Rocky Mountain Romp (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 4) by Lee Savino Page B
Authors: Lee Savino
Ads: Link
down next to his wife and put his arm around her. “You must find and keep a woman. That is how you’ll prove you’re serious about settling down.”
“And no whores,” Rose warned. “If you chose a painted lady and pay her, I will know.”
“But…there are no ladies in these parts other than saloon girls. I shall have to send for one.”
“It worked well for Mr. Martin,” Lyle said, a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Jesse blew out an exasperated breath. “What if we marry and she finds she’s not suited to life on a homestead?”
“She may leave, of course,” Rose said. “But you must marry and woo a woman, and bring her home and keep her for at least a month.”
“Not necessarily in that order,” Lyle suggested, and Rose frowned at him.
Jesse’s hand worried his hair. Take a wife—in exchange for a stake in the mine? “But come spring I have no income. I’ve finished all my obligations. How can I find a woman by then—in three feet of snow?”
“You’ll find a way.” Lyle grinned. “Unless you admit you can’t do it.”
Jesse looked from his brother to his redheaded sister-in-law. Rose had her eyes narrowed on him, and he knew the look well. She was a sharp lady, Lyle’s Rose, and saw right through Jesse. He was weighed in the balance and found wanting.
With an exasperated sound, he stomped out of the room. The festive crackle of the fire, and memory of all the couple’s grinning madly at one another did nothing to soothe his mood. He tromped to his bedroll, and his flask.
Three drinks later, he felt better. Lyle could take Rose and her haughty ways; the women in the West were too hard for him. He needed someone soft, loving, like little Carrie Donovan, though he better not let Miles know it. Donovan would kill any man who looked at his wife wrong.
Yes, Jesse decided, he needed a woman. Someone sweet and curvy in all the right places. A pretty lady, waiting for him to sweep her off her feet.
It wasn’t until after midnight, when he was back at the table, breaking off a piece of pie for a late night snack, that he saw the picture of his future bride. Carrie’s letter lay on the table, with the picture, envelope and all. Jesse took up the daguerreotype. In the low firelight, Susannah’s face in the picture glowed. She sat so prim and proper in her chair, poised and serene. Here was a lady. A real Boston lady.
“Susannah.” He tried the name and smiled as if it tasted sweet. He liked how she was perfectly coiffed and camera ready, but there was something determined in her expression. Maybe it was the lively glint in her eye, or maybe it was the little smile on her face that threw him a challenge. He wanted to see that smile in person. He bet, given a few minutes with the lovely Susannah, he could tease it out of her.
With a quick glance around the silent room, everyone sleeping, he pocketed the picture, and the letter.
He’d stay with Lyle until the snow melted enough for him to ride to Colorado Springs. As soon as he could, he would post a letter to Boston, and the smiling Susannah.
The End
Author’s Note:
In 1887, a Kansas City paper called “Matrimonial News” published the following ad:
“I am fat, fair, and 48, 5 feet high. Am a No. 1 lady, well fixed with no encumbrance: am in business in city, but want a partner who lives in the West. Want an energetic man that has some means, not under 40 years of age and weight not less than 180. Of good habits. A Christian gentleman preferred.”
I have no way of knowing whether this spunky spinster found true love, but I am forever grateful to her for posting this advertisement asking for exactly what she wanted. May her words live on to inspire all women searching for a partner.
Thanks to all of you who are reading the Rocky Mountain Bride Series. I’m having a blast writing in this world, and I want to make clear that the real frontier brides who traveled thousands of miles to find matrimony are my main
“And no whores,” Rose warned. “If you chose a painted lady and pay her, I will know.”
“But…there are no ladies in these parts other than saloon girls. I shall have to send for one.”
“It worked well for Mr. Martin,” Lyle said, a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Jesse blew out an exasperated breath. “What if we marry and she finds she’s not suited to life on a homestead?”
“She may leave, of course,” Rose said. “But you must marry and woo a woman, and bring her home and keep her for at least a month.”
“Not necessarily in that order,” Lyle suggested, and Rose frowned at him.
Jesse’s hand worried his hair. Take a wife—in exchange for a stake in the mine? “But come spring I have no income. I’ve finished all my obligations. How can I find a woman by then—in three feet of snow?”
“You’ll find a way.” Lyle grinned. “Unless you admit you can’t do it.”
Jesse looked from his brother to his redheaded sister-in-law. Rose had her eyes narrowed on him, and he knew the look well. She was a sharp lady, Lyle’s Rose, and saw right through Jesse. He was weighed in the balance and found wanting.
With an exasperated sound, he stomped out of the room. The festive crackle of the fire, and memory of all the couple’s grinning madly at one another did nothing to soothe his mood. He tromped to his bedroll, and his flask.
Three drinks later, he felt better. Lyle could take Rose and her haughty ways; the women in the West were too hard for him. He needed someone soft, loving, like little Carrie Donovan, though he better not let Miles know it. Donovan would kill any man who looked at his wife wrong.
Yes, Jesse decided, he needed a woman. Someone sweet and curvy in all the right places. A pretty lady, waiting for him to sweep her off her feet.
It wasn’t until after midnight, when he was back at the table, breaking off a piece of pie for a late night snack, that he saw the picture of his future bride. Carrie’s letter lay on the table, with the picture, envelope and all. Jesse took up the daguerreotype. In the low firelight, Susannah’s face in the picture glowed. She sat so prim and proper in her chair, poised and serene. Here was a lady. A real Boston lady.
“Susannah.” He tried the name and smiled as if it tasted sweet. He liked how she was perfectly coiffed and camera ready, but there was something determined in her expression. Maybe it was the lively glint in her eye, or maybe it was the little smile on her face that threw him a challenge. He wanted to see that smile in person. He bet, given a few minutes with the lovely Susannah, he could tease it out of her.
With a quick glance around the silent room, everyone sleeping, he pocketed the picture, and the letter.
He’d stay with Lyle until the snow melted enough for him to ride to Colorado Springs. As soon as he could, he would post a letter to Boston, and the smiling Susannah.
The End
Author’s Note:
In 1887, a Kansas City paper called “Matrimonial News” published the following ad:
“I am fat, fair, and 48, 5 feet high. Am a No. 1 lady, well fixed with no encumbrance: am in business in city, but want a partner who lives in the West. Want an energetic man that has some means, not under 40 years of age and weight not less than 180. Of good habits. A Christian gentleman preferred.”
I have no way of knowing whether this spunky spinster found true love, but I am forever grateful to her for posting this advertisement asking for exactly what she wanted. May her words live on to inspire all women searching for a partner.
Thanks to all of you who are reading the Rocky Mountain Bride Series. I’m having a blast writing in this world, and I want to make clear that the real frontier brides who traveled thousands of miles to find matrimony are my main
Similar Books
