Mail Order Baron (The Brides of Tombstone Book 3)

Mail Order Baron

The Brides of Tombstone

Cynthia Woolf

Mail Order Baron

Copyright © 2015 by Cynthia Woolf

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1-938887-64-2

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Mail Order Baron
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Firehouse Publishing

Photo credits – Jenifoto, Scott Prokop Photography and Period Images

Digital formatting – Author E.M.S.

Books written by Cynthia Woolf can be obtained either through the author’s official website:

www.cynthiawoolf.com

or through select, online book retailers.

DEDICATION

For my wonderful husband Jim who supports me in all my endeavors. I love you more than mere words can express.

CHAPTER 1

March 6, 1883

Tombstone, Arizona Territory

Molly McGregor looked out the window of the stage as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the Tombstone Hotel. In the waning light the two-story structure was the tallest building on the street for as far as she could see.

“We’re here folks,” Sam, the stage driver, opened the door and helped Molly down the narrow stairs to the ground.

The dry, hot air made her throat tight. It was so different than the humidity of New York. Even though her fiancé, Mr. Benjamin King, had told her to be prepared, it was still hotter than she imagined it would be.

She looked around for her Mr. King. According to his letters, he was tall, with brown hair and gray eyes. Not that she could tell the color of anyone’s eyes from this distance. The street teemed with people, up and down the boardwalk and crossing the street, without a care to their safety. They seemed to assume that the wagons and horses would simply avoid them.

This was a town where Tom Marlow wouldn’t be able to find her. It was clear across the country from New York, surely she was safe. She might not have insisted on coming out so soon, if the police hadn’t informed her of Tom’s escape. No, she thought the Arizona Territory and Tombstone in particular were the perfect place for her to hide.

Not seeing Mr. King anywhere, she went into the hotel, he was purported to own. Pausing in the doorway she admired the stuffed chairs surrounding a low dark wood table. The clerk stood behind a highly polished wood counter.

She walked over to him. “I’d like to see Mr. King. I’m Molly McGregor. He was to meet me—”

“Oh, yes.” The clerk was a frazzled looking young man with blond hair and spectacles that he kept pushing up his nose. “I’m so sorry. I was supposed to be outside waiting for you. I forgot. Please don’t tell Mr. King, he’d be furious.”

Molly stiffened. What kind of man was her fiancé that he would elicit such fear from an employee? “I won’t say anything. Where is Mr. King?”

“He had to go to one of his mines and then he was checking on the progress of his new house. It’s going to be the biggest in the territory.”

“Really? Did he forget that I was coming or just not care?” Molly’s jaw clenched. Checking his mines and his house was more important that meeting his future wife?

“Oh, no ma’am. Please,” the young man waved his hands, palms out, “this is all my fault. I was supposed to meet you and explain that Mr. King will be here as soon as possible. An accident occurred at the mine and he had to go oversee the rescue. A dozen men were injured. He went with Doc Reynolds to see if he could assist in getting out the trapped miners.”

Molly’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh, my goodness. I had no idea. Please keep me informed if you hear anything.”

“Yes ma’am. Now let me show you to your suite. Is that your trunk on the boardwalk in front of the hotel?”

“Yes. Can you have someone bring it to whatever room you’re showing me?”

“Certainly. Come this way please.”

He took her around the first floor to the back. The hall was covered in a dark carpet the color of red wine and the walls were painted a cream color that looked quite lovely against the dark of the floor. It was much quieter down here without all the hubbub of the street out front.

“Here we are suite 104. Mr. King saves this suite for his special guests. Seeing as how you’re marrying him, I guess that makes you pretty special.”

Molly dropped her gaze to the floor. She wasn’t special in any way. If she had been maybe she wouldn’t have still been unmarried at twenty-eight and become a mail order bride. No, she wasn’t special, but it was nice to pretend she was, if only for a moment. “Thank you, ah, what is your name?”

“I’m Gilbert, miss. Gilbert Hastings.”

“Thank you, Gilbert.”

“You’re welcome, miss. This is your key.” He held it up for her to see. “I’ll let Mr. King know you are here as soon as he returns.”

“Very good.”

He inserted the key, turned it, and then opened the door. Gilbert held the door open and let Molly pass in front of him.

As she entered Molly was surprised at the room’s beauty. She hadn’t expected anything so luxurious here in the Wild West. In the parlor was a beautiful blue brocade settee across from two Queen Anne chairs done in blue damask. Between the sofa and the chairs was a dark wood coffee table. Over in the corner stood a small desk and chair that matched the table. Molly put her reticule and her gloves on the desk.

In the next room was an iron bed that had been painted white and covered with a gorgeous patchwork quilt done in shades of blue to match the drapes and carpet. Made from the same dark wood as the parlor furniture was a four-drawer bureau with mirror, a tall boy dresser, and a nightstand on either side of the bed. A commode stood against the wall next to the door to the closet. On top of the small piece of furniture was a lovely ceramic basin with a matching pitcher sitting in the bowl.

