by Kit Morgan
The Partridge
The First Day
Kit Morgan
12 Days of Christmas Mail Order Brides
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
Twelve Days of Christmas Mail-Order Brides
The Partridge: The First Day
by Kit Morgan
© 2017 Kit Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.
Cover design by EDH Graphics
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
What’s Next
More from Kit Morgan
About the Author
Chapter 1
The Golden Nugget Saloon, Noelle, Colorado, August 1876
“You want me to do what?” Charles Augustus Hardt pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his worn jacket and wiped his brow. His handsome face was suddenly flushed and it wasn’t from the hot August afternoon. He wiped the back of his neck, then put the handkerchief away.
Charlie looked more like a miner than a mine owner, let alone mayor. His light brown hair was streaked with gold from the sun, his hands calloused, his lean muscular build hidden by a loose-fitting jacket. And his eyes … their piercing blue had stopped more than one man in his tracks. He was hoping they’d do the trick here. “As mayor of this town, I veto your idea.”
Rev. Chase Hammond, Charlie’s friend and the local preacher, ran a hand through his thick locks. He was a few inches taller than Charlie and just as ruggedly handsome, but with dark hair and calmer eyes. Beneath that calm, though, was a highly intelligent and calculating mind – and Charlie knew it.
Chase studied him a moment and came closer. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. He had to convince Charlie of his idea, or the town would be in a heap of trouble. The railroad was balking at their plans to bring a line to Noelle. If the town didn’t give them a good reason to come and fast, they’d back out completely. And if that happened, the town would surely die. “Charlie, you don’t understand – it’s what this town needs. Besides, the railroad likes the idea – someone on the railroad board wrote and told me himself. Let’s face it, they have to have a good reason to come here, and a growing town will do it.”
Charlie gave him an incredulous look, hands on hips. “Bring women to Noelle so our men can get married – and that will convince the railroad to come?! I’ve never heard of anything so preposterous!” He got nose to nose with Chase. “I’ll tell you what’ll convince the railroad.” He jabbed a finger into the reverend’s chest, twice. “More. Gold. And I’m gonna find it!” He turned and motioned to the barkeep. “Seamus, what do I owe you?”
Seamus Malone, a stout Irishman, glanced at the ceiling as he calculated the amount. “That’ll be two dollars, Mayor.”
Mayor Hardt pulled some coins out of his pocket and slapped them on the bar. “Tell me, Seamus,” he said while glaring at Chase. “What do you think of the reverend’s idea that the men marry in order to make the town respectable enough for the railroad to come?”
Seamus glanced nervously between the two. “Well, if some of ‘em get married, will he stop holding his Sunday meetings in me saloon?” He gave Chase a sheepish look. “No offense, Preacher.”
Chase shrugged. “None taken.”
“Well?” The mayor prompted.
Seamus glanced between the mayor and the pastor again. “As I see it, if the railroad comes and more folks move here, I’m all for it. More customers, aye?”
“Aha!” Chase smacked the bar with his hand. “I told you it was a good idea.”
“The only reason he likes it is because it’ll get you out of his saloon on Sundays!” Noelle didn’t have a church building, so come Sundays the tables were moved against the walls of the saloon and the chairs set in neat rows facing the bar to create a “sanctuary” of sorts.
Chase turned to the barkeep. “You have to admit, Seamus, once we stop holding services here, the men might not buy as much whiskey afterwards. You know how hellfire and brimstone gets them riled up.”
Seamus chuckled as he wiped the bar. “True enough, lad. But it’s also true that if we build a church and a lot of menfolk get married, their wives’ll probably drive ‘em into me place to drink anyway. Plus, I’ll have me any other new folk that comes to town.”
Chase reached over the bar and patted Seamus on the shoulder. “One more reason to bring women to Noelle.” He turned to the mayor and smiled. “I’m telling you, Charlie, if the railroad thinks this town can make something of itself, they will come. Don’t you realize what that means?”
“That you’ve gone plumb loco?”
“It means we don’t have to leave! If more people move to Noelle, Seamus can keep his saloon open. Liam Fulton won’t have to close down his dry goods store, Culver Daniels can keep his blacksmith shop open. The government won’t shut down Jack Peregrine’s post office, and he won’t have to move elsewhere to do his carpentry work. Heck, even Percy down at the land office will be so busy we won’t be tripping over him all the time. And you will still have a town to be mayor of.”
Charlie couldn’t argue with that, but he still thought gold was the answer, not women. He stared at Chase a moment before crossing his arms in front of him.
Chase sighed. “Look, Noelle was booming up until last year. Heck, in the last six months the population’s been cut in half with all the miners leaving. Soon businesses will start to leave, and the town will blow away in the wind.”
“I know we need to stop folks from leaving – that’s why your crazy scheme won’t work. The men should stay focused on finding more gold, not worrying about women. I can’t think of one man who’s told me lately that he’s itching to settle down.”
