Orphan Brides Go West: The Complete Series Read online

  Praise for Orphan Brides Go West

  You'll keep the pages turning as you cheer these two along in that hopes that they find each other before it's too late.

  Amazon reviewer

  Mercy, what a heart wrenching story with twists to really bring tears to my heart.

  Amazon reviewer

  This was a great opening for this series! I can't wait to read more orphan brides!

  Amazon reviewer

  Mail Order Bride: Orphan Brides Go West

  The Complete Series

  Vivi Holt

  Black Lab Press

  Contents

  FREE Book

  Vivi Holt

  Mail Order Bride: Christy

  About Mail Order Bride: Christy

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Historical Note & Author’s Remarks

  Vivi Holt

  Mail Order Bride: Ramona

  About Mail Order Bride: Ramona

  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

  Vivi Holt

  Mail Order Bride: Katie

  About Mail Order Bride: Katie

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Vivi Holt

  Mail Order Bride: Holly

  About Mail Order Bride: Holly

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Excerpt from Of Peaks and Prairies

  Also by Vivi Holt

  About the Author

  FREE Book

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  The Lift, a short love story.

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  “Delightful and fun!”

  “Great short read that will give you that feel good feeling.”

  “Fun, clean, elevator meet-cute!”

  Mail Order Bride: Christy

  Book 1

  Vivi Holt

  About Mail Order Bride: Christy

  Book 1

  Christy finds herself orphaned and alone when her parents are tragically killed in a robbery gone wrong. Without a home to return to, she is stranded in a strange town where she discovers the kindness of a stranger and an opportunity for new love.

  Brent has lost the love of his life and after years of loneliness he hopes to find a life-long companion through a Mail Order Bride service.

  When the two strangers meet sparks fly, but misunderstandings threaten to tear them apart. Before Christy and Brent can have their fairy tale ending they will have to learn to trust each other and take a chance on love.

  This book is a sweet, clean, western, historical, romance novella. It is a complete story, but it is also part of the Orphan Brides Go West series. Be sure to read them all - in any order!

  Prologue

  July 29, 1886

  The horse galloped across the open field, eyes wide and nostrils flared. Brent Taylor could see Annabelle’s face pale as she clung to the palomino’s back, the reins bunched tightly in her whitened fist. A clap of thunder filled the humid Kentucky air, and the horse lifted its head with a shake and sped up.

  “Anna, hold on!” he yelled, but the wind seemed to catch it and throw it back in his face. He wasn’t sure she could hear him at all. He rushed to the horse yard by the barn, caught a bridle hanging on the gate post and quickly pushed it over the ears of the bay standing idle there. The gate bounced open with a flick of his wrist and he jumped onto the horse, leaned over its arched neck and tapped its ribs with his heels. “Let’s go, Patty.”

  The beast leaped forward and through the gate, desperately following Annabelle.

  The palomino mare was her favorite horse, but had always been flighty and unpredictable. Brent had never liked her riding it. But she’d insisted, saying her mane was perfect for braiding and her dainty head was so pretty, she just couldn’t bear to give her up. Now it was taking her across the field nearest the house, headed toward the main road. Surely the mare would stop soon?

  Brent was following and gradually gaining on her. Her free arm flailed above the horse, and he silently cursed the sidesaddle she insisted on using. “Ladies don’t ride astride, darling,” she’d said as she flipped her blonde braid over her shoulder and smiled at him.

  “No one will ever know but me,” he protested. But she’d just tipped her head to one side and looked at him with those big blue eyes, and he’d relented. She could do what she wished, then.

  “Hold on. I’m coming!” Brent cried into the wind. His brown Stetson blew from his head, tumbling to land on a tussock of black-eyed susans. Lightning spiked from the sky to the earth, and he braced himself for the crash that followed.

  The palomino leaped over a rocky outcropping and stumbled. Brent watched helplessly as Annabelle flew over the horse’s lowered shoulder and landed with a thud on the rocks below. “No,” he whispered.

  He reached Annabelle within moments, jumping from Patty’s back to the ground below and running to her. She lay unmoving, her braid loose, waves of straight hair covering her face. He knelt beside her and lifted her head into his lap. “Anna, darling.” He smoothed her hair and dipped his ear to her mouth to listen for her breath. Nothing. Her face was pallid and she was limp in his arms. A trickle of blood ran from her left temple and her eyes were closed. She was gone.

  He pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and rocked her back and forth. He let the tears fall as fat raindrops hit the dusty ground around them.

  “Anna. My darling Anna …”

  1

  February 1889

  A chill wind blew up and over the woolen muffler around Christy Hancock’s neck. She pulled it tighter and lifted the edge of it over her mouth, clutched the folder of piano music to her chest and lowered her head into the wind. If only spring would hurry up and come to Philadelphia.

  She loved spring in Philadelphia. It snuck in from the south on a warm breeze, melted away the ice and snow, and enticed flocks of geese, ducks and other seasonal fowl back to the skies in formation, as they made their way north for another summer. She longed for the sweetness of sunshine and the squirrels skippi
ng and frolicking, rather than seeing the shivering creatures settled on bare branches along the frozen boulevard.

  She flicked the latch on the gate and headed up the garden path to the front door of her parents’ red-brick three-level home. The door wasn’t locked, so she slipped inside and slammed it shut behind her, leaning against it in relief as the warmth of the house enveloped her. She sighed and unwrapped herself from the labyrinth of wool – scarf, muffler, hat, and coat – hanging each piece on the coat rack by the door. “Mam, I’m home!”

  There was no response. She stepped into the parlor and set the sheet music in its place on the piano, then made her way into the kitchen, finding it empty as well. A large plate of warm ginger cookies, Christy’s favorite, was the only sign anyone was home. She selected one and took a great bite, savoring the sweet and spicy taste of it in her mouth. Dropping another two cookies into the pockets of her skirt, she went around the house in search of her mother.

  She finally found her in the sitting room, staring out the front window at the street, a half-finished sweater bundled in her lap, knitting needles poking out of the yarn at odd angles. “There you are, Mam. I’ve been looking for you.” Christy took another bite of cookie, catching the falling crumbs with her free hand.

  “Christy, please don’t eat in here. How many times have I told you that?”

  “Sorry, Mam.”

  “How were your piano lessons?”

  “Fine, thank you. Mrs. Oldsberg says I’m ready for fifth-level examinations. They’re to be held in April. What do you think?”

  “I’m sure you would do well.”

  Christy’s mother seemed distracted. Generally she would press her to do a piano examination, but this time she barely responded before she resumed staring out the window. “Is something the matter, Mam?” she asked, joining her mother on the horsehair settee.

  “No, nothing’s wrong, my dear. Only … Daddy and I do have something to discuss with you.” She turned to face Christy with a wan smile.

  “Oh? Well, what is it?”

  “We should wait until Daddy gets home. I’m expecting him at any moment.”

  “Oh fiddle-dee-dee, Mam – you know you’re going to tell me anyway. So let’s have it – what’s on your mind? Daddy won’t care a jot if you tell me on your own, you know he won’t. And anyway, you’re starting to scare me.” Christy studied her mother’s face with concern. What could it be?

  Was Daddy ill? No. Christy shook the thought away – it had to be something pleasant. Perhaps they’d decided to get her a horse for Christmas after all. Or maybe they were all going to take that long-deliberated trip to Ireland to see the extended family. She could barely contain her excitement as she thought about the possibilities. She desperately longed to see Europe, and her parents had always been so very unfair on the subject, telling her she was too young to go alone, or that they couldn’t afford to go as a family. Maybe they were finally ready!

  Mrs. Hancock’s face twisted as she thought, and Christy could tell she was close to yielding. She took her mother’s hands in hers and smiled. “Come now, Mam. You’ll feel better for the telling.”

  “Oh, all right. Christy Hancock, you are the most difficult child to refuse.” Mrs. Hancock grinned despite herself and drew a deep breath. “We’re moving.”

  “What?” Christy’s eyes grew wide.

  “Daddy has been offered a job in California, and we’re going there in just a few weeks. I’m sorry, my dear – I know you love it here, and your friends are here, but your father believes it will be for the best. Do you remember Wesley Combs, Daddy’s friend?”

