Western Kisses – Old West Christmas Romances (Boxed Set)

Copyright© 2013 by Rising Books 

The Man from Cripple Creek Copyright© 2013 by Carré White 
Almost Lonely Copyright© 2013 by Anya Karin 
Mail Order Matron Copyright© 2013 by Kirsten Osbourne 
Unwanted Bride Copyright© 2013 by Flora Dare 
Romancing Rosalie Copyright© 2013 by AnnMarie Oakes

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For new releases from this group of authors, 
join our email list
!

The Man from Cripple Creek
By Carré White 

Almost Lonely
By Anya Karin 

Mail Order Matron
By Kirsten Osbourne 

Unwanted Bride
By Flora Dare 

Romancing Rosalie
By AnnMarie Oakes

By Carré White

After the ravages of Smallpox left her scarred for life, Willow Brady had resigned herself to spinsterhood. A chance meeting with a rugged stranger changes everything, as she’s drawn to his sadness, which mirrors her own.

Traveling west to seek his fortune, Guss Hindman has weathered hard times and survived a wife, who has recently died. Upon meeting Willow, he sees a shy, timid little thing, who’s afraid of her own shadow, yet their connection is undeniable.

Guss isn’t afraid to take a chance and follow his heart, but will Willow learn that love is more than skin deep? Sometimes the simplest gifts are the most meaningful, as love is the best present of all.

The Kansas Territory, August 1859

My sister stood before the mirror brushing her long, blonde hair. Exhausted still, even after a good night’s sleep, I lay in bed and watched her, while the sound of talking seeped through the wall.

“There aren’t any rooms left,” Leona said. “The last one was taken yesterday.” She’d grasped the silken tresses, twisting them into a bun. “Ma’s excited about the money this’ll bring.”

“Which means more work for us. I didn’t sit for three minutes yesterday.”

She thrust several pins through the twisted knot, securing it in place. “I know. I didn’t either.” Once this was accomplished, a frilly cap went on her head, hiding all her efforts. Her expression was thoughtful in the mirror; bright blue eyes flashed, surrounded by flawless, milky-white skin. “The gold rush is a boon for everyone. Pa’s been countin’ money. He’s stuffed his mattress with it.”

Miners had flooded the area, some even bringing their families, leaving farms back east. They arrived daily, driving teams of oxen and cows from St. Joseph, Missouri in wagons we referred to as “prairie schooners”. The Pike’s Peak gold rush had begun the year before and secretly years earlier, but now the town of Cripple Creek boomed, flush with prospecting cash. We had benefited, as had other businesses, but the workload had become almost unbearable.

“We need to hire another maid, at least,” I said.

“Shouldn’t you get ready, Willow? Ma will call for us soon. Breakfast won’t make itself you know.”

“Oh, gracious.” I yawned, stretching.

“I’ll tell her you’ll be down, if she asks.” She dunked her hands in a bowl of tepid water. “I’m quite eager to get to work, to be honest. It’s pleasantly diverting. There are some handsome men in this bunch. They’re not nearly as smelly or rough-looking as the miners from last week.”

My sister was adored wherever she went. Her fair looks and sweet personality sent men flocking to her side, even the aged and married ones. “How many proposals have you had now?”

“Thirteen,” she gushed. “Although only two were serious.”

“Was that just yesterday?”

“No,” she giggled. “In the last six months.”

“You can do better than that.”

Her grin was infectious. “I’m enjoying this far too much. It’s all in good fun. Most of those men have wives back east.”

“No doubt.”

“But,” she preened before the mirror, “a girl can flirt a bit. It’s hardly my fault if they’re lonely and lacking in companionship.”

A familiar pain registered, the feeling so deep it thudded low and hard, fanning out into my bloodstream and racing through me like a drug. “You’ll fall in love one of these days. Be careful. Whoever he is will take you away from us.” Then I would be deprived of gazing upon her beauty and basking in the warmth of her presence. I adored my sister. I worshipped her. I wished—more than anything—that I was her.

She approached the bed, sitting next to me. “And you too.” She touched my face briefly, smiling. “You’ll marry as well. Let’s pray we meet men who want to stay here. I can’t imagine leaving Cripple Creek. This is home. This valley is all I know.”

