Violet's Mail Order Husband (Montana Brides #1)

Violet’s Mail Order Husband

Montana Brides: Book 1

Kate Whitsby

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Kate Whitsby

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

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Dedication

To YOU, The reader.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for your emails.

Thank you for your reviews.

Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

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Chapter 1

You know I don’t approve of your mail-order husband idea, Violet. Cornell Pollard shuffled the papers on his desk and bristled his eyebrows over the top of his spectacles.

Violet Kilburn lounged her long, slender body on a divan across the room, her brown eyes gazing out the library window at nothing in particular. Rocking Horse Ranch spread out before her, but she didn’t take much notice of it. Her thoughts wandered elsewhere. Yes, I know you don’t approve, Cornell. You’ve only told me about a thousand times. She touched her straight auburn hair, put up in curls on top of her head, but didn’t adjust it.

Whatever possessed you to get a mail-order husband, I’ll never understand. Cornell laid down one paper and picked up another. You know, I have young men in mind for you and your sisters, young men who will suit you better than perfect strangers.

Yes, I know you have young men in mind for us, Violet returned. That’s precisely why we chose to get mail-order husbands. We want to marry men of our own choosing. Surely that’s not too difficult for you to understand.

I understand it, Cornell replied. I just don’t think it’s a very wise policy. For one thing, you aren’t marrying men of your own choosing. You’re marrying strangers picked out of a hat. You have no notion of these men’s true motive. They might be marrying you for your fortune. Did you ever consider that?

Marrying us for our fortune? Violet repeated. "You mean, like the men you have picked out for us? I can guarantee they would be marrying us for our fortune and nothing else. Of that I am quite certain."

Cornell’s head shot up and he gaped at Violet. What has gotten into you, child? I’ve never seen you so petulant before.

Violet scowled at him from her couch. I’m not a child, Cornell. I’m twenty-three years old, and I want to get married. That’s all you need to know about it.

You’ve never acted like this before, Cornell exclaimed. You’ve always been so sensible about things in the past. I worry you’ve quite taken leave of your senses.

I haven’t taken leave of my senses just because I won’t do what you want me to do. Violet turned back to the window. If I’ve been so sensible in the past, you should trust me not to do anything foolish now. I know what I’m doing, and there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.

I only want what’s best for you and your sisters, my dear. Cornell’s voice took on the pleading whine of an old man with no other weapons in his arsenal. You’re my nieces and my wards, and I only want to see you happily married to men who will do you credit. I hate to think of you married to some rude cowboys with no refinement or breeding.

Violet sighed. I understand you want what’s best for us, Cornell. But there’s no point in arguing about it anymore. My sisters and I will drive down to the train station in Butte to pick the men up off the train today. The deed is done, and you can’t undo it by pestering me about it. So I would appreciate it if you would drop the whole subject.

I don’t know if I can do that, Cornell told her.

You better do it, Violet snapped. Because my sisters and I agree that we won’t stand for you harassing these men once they arrive. If you can’t accept the situation for what it is, then keep quiet.

Cornell stared at her. Then he shook his head and sighed down at his papers. I don’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Violet. I just don’t believe it.

Believe it. Violet compressed her lips and kept her eyes fixed on the scene outside the window.

The sunshine of early spring blazed down on the range outside. The green grass disappeared before the viewer’s eyes into the purple and blue of the horizon. A gust of wind sent ripples through the grass.

A split rail fence separated the yard in front of the ranch house from the open range beyond. A herd of cattle ambled by on the other side of the fence, and two or three figures on horseback rode among them and around them. They swung whips above their heads to keep the cattle moving, and a few scruffy dogs ran around barking at the cows’ heels. Even through the window, Violet heard the shouts and whistles of the cattle punchers urging the animals forward.

Violet spotted one of the riders veer off and steer toward the fence. The figure swung down from the saddle, tied the horse to the fence, and climbed over it. Then the lanky rider strode across the yard toward the house.

What was the point of wasting her breath trying to convince Cornell of anything? Heaven knew she’d spent the better part of her life in the futile attempt. He never listened to anything from anyone. He only cared for his own opinion.

She hadn’t relished the idea of contravening his desires by marrying a mail-order husband. She’d spent her life trying to please him. After her parents died, Cornell took over the management of Rocking Horse Ranch as well as the guardianship of Violet and her sisters. So Violet always treated him as a third parent. She never questioned his motives or his competence at handling their affairs.

But when he decided to arrange their marriages, Violet began to question her loyalty to Cornell. When she discussed the matter with her sisters, they agreed they wouldn’t allow Cornell to determine the rest of their lives.

Violet heard a door slam somewhere in another part of the house, and the next moment, the library door opened, and a young woman entered. Her blonde hair hung free around her face, and her sun-kissed cheeks glowed with the flush of activity. Violet exchanged a knowing smile with her middle sister.

Chapter 2

Iris Kilburn wore beaten canvas trousers, a buckskin jacket fringed up the sleeves, and rawhide chaps down her legs. She didn’t notice her tattered work boots leaving dusty footprints on the carpet. She carried a crumpled felt hat in hands covered by worn leather gloves,

Cornell glared at her. Honestly, Iris, I’ve asked you to change out of your work clothes before you come into the house. Look, you’re getting dust all over the place.

I didn’t change my clothes because I’m going right back out, Iris replied. I only came in to ask Violet when she wants to leave for Butte. I’ll change my clothes before we leave.

You’ll change your clothes before you leave for Butte, Cornell shot back. But you won’t change your clothes to keep the house clean.

That’s right, Iris replied. When do you want to leave, Violet?

As soon as you’re finished working, Violet replied. I’m waiting for you. We should leave as soon as possible. We have to get to the train station in time to pick up the men and get home before dark. That doesn’t give us much time.

Is Rose ready to go? Iris asked.

As far as I know, she is. Violet looked around as if l searching for their youngest sister. I haven’t seen her yet this morning.

All right. Iris headed back toward the door. You hunt up Rose, and I’ll put my horse away and change. Then we can leave.

I suppose you’re champing at the bit to get a mail-order husband, are you, Iris? Cornell scoffed. I didn’t know you’d suddenly taken such an interest in men.

I haven’t taken a sudden interest in men, Iris replied. Does it surprise you to learn that I’ve been interested in men all along? Well, I have. But I think Violet’s plan for us to get mail-order husbands is a sensible one, and I’m willing to go along with it.

And what exactly do you think is sensible about it? Cornell asked.

I’ve told you a million times, Cornell, Iris answered. This ranch desperately needs men—and not the kind of men you’d pick for us. The ranch doesn’t need any graduates of Eastern universities with specialties in politics or literature. It doesn’t need the sons of railroad magnates or shipping tycoons. What this ranch needs—and badly—are cowboys. We need men who know how to work cattle and run a cattle ranch. That’s what we need, and that’s what we got. That’s why I think it’s sensible.

This ranch doesn’t need any more cowboys than it already has, Cornell argued. We have Pete Kershaw and Wade Jackson. What else do we need? They do a good job, and the ranch is running fine. We don’t need any cowboys.

Pete is fifty, and Wade is pushing sixty, Iris shot back. They can barely do the work now, and they’ll only weaken further as they age.

Nonsense! Cornell spluttered. You’re exaggerating again, Iris.

"I’ve explained this to