She opened the top drawer and found wash cloths, small hand towels and two bath towels. The drawer below that, and next to the door for the cubby holding the chamber pot, held fragrant rose-scented soap. He’d obviously remembered from their letters that was her favorite scent. That was so sweet.

A knock sounded from the parlor.

Good her trunks were being delivered. She walked out to answer the door.

“Come in, and put the…” She looked up and nearly swallowed her tongue. A handsome man with golden brown hair that curled at his collar and the prettiest soft gray eyes she’d ever seen stood before her. “Hello, ma…may I help you?”

“I should hope so. You are Molly McGregor are you not?”

“I am.” She cocked her head, suddenly knowing the identity of this person. “And you would be Benjamin King, if I’m having a good day.”

He grinned. “Then I guess you’re having a good day.” He extended his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss McGregor.”

His hand was warm and the skin smooth. He hadn’t done physical labor for some time. “I’m glad you were able to find the time to come see me, Mr. King.”

“I’m Ben. Mr. King was my father, who is long gone now. And I came as quick as I could, Miss McGregor.” His eyes turned dark as icy storm clouds.

Oh dear, he had every right to be angry with her. The words she spoke were ill chosen. “Yes, Ben, I’m sorry. I know you did and I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Please forgive me and come in. And call me Molly. It seems rather silly to be so formal when we are to be married.” She stood back and let him pass in front of her. Then she closed the door behind him. “The rooms are lovely.”

“Yes, the view is lovely.”

She turned and saw he was looking at her, not the room.

Her gaze dropped and she felt the heat in her cheeks.

Molly took a breath and looked up at him. “I…uh…understand there was an accident at one of your mines today. I’m so sorry. What happened, and is everyone all right?”

“Yes, the braces on part of a tunnel collapsed and trapped some of the workers. There were a few minor injuries. No deaths. The trapped men have been freed and so all is well.”

“Thank God for that.” Molly clasped her hands in front of her.

“Thank my engineers for making sure there were no long sections without bracing. Because they insisted that I put braces every twenty feet, only a couple of men were injured and none severely.”

“I’m so glad. Gilbert also indicated you also went to check on a house you’re having built.”

“Yes, our house. I didn’t think you’d want to live in a hotel for the rest of your life.”

Again, her cheeks heated.
I’m very comfortable with him. It’s as though our relationship is simply picking up from our last letter
. “You’re right about that. I would rather have a home. One with room for a garden and a place for children to play, outside in a fenced area so they don’t get run over by horses and buggies.”

“I think you’ll be happy with the house. Next time I go out there, I’ll take you so you can see it for yourself.”

“I’d love to go.” She looked around and realized they were still standing. “Would you care to sit?” Molly waved her arm toward the settee.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

She walked to the sofa and sat.

Ben sat on the opposite end.

Close but not too close. Quite proper.

Molly raised her chin just a bit, but then blurted out. “I thought we’d get to know each other before we have the actual marriage ceremony.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, did you? I thought, based on your letters, you wanted to get married right away. Therefore, the wedding is scheduled for ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“What?” She swallowed hard and her stomach knotted. “But, but…”

“You seem to be stuck on ‘but’. Let me see if I can help.” He waved his hand toward her. “But, of course, Ben. I’m looking forward to being your wife.”

“Well, yes, I am looking forward to being your wife. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought, that you’d avoid the marriage bed. Does making love scare you that much?”

“A little and this conversation is totally improper.

He grinned. “A little? And I’d say any conversation between two soon-to-be wed individuals is proper.”

She clenched her hands together in her lap and was silent for a moment and realized she was actually terrified.

“All right, then the thought scares me a lot.” Though her parents were dead, Molly remembered Robert, her brother, had just been born when her mother told her the marriage bed was to be avoided except for making children. She said she had wanted to stop with Molly but her father had insisted they keep trying for a boy. Since she’d had his son, Molly’s father then acquired a mistress and left her mother alone. She’d never seen her mother happier.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. Trust me.”

Molly looked at the handsome man next to her. He would be her husband, so she’d better trust him, or get the heck out of here now. But she was ready to stop running. Surely Tom Marlow couldn’t find her here. Tombstone, ramshackle and crude as it was, was so far from New York. Tom would die here with no indoor facilities. He was used to only the best. He wore the best suits money could buy and ate at the finest restaurants. Tombstone was definitely not a place Tom would think to come to.

“You are totally outrageous, but I’ll trust you, though I can’t say why I should. With that devilish look in your eyes, I should be running as fast as I can in the other direction.”

He barked with laughter.

She laughed, too. She couldn’t resist. She unclenched her hands and laid them easily in her lap.

“You have a wonderful laugh.” He moved a little closer. “I hope I get to hear it for many, many years to come.”