Lessie_Bride of Utah Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Autographed by the Author

  Book Description

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

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  Books by Kristin Holt

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Book 45

  American Mail-Order Brides Series

  by

  www.KristinHolt.com

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  Book Description

  Lessie: Bride of Utah is forty-fifth in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides Series.

  Lessie and her twin sister Josie are entirely on their own. When the Brown Textile Mill burns and Lessie loses her job, long-unemployed Josie insists they seize the opportunity for a fresh start with a pair of husbands in Utah Territory… their best chance of remaining together.

  The illusion shatters minutes after the wedding ceremonies when Lessie’s new husband Richard Cannon sends the other couple far away to New Mexico Territory. Cannon Mining is under attack from within, and Lessie’s husband requires her help to bridge the chasm between his silver-spoon upbringing and the workers he employs— men who won’t hesitate to kill to achieve their goals.

  Can a genuine and abiding love be forged from a marriage of convenience?

  Copyright © 2015--2016 Kristin Holt, LC

  www.KristinHolt.com

  Kindle ISBN- 10: 1-63438-023-1

  Kindle ISBN- 13: 978-1-63438-023-2

  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.

  eBook and Paperback Cover designs © 2015 by Teresa Allen: [email protected]

  eBook and Paperback interior design by Kristin Holt.

  Dedication

  Lessie: Bride of Utah is dedicated with utmost respect to Diane Lashley, a *Pioneer Hearts Member. Diane loaned me the names of her granddaughters, Lessie Anne Cannon and Josie Anne Taylor. In real life, I believe these little girls are cousins, and Lessie’s nickname is indeed Loose Cannon (which you’ll see I borrowed). In my pair of novels within the American Mail-Order Brides Series, the young ladies are identical twins and wholly fictitious characters. I don’t know the first thing about the personalities of the real Lessie Cannon and real Josie Taylor.

  As these two names are extra precious to Diane, I worked diligently to ensure my fictitious Josie and Lessie (Josie: Bride of New Mexico, release date 1-4-16) live up to their namesake’s expectations.

  With heartfelt appreciation, Diane. These two companion novels are for you.

  Note: *Pioneer Hearts is an amazing Facebook Group of Readers and Authors of Western Historical Romance (of all sensuality/heat levels). We talk about books we love, we jaw about history, and we all seem to love cowboys and the Old West. This group is 1500+ members strong, and less than 200 are authors, but we’re all the best of friends. Interacting with one another is a joy. You’ll find that this series, American Mail-Order Brides was conceived within the Pioneer Hearts group. All authors are members of Pioneer Hearts, and we’ve written this groundbreaking, unprecedented series with the sole intent of providing enjoyment and daily, ongoing reading pleasure for our friends.

  Chapter One

  GENTLEMEN SEEK PAIR OF BRIDES

  Utah Territory: Two hard-working businessmen cousins seek a pair of brides, connected by familial bonds, for immediate marriage. Candidates must be of European descent, Protestant, fluent in English, and between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five.

  Desirable characteristics: hard-working, factory or mill experienced, physically sound and of good health, cooperative by nature, desirous of companionship and marital harmony. Appearance unimportant, though slim of figure and pleasant of feature preferred.

  Irish Catholics, Jews, and Mormons need not apply.

  Address correspondence to Adam Taylor, in care of Cannon Mining, Ogden, Utah Territory.

  Lawrence, Massachusetts

  September, 1890

  “We have no hope of finding work,” Josie said. “We’re already down to one meal a day. We have no choice.”

  Lessie Hadley walked arm in arm with her twin sister Josie away from the park along the Merrimack River. The meeting of desperate women, all jobless since the Brown Textile Mill burned to the ground the week previous, had offered one viable solution.

  Mail order brides.

  A solution Josie clung to, with both hands.

  Lessie already knew what her sister wanted to do— Josie would cast her lot with any one of the potential husbands in Groom’s Gazette, and she’d do it immediately. Seven long months of unemployment had convinced Josie not a single job was to be found within Lawrence city limits.

  With more than one hundred former Brown Textile Mill employees now jobless— Lessie included— the desperate search for work had intensified.

  She hated having no choice.

  One way or the other, Lessie knew the two of them had to leave town.

  Josie held the Groom’s Gazette open, reading carefully as she walked. “I like the sound of this one.” She stumbled over a few words, but for the most part, it made sense. A farmer in Illinois. Good land. A house already built.

  “Do you see other Illinois advertisements?”

  They needed two. One husband for each of them.

  Josie peered more closely. “Not that I can see…”

  “Oooh!” Josie stopped abruptly. “Listen to this: Two hard-working busi… busi… businessmen?… cousins seek pair of brides, conn… conn… connected by fam… fam….”

  “Family?” Neither sister read well. Less than two formal years of schooling, barely remembered lessons from Ma, and long work hours requiring no reading from them had let whatever skills they possessed lapse.

  “No.” Josie focused on the type. “F-a-m-i-l-i-a-l.”

  “Familial, I think. It’s like family.”

  “Familial bonds, for imm… imm…imme-diate marr… marr-iage. Marriage.” Josie’s eyes lit. The newspaper crinkled as she grabbed Lessie’s forearms. “This sounds just perfect. Exactly what we need. Husbands to ensure we have a roof and meals and protection.”

  Lessie had long known her twin’s somewhat mistaken view on marriage, but how were they supposed to know what marriage was like, when neither had been married and their own parents gone so long they could hardly recall them?

  “I still don’t like the idea of marrying someone we’ve never met.” Lessie drew a shaky breath. “The only thing perfect about it is the idea of staying t
ogether.”

  “We had better write to these two gentlemen immediately. Before someone else snatches them up. There are other pairs of sisters among our jobless friends.”

  “Josie—”

  “Look. I’m done being the unemployed sister who lives off your charity. We both realize we can’t stay in Lawrence, not one more day. It’s time to accept our fate and move on.”

  Lessie had heard enough. “I am more than willing to share my food with you, more than willing to pay our room rent. You're my sister. You and I will stay together always.”

  “And this seems like a good way to make that happen.”

  “Why? Just because one ad caught your attention? What if one of the others within this Gazette is a better fit?”

  “They aren’t.” Josie folded her arms. “Listen to me, just once. I looked over the ads. There are several from California, a handful in Colorado, from names of places we’ve never heard of. How will we know if those towns are anywhere near each other?”

  “We ask Miss Miller, the matchmaker. She knows about these men.” Or at least Roberta said so. Roberta had always looked out for the ladies, had always been a fair and kind manager.

  “Why don’t we go right over to Miss Miller’s place and ask her about these two fellows in Utah Territory?”

  “Is that where they are? Utah?” Lessie’s stomach turned queasy. “I think I heard something about a war out there.”

  “Where?” Josie pulled her dark brows together? “In the territories?”

  Lessie had been so focused on her conversation with her sister, she didn’t notice the approach of three of their friends, Kitty, and sisters Leora and Lottie.

  “Utah?” Kitty linked her arm with Josie’s. “You’re not considering that advertisement for two brides to go to Utah Territory, are you?”

  “Well, we thought…”

  Leora and Lottie shared a glance, one that Lessie understood far too well. The kind of glance in which she and her own sister could communicate an entire unspoken conversation in a split second. Lessie witnessed distrust and more than a pinch of panic in that exchange.

  “Leora and I noticed that ad,” Lottie said, focusing on Lessie. They all knew Lessie was the ‘older’ sister, the head of the family. Ultimately, the decision would be hers.

  Lottie’s touch upon Lessie’s arm was soothing, warm, kind. “You do know Utah Territory is brimming with Mormons, don’t you? They practice polygamy, believe it’s legal and everything.”

  Josie opened the newspaper again. “I don’t think these two cousins are Mormon. What’s a Mormon?”

  Kitty chuckled darkly. “Everyone in Utah is Mormon. It’s a religious sect.”

  “Not true.” Leora peeked over Josie’s shoulder to better see the ad. “I’ve read all about the influx of miners, Protestants, Jews, Chinamen with the railroad… it may have been all Mormon ages ago, but anymore?”

  Josie pointed to the advertisement. “It says right here Mormons need not apply. If they were Mormon, they’d find a Mormon girl, right? And given they don’t want Mormon wives, must be they’re not. It says Irish Catholics, Jews, and Mormons need not apply.”

  “Heavily prejudiced,” one of the Mitchell sisters complained. “Most unflattering.”

  “What does the article say?" Kitty opened her own copy of Groom’s Gazette.

  “I'll read it to you,” Lottie offered, and Lessie couldn’t have been more glad.

  Lottie read well and never mixed words up or misunderstood.

  “Utah Territory,” Lottie read, “Two hard-working businessmen cousins seek a pair of brides, connected by familial bonds, for immediate marriage. Candidates must be of European descent, Protestant, fluent in English, and between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five.

  Desirable characteristics: hard-working, factory or mill experienced, physically sound and of good health, cooperative by nature, desirous of companionship and marital harmony. Appearance unimportant, though slim of figure and pleasant of feature preferred.

  Irish Catholics, Jews, and Mormons need not apply.

  Address correspondence to Adam Taylor, in care of Cannon Mining, Ogden, Utah Territory."

  Lottie raised her brows. “That’s a lengthy ad. The longest one in the bunch. I’d say they’re wealthy, or they could never afford so many words.”

  One thing continued nagging at Lessie. “If these men, these cousins, have plenty of money, why send for wives? I thought only desperate men or fellows living in isolated places had to resort to ordering a wife by mail.”

  “Could be any reason at all.” Kitty shrugged. “Money doesn’t always attract the best candidates for matrimony.”

  Lessie couldn’t hide her natural reaction. “But an advertisement in a newspaper does?”

  “Could be exactly what they say their problem is, without saying so. They’re miners, probably the owners, given the way the advert is worded. Mining camps aren’t exactly in town now, are they?” Lottie folded the paper and tucked it beneath her arm. “They don’t want Jews or Mormons or Irish Catholics. So likely, they’re none of the above. Maybe the only possible wives in Utah Territory are Irish Catholic, Jews, or Mormons.”

  “I don't think it's wise,” Kitty whispered near Lessie’s ear. “It seems too risky. They’re awfully focused on religion.”

  Josie obviously overheard. “But this is the one advertisement in the entire edition where two women are wanted. It’s our one chance to stay together.”

  Lessie agreed, but only to a point, “If we decide to work through Miss Miller and her matchmaker contacts.”

  Josie let out a shriek of aggravation. “We’ve been over this so many times I could scream. We have no other choices, Lessie Anne Hadley. None. You’ve been feeding yourself and me for the past seven months. We know there are no jobs to be had. I say we go.”

  The desperation in her twin sister’s voice, the panic sparking in her dark eyes, struck Lessie in the heart. “All right. We go. Sounds like we need to write a letter to these two men.”

  Josie eyed every last woman in the circle. Lessie watched her sister’s sad expression and knew what her twin would say, even before she gave the words utterance. “We don’t have time to wait a month for a letter to get to Utah Territory and for a response to come back. We’re out of money.” Josie focused on Lessie’s eyes, held her gaze, and the raw anguish there became Lessie’s own.

  Lessie could have doubled over from the onslaught of pain.

  “Rent will be due soon. We have no money.”

  True, but not something Lessie wanted everyone else to know. It was her job to protect and care for her sister. Her job to ensure they ate.

  She wasn’t ready to admit defeat.

  Hot tears stung her eyes and constricted her throat. Embarrassment always flooded her cheeks with color and she imagined she looked a fright.

  She decided to deflect attention. “They do say they’re two men, don’t they? And they each seek a wife?” She didn’t read well enough to trust her own interpretation and all the talk about polygamy seemed a good enough reason to avoid Utah Territory.

  “Two men. Cousins,” Lottie verified. “Each seeking one bride. They don’t admit to being polygamists. You have no guarantee you won’t get there and find out you’re someone’s fourth wife.”

  Fourth?

  Lessie nearly choked. The expression on her twin’s face must be a mirror image of her own. Horror mingled with severe panic.

  Lottie giggled. “She’s jesting.” She swatted her own sister, Leora, with the folded up newspaper. “I’d say these two are as good a bet as anyone else in this circular. What can it hurt to ask Miss Miller what else she knows of them?”

  What, indeed? Except that would lead to Josie’s rounded eyes, pleading expression, so hopeful… and she, Lessie, had to make the decision that would seal their fate. If they didn’t act, someone else might. And they’d lose the opportunity— the possibility— of staying together.

  Maybe this bride idea was en
tirely wrong for the Hadley twins.

  “I will gladly loan you the money for a letter, better yet, a telegram.” Kitty’s gentle arm about Lessie’s shoulders accompanied the kind offer. “When your husband-to-be forwards money for your journey, you can repay me.”

  Lessie swallowed the knot in her throat. Too much emotion. Too much kindness. Too much attention focused on her, all at once. “Thank you, Kitty.”

  “You’re welcome.” Kitty smiled, warm and big and gracious. “Let’s go see Miss Miller right now, you two. Come with me.”

  Lessie shook off the gloom, linked her arm with her twin’s, and followed Kitty, even as she waved goodbye to the Mitchell sisters.

  She knew, without question, Miss Miller would encourage Josie’s hope. A telegram would be sent, and one thing would lead to another. The men would likely reply— and she hoped they did. After all, what other choice did she and Josie have?

  She knew a transcontinental journey to Utah Territory lay in their near future.

  Their lot was cast.

  Chapter Two

  Ogden City, Utah Territory

  October 8, 1890

  Richard Cannon finished knotting his necktie has he hurried down the staircase. At the entryway of his home, Adam’s voice blended with the telegram courier’s.

  By the tone of their mingled conversation, something dreadful had happened.

  “When did these arrive?” Adam’s voice rose in pitch. Most abnormal.

  In more than twenty years, Richard had never, not once, heard Adam frantic.

  Until now.

  Richard strode through the vestibule to meet Adam and the familiar courier in the shade of the front porch.

  “Within ten minutes of one another, sir.” The messenger, a young man of perhaps twenty, darted a glance between Adam and Richard. “The operator told me to hold, as your second telegram—”