  Christy nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

  “As you know, he moved to San Francisco five years ago. He opened a lumber yard there, and apparently it has been doing very well. He needs someone to manage it, since he’s expanding and can’t possibly cope with it all himself, and he wants your father because he doesn’t want to entrust it to anyone out there. He’s willing to pay four times what your father is making now.”

  “But Mam, are you saying I have to go too?” Her voice choked over the words.

  “Now, now, my dear – only if you wish to. You’re nineteen now and capable of making your own decisions. You know we want you to come with us, but we understand if you’d rather stay. We’d have to find a suitable arrangement for you, of course, but it is possible – if that’s what you want.” Her mother squeezed her hands and smiled at her.

  Tears slid down Christy’s cheeks. “No, I couldn’t stay behind without you and Daddy.” She was whispering, but the sentiment was firm. Her heart lay with her family, and her parents were the only family she had. The idea of living in a big city on her own, even a city she loved, was overwhelming. She couldn’t bear the thought of it, and she fell with a cry onto Mrs. Hancock’s yarn-covered lap.

  Mrs. Hancock stroked her hair with a sigh. “Of course you can come with us, my dear. I just didn’t want to drag you all the way out to California against your will. It’s pioneer territory, my dear, and while Daddy felt we should insist you come with us, I asked him to give you the choice, and he agreed.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Christy sniffled into Mrs. Hancock’s skirts.

  “All right, my dear.”

  The front door blew open and an icy wind pushed Mr. Hancock inside with a single gust. He turned to close it quickly, then faced the women across the hall. “I see you’ve told her,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “She’s coming with us?”

  Mr. Hancock wiped a hand across his brow, relief evident on his reddened face. “Well, thank the good Lord for that.”

  2

  “You’re moving to California?” Candice Sinnamon’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” replied Christy, tracing a finger around the floral print of her skirt, her face glum. The two girls sat in Candice’s bedroom – Christy on the edge of the feather bed, Candice in a rocking chair with her feet tucked beneath her petticoats. The walls were covered with pastel-pink wallpaper and a pile of plush toys and dolls decorated the bed, reminders of a childhood not long left behind.

  “But I’ll never see you again.”

  “You might, though I suppose it’s not particularly likely. My life is ruined.” Christy flung herself down on the bed and buried her face in a pillow.

  “I don’t know, it sounds kind of exciting to me.” Candice grimaced. “I never get to go anywhere. My parents won’t even let me visit my Aunt Petunia in New York.”

  “I suppose you could be right.” Christy rolled onto her back and sat up, smoothing her unruly red curls against her head with both palms.

  “Of course I’m right. You’ll get to see all kinds of thrilling new places and do things that are frowned upon here. I’ve heard you can even ride astride a horse out West and no one even bats an eye. Not to mention the cowboys you’ll meet.”

  “You think I’ll meet cowboys?”

  “In California? You’re bound to. They’re everywhere out there.”

  “Ooooh.” Christy clapped her hands together in glee and her eyes misted over at the thought. Surely all cowboys were handsome, romantic men who sat around in the starlight whistling tunes over restless cattle. They’d be well-mannered and wear big hats and riding boots and say things like “howdy” and “dang”. “I hadn’t thought about that. Now that you mention it, there might be something worthwhile in California. It’s not Pennsylvania, but perhaps living there won’t ruin my life entirely. There are so few interesting men here – it’s a Herculean task to snag one. I mean, I nearly lost an eye at the last ball I attended – Evelyn Hall was determined to dance with Fred Haden, and no one was going to get in her way!” The two girls laughed.

  “Yes, I bet you’ll have to beat them back with a feather duster in California, you lucky thing.” Candice sighed and leaned back in her chair, one hand resting across her forehead, no doubt picturing Christy surrounded by admiring
cowboys.

  Christy chuckled, “Perhaps you should move with me.”

  “I’d love to, only I’d never be allowed. I can’t believe your parents gave you the choice. Mine never would.”

  “Well, I promise to write and tell you all about it. And if it is wonderful, maybe you’ll find a way to join me.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea. Does your mother still insist on you becoming a teacher?”

  “Yes,” Christy’s face turned gloomy. “She says I must make my own way in the world until I marry. I’m to study for my teaching certificate as soon as we get settled in San Francisco.”