiss.
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Thank you for seeing Sam and Evelyn through to the end of their story. I hope you enjoyed their discovery of one another as much as I did.
As always (at least for me), the creation of a book requires revisions, rewriting, and sometimes “finished” scenes end up on the cutting room floor (to borrow a term from the film industry). I ended up deleting what would have been the opening scene of The Bride Lottery, wherein the Brandts’ family doctor discloses her secret to her parents and brings about Allan Brandt’s decision to send his daughter across the country. I’ve posted that deleted opening scene for your reading enjoyment.
When writing this story, I ended up deleting an entire scene from the middle of the book. I loved this scene. Still do. For many reasons (which I explain in this blog article), the scene had to go. But maybe now that you’ve read the book, you’ll enjoy another peek at Sam Kochler’s store and his newly recognized love for his bride-to-be. I’ve dubbed this deleted scene, “marriage license”.
The research process has slowly become more and more significant in my writing. The Bride Lottery was relatively early in that morphing in my creative methods, but I still have a few tidbits of key research to share with you. I wrote a blog article about Corsets in the Era—yes, even maternity corsets, though I’ve realized much of my understanding of this Victorian foundation garment wasn’t quite correct. I understand far more now than I did when The Bride Lottery came into being.
I’m an amateur historian, committed to constantly learning, growing my foundation of understanding about all things Victorian American, and blog about my research and findings frequently on my own website. I hope you’ll forgive my less-than-perfect historical comprehension—especially in my earlier published books, such as this one.
I’ve fallen in love with Colorado’s mining history, especially as my research into Colorado’s contributions in the nineteenth century has become more broad and deep. For a sense of how I set fiction (Prosperity is entirely fictional, of my own creation) in a very real place (Colorado, and the nearby history-rich mining town of Leadville). I set a more recently published novella, Pleasance’s First Love (1879; two years earlier than The Bride Lottery), also near Leadville (and key scenes occur in that boomtown).
The Bride Lottery has its own Pinterest Board! Come see true-to-life, gorgeous scenery of the Colorado Rockies near Leadville, clothing styles from the time, relics from mining days, and vintage photographs of saloons like Mr. Journey’s. I hope visuals like those posted will give you a greater sense of place and time.
What comes next? I’ve intended this book to be first of a series—with the following stories promised in the epilogue. Eventually there will be more stories in Prosperity’s Mail Order Brides Series. Until then, I have sixteen books (as of this revision date) one of which is an exclusive novella, available only as my gift to newsletter subscribers. Signing up for my occasional newsletter is easy, claiming the free novella simple as pie, and should you ever tire of hearing from me, it’s easy to unsubscribe. I send newsletters once a month, always with a prize drawing for a gift card or PayPal money inside.
Why? Because I enjoy staying connected with readers. I take your recommendations to heart. I like hearing what you’ve enjoyed about my books, and what you didn’t like (how else will I bring you what you most want to read?). You’re welcome to contact me through my website or email me directly at [email protected]. I’d love to hear what you thought of The Bride Lottery, and any additional books of mine you’ve read.
Happy Reading,
March, 2017
Books by Kristin Holt
www.KristinHolt.com
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Quick Peek: Amazon’s Kristin Holt Page
Learn more about Kristin Holt’s Series:
HOLIDAYS IN MOUNTAIN HOME
SIX BRIDES FOR SIX GIDEONS
THE HUSBAND-MAKER TRILOGY
PROSPERITY’S MAIL ORDER BRIDES
And collaborative works ~
on my website ~or~ Amazon’s Kristin Holt Page
Hi! I'm Kristin Holt, USA Today bestselling author of Sweet Romances (G- and PG-rated) set in the Victorian American West.
While secular in nature, my titles are “Appropriate for All Audiences” and appeal to selective readers and fans of Christian historical romance.
I write frequent articles (or view recent posts easily on my Home Page, scroll down) about the nineteenth century American west–every subject of possible interest to readers, amateur historians, authors…as all of these tidbits surfaced while researching for my books. I also blog monthly at Sweet Romance Reads, Sweet Americana Sweethearts, and Romancing the Genres.
I love to hear from readers! Please drop me a note. Or find me on Facebook.
You’re invited to join a fantastic Facebook group for authors and readers of Western Historical Romances, Pioneer Hearts. If you’re a fan of Sweet Romance of all kinds (contemporary, romantic suspense, historical, and more!), Sweet Romance Reads Cafe may become your favorite hang-out. Come join us!
Meanwhile, please stop by www.KristinHolt.com and say hello.
For Mark. You’re a prince among men.
Special thanks to Jackie G.
THE BRIDE LOTTERY Copyright © 2014 Kristin Holt LC
www.KristinHolt.com
Kindle format ISBN-10: 1634380002
Kindle format ISBN-13: 978-1-63438-000-3
eBook design by Kristin Holt: www.KristinHolt.com
Cover Design Copyright © 2014 Elaina Lee, www.ForTheMuseDesign.com
All rights reserved. By payment of required fees, you have been granted non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook on-screen. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored, introduced to any storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, nor distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author publisher except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Publisher: Kristin Holt LC, P.O. Box 9301, Ogden UT 84409-9301. www.KristinHo
lt.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