“I say,” came a distinct accent from a corner table. “I, for one, wouldn’t mind a wife.” The reverend and the mayor turned toward Hugh Montgomery, an Englishman by birth, who blinked owlishly back. “I think it’s a capital idea.”
The mayor stared hard at Hugh. He’d expected the Englishman to be on his side – he was an avid metallurgist, after all, not to mention the town’s assayer. “You stay out of this, Hugh,” he snapped, turning back to the reverend. “Chase, you’re one of my best friends, but I can’t agree with this.”
“All right, I understand your position,” Chase said. “Say we don’t make the town worthwhile, we don’t bring women here to get married and you don’t find any gold. Then what?”
Seamus paled. “Then I’ll have to move back east and …” he gulped, “… live with me wife!” He pulled at his collar. “Ye gotta think of something to save Noelle, gents! It’s easier for me to keep sending her money than to live with her.”
“But bringing women here won’t make the gold disappear – if there’s any left to dig up,” Chase went on. “If there’s some still down there, you’ll have the best of both worlds. And even if there’s not, we’ll still have the women – and we’ll still get the railroad.”
“He’s right,” an annoying nasally voice cut in.
> The men turned to see Percival Penworthy (Percy around town) now sitting at Hugh’s table. He was a thin young man with slicked-back brown hair who hadn’t grown into his ears yet. Impeccably dressed, he adjusted the pince-nez on his long nose. He ran the land office and was an accountant by trade. He was also somewhat of a magician. Where did he come from? The man appeared at Hugh’s table as if by magic.
Never mind, Chase thought. The reinforcements were here. “See? Even Percy thinks so! And he ought to know! His uncle is on the railroad board, remember? Who do you think wrote me?”
“Fine!” Charlie threw his hands in the air. “You two do what you will, just leave me out of it. I’m too busy running the mine. We’re blasting new tunnels this week – I know the mother lode is out there and I’ll prove it!”
“Sounds fair,” Chase said with a nod and a wink at Percy. “You go ahead and look for your gold and I’ll look for some women.”
The mayor laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you think you’d better ask the men first? After all, they might think you’ve gone as far round the bend as I do.”
Chase straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders. “I will, come Sunday. I’m sure the men will be more than happy to cooperate once I’ve explained things.”
Charlie smirked. “You do that.”
“And you, Mayor,” Percy said in his signature nasal tone, “may do your best to find more gold. Though I completely support the reverend here, gold speaks louder than women as far as the railroad is concerned.”
“Of course it does,” Charlie agreed. “And don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He sent Chase a triumphant smirk before nodding at the others in farewell, and left.
“I don’t know, Reverend,” Seamus went back to cleaning glasses. “Mayhaps Mayor Hardt’s right and finding more gold is the big answer.”
Chase smiled at him and leaned against the bar. “Seamus, is the railroad here now?”
“No.”
“Right, and it wasn’t when Noelle was booming. Gold was everywhere, and still the railroad didn’t come.”
“I believe that’d be due to the line only going as far as Denver at the time,” Hugh commented from his corner.
Percy chuckled at that. Hugh was only stating the obvious.
Chase nodded. “That’s correct. But now that they’re considering coming here, they’re balking, and may back out entirely if the town keeps shrinking.”
“Aye, but they won’t back out so long as there’s gold,” Seamus said assuredly.
“True, but with less and less gold being taken out every day …” Chase glanced between Seamus and the others. If the town was to become a real town, families had to move in. But the only way to get them to was to make sure some were already there. “Gentlemen, I don’t care what our mayor says. Women and marriage are our best chance to save the town.”
“Then you’d best hope the men agree when you bring it up come Sunday,” Percy warned. “After all, my uncle could change his mind, you know, and decide this plan of yours isn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Trust me,” Chase said with a confident nod. “They’re going to love the idea.”
* * *
“You want us to do what, Reverend?” a man called from the crowd. The saloon erupted into laughter.
Chase kept his temper in check. After all, he was only trying to do what was best for Noelle and make it into an honest-to-goodness town, not just an oversized mining camp. Of course, if things kept going the way they were, soon it would be nothing at all. From his makeshift pulpit in front of the bar, he waved at the crowd to settle down. “All right, calm yourselves and hear me out!”
Half the crowd quieted, but the other half was still laughing. One man almost fell out of his chair.
“I think it’s a right fine idea,” Woody Burnside, the mule keeper, said over the ruckus.
Several men turned to him. “What do ya want with a bride, Woody?” one asked. “Ya got yer mules to keep ya company, boy.”
“Yeah,” said another. “And them three chickens that always follow ya around.” That sent the saloon into hysterics again.
Woody glared at the nearest men. “Listen to the preacher – let him speak!” But his word was to no avail.