I wrapped my arms around her, enjoying the sweet smell of her skin. “I’d be happy to manage your children. I can already envision several blue-eyed, blonde-haired little angels scampering about.”

“Then my children shall play with yours.”

Feeling slightly uneasy, I threw the covers aside. “I had best get ready. I can smell bread baking. Ellen’s been working since five.”

“With no vacancy, the dining room will be full. I’m going to start setting the tables.”

Leona helped in the kitchen at times, but her job was to see to our customers, delivering drinks and food and giving them the keys to their rooms. Although our hotel, The Brady Inn, was now full to capacity, father was scrambling to finish several attic rooms. He’d been banging away late into the night, which had upset the patrons. When those rooms were finished, we would earn even more revenue.

There was a commotion in the hallway. “Leona and Willow!” said mother. “Up and at ‘em!”

“Yes, Ma.” Leona sighed. “Is it uncharitable to long for Sunday already?”

“No, not at all, but, if all the chores aren’t finished by then, we’ll end up working that day too.”

She jumped to her feet. “I’m going! I want a full day off, you hear. One whole day.”

I grasped my hair, which was honey-colored, collecting it in a thick ponytail, which I would braid. “Indeed.”

“See you in the slave mine.” She opened the door, revealing the figure of a plump, sturdy-looking woman. “Ellen. How are you?”

“I’m good, Miss Brady,” she said in a raspy, high-pitched voice. “But we’ve got some early risers lookin’ for food. I’m half beside myself.”

“I’ll help you.” I glanced at her through the mirror. “I need to finish this, and I’ll be down.” I quickly pinned the hair into a rounded, functional bun. Then a white cap hid the handiwork.

“I’ve bread and coffee. That’ll keep ‘em for a bit, but they look awfully hungry. I’m guessin’ they was workin’ all night.”

My sister had already left. “Oh, goodness. Put eggs on to boil, and I’ll fetch a slab of meat from the smokehouse.”

“I’ve done that already.”

“Thank you.” I glanced at my dress in the mirror to determine if I had buttoned everything properly. The collar was modest, the fabric a yellow calico, which would soon be hidden beneath an apron. “Let’s go then.” I turned from the image, hurrying for the door.

An hour later, several loaves of bread had baked to golden perfection, gravy was made, and biscuits were stacked on a large metal tray. Our menu was simple, but hearty. There were generous offerings of meat, either ham or steak, along with eggs, cooked in various ways. One tray alone held all the bacon.

I enjoyed being in the kitchen, feeling entirely at home among sacks of flour and hanging metal pots. I’d learned how to cook when I was younger than ten years of age, when my mother and father had built the inn. Ellen and I were a formidable team, as she was skilled in baking as well. Being of German heritage, she was adept at making sausages and sauerkraut. For the price of the room, the patrons were given breakfast and dinner, and they never failed to be hungry.

Leona bustled into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed. “I’ve got six more who need plates.”

“Be my guest.” Ellen indicated the table. “We’ll have more ready in a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Leona hurried back and forth, while we continued to work. Coffee brewed in a metal pot. When she returned moments later, she said, “Goodness! Every seat is filled! Not only that, but Mayor Walden’s here.” Our reputation for delicious, quality meals brought in the locals as well, but they would have to pay for the fare, unless they had a room here.

“He loves Willow’s cookin’, yes he does.” Ellen grinned.

It was always a thrill to be lauded for my efforts, as I prided myself in my job. Nothing pleased me more than a heaping plate of food that smelled heavenly, while each bite produced a groan of pleasure from whoever ate it.

“There’s a man asking to meet the chef,” said Leona. “I told him you’d be right out.”

The bliss I had just experienced evaporated. I turned my back to her, facing the cook stove. “I’m…far too busy for that.”

“Surely you could take a moment to come speak to him. He’s newly arrived in these parts. He’s awfully handsome.”

“Then you should talk to him. It’s your society they crave.” I had seen firsthand how the patrons followed Leona’s every movement, as she was so lovely and gregarious. “I need to whisk the lumps out of this gravy.”

“I’ll take those plates,” said Leona. “I’ll be back.”

Ellen sliced through a large chunk of ham. