Pearl of Promise (A Sweet Mail Order Bride Western) (The Brides of Carville) by Raina King Page A

sleep?”
    Arlen looked at her a long moment, then burst into laughter.  “Can’t say as I have.  I’d be more likely to go looking to the natives for food and shelter—they’ve lived here for thousands of years before we came, and they do a sight better at providing for themselves than the greenhorn miners do.”
    Nora frowned.  Is he making fun at my expense? “How am I supposed to know?  Those stories must come from somewhere.”
    “What stories?”
    “The stories in my books.  I read one where an Indian hid out in the family’s barn, then waited until nightfall, and—”
    He scowled in her direction.  “Those books came from somewhere, alright.  From the author’s imagination.”
    “But they’re based on real-life events, they say, and—”
    “I have no doubt they do say that,” he said, “but if you ask me, they’re lying or exaggerating, to get higher book sales.  Stories like that are few and far between, and the newspapers and dime store novels always make it sound like it happens every day.  Maybe if they didn’t exaggerate so much, they wouldn’t be suckering people into giving up all they have and coming west in search of gold, only to find ruin.”
    She noticed his hard expression.  “What do you mean, ruin?”
    He clenched his jaw and looked out over the road ahead.  “Many a miner has come out here after hearing stories of riches and gold, only to find out they aren’t true.”
    “They’re not?”
    He shook his head.  “The gold was played out a few years after it was first found.  Now it’s all about the silver.  But I’ve been here ten years, and haven’t found more than a few ounces in all that time.”
    “That’s why you went to work for the big mine?”
    “Yeah.  Didn’t have much choice.  I still work my claim, but my job at the mine is what puts food on my table.  The ore I find barely pays for the claim fees and my equipment expenses.”
    “Oh.”  She was at a loss for what to say.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  Why haven’t you moved back east?”
    He cast her a strange look—whether it was annoyance or something else, Nora couldn’t say.
    “A trip like that takes money.  It took all we had.  We sold almost everything.  I don’t think Sylvie ever forgave me for that.”
    The mention of Arlen’s late wife made Nora’s heart skip a beat.  “Why did you come out, then, if she never wanted to?”
    “Foolishness.  Like I said, those books make you believe almost anything is possible out here.  You’d think the streets are paved with gold, the way it’s depicted.  It’s a beautiful land out here, Nora.  It grows on you, and makes you never want to leave.  But never forget, Colorado is a harsh mistress—you forget how dangerous she can be, and she’ll see you dead.”
    A shiver rippled through Nora—trepidation mixed with delight.  “So hair-raising things do happen out here?”
    “Hair-raising?  Yes, I guess so.  There’s always a few greenhorns that freeze to death each winter.  Or some drunken fools battling it out over a card game down at the saloon.  And then there’s the mining accidents.”
    “Mining accidents?”  The thrill Nora had felt was dashed, as if she’d been doused with a pail of icy water.  “What kind of accidents?”
    “Mining isn’t exactly a safe occupation,” Arlen said, casting her a sideways glance.  “Even if you’re working your own claim with pans, sluices, pick-axes, etc., you can still have an accident.  But down in the commercial mines?  There are cave-ins, lack of fresh air, head injuries…” he trailed off as he saw the look on Nora’s face.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you.  I’ve never had an accident myself.  I’m careful.”
    “Have other ‘careful’ men had accidents?”
    Arlen pressed his lips together.  “Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”
    They rode on in silence.  Nora was sick to her stomach.  She’d been married less than an