Chase, however, had dealt with his congregation before. He nonchalantly pulled his revolver, aimed it at the ceiling and fired. The building went silent, save for Seamus mumbling about “another bloody hole to fix.” “Now as I was saying,” Chase continued as he holstered his gun, “what woman wouldn’t want to come to Noelle?”
But the men closest to him glanced at one another and, unable to help it, let a few snorts of laughter escape. The town preacher lived above the saloon, so he’d likely just shot a hole in the floor of his own room.
“Quiet!”
All heads turned to the back. Sheriff Draven, dark-haired and wild looking, came away from the post he’d been leaning against and limped forward. Any men in his way quickly parted to let him pass. He was the definition of intimidating, with two long scars cutting a path from the left side of his forehead over his missing eye and down to his jaw. No one even knew his full name – he’d always been just “Draven.”
He looked at the men nearest to him, then narrowed his one good eye at a few other naysayers before returning his attention to Rev. Hammond. “Go ahead, Rev.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” Chase said. “Now, many of you worked hard to build up businesses in town. Do you want to have to throw that all away? Just think of how many people would come here if the railroad came through? None of us would have to leave. No one would have to start over someplace else.”
Now men began to nod in agreement. “I would like a wife,” Nacho Villanueva piped up. “She could help me in my restaurant, si?”
“Ya need all the help ya can get!” a man shouted from the back of the room.
Sheriff Draven turned, glared at the jokester, and the building went silent once more.
“But how we gonna get these women out here, Reverend?” asked Culver Daniels, the blacksmith.
“You just leave that to me,” Chase assured. “I’ve got it all in hand.”
Mayor Hardt sauntered to the front. “I’d like to know that too,” he said with a smile. “Just how are you going to get women to come out here?” He cast a glance at Hugh the assayer, his smile broadening into triumph.
“Simple,” Chase said. “Gentlemen, we’re going to order ourselves a passel of mail-order brides.”
The men looked at each other, back to the reverend, then … “Woo-ee!” someone cried as a shot rang out. Obviously, some liked the idea.
“No! Not me ceiling!” Seamus cried.
“Your ceiling?” Mayor Hardt shouted above the cheering and hollering. “Have you forgotten I own this place?” The mayor planted himself next to Chase. “All of you listen to me!”
The men again attempted to settle themselves. “What is it, Mayor?” Ezra Thornton, a grizzled older rancher, asked.
“I’ll tell ya, Ezra – the real solution is to find more gold. Plain and simple.”
Several men stepped forward. By now everyone was standing.
Charlie continued. “When I first came here, nobody believed we’d find enough gold to pay for supplies, much less start a town. But we showed them, didn’t we? We built Noelle with the gold out of that mine. And we’ll keep blasting new tunnels until we find a new vein. We’ll keep this town growing and we’ll get the railroad. I give you my word. Now I’ve got no objection to the preacher’s plan. If you men want wives, so be it.” He glanced at Chase once more. “Just … make it happen.”
Chase looked resigned. They both valued their friendship, both knew it was okay for them to disagree, but they also knew when to stay out of each other’s way. “So be it,” he finally said. At least they were working toward the same goal.
Mayor Hardt nodded and left the saloon, followed by the men who’d rather dig to save Noelle than marry. The r
emaining men, about thirty of them, gathered around the pulpit. “What we gonna do, Reverend?” Woody asked.
“We’re going to see who wants to get married to save the town.” He looked over the remaining men. “Well, can I get a show of hands?”
One by one, the hands slowly came up. Chase nodded to himself. “Then I guess it’s time for me to write a letter to Denver.”
“Who is in Denver?” Nacho asked.
Chase smiled. “One Genevieve Walters, gentlemen. She can provide us with mail-order brides.”
“Did ye hear that, gents?” Seamus called out. “Yer getting married!”
“Yahoo!” Silas Powell shouted, louder than the rest. “Does that mean drinks are on the house?”
Seamus’ smile vanished. “Uh, no.”
The men’s reverie died.
Seamus scratched his head. “But,” he drawled. “I suppose they will be when ye get yerselves married!”
The saloon erupted into cheers again.
Chase smiled and sighed as he watched the men congratulate each other on their future nuptials. They were an unlikely mix – from a British assayer to a man who got along better with mules and hens than people. “I’d better go write that letter.” He sighed again. “And I’d better make it a good one.”
* * *
Dear Mrs. Walters,
One of my fellow clergy told me of Denver’s Benevolent Society of Lost Lambs. I believe your organization is just what our town needs to become a community of virtuous men and women. To do that, our men need to be united in holy matrimony, start families and thus build a town of pure-hearted, respectable citizens …
Chase smiled at what he’d written so far, then promptly ducked as a half-filled glass of beer flew past his head. It hit the wall behind him hard, spraying shards and beer everywhere. Annoyed, he brushed several droplets from his shoulder and continued his letter as the usual Sunday afternoon brawl at the Golden Nugget went on as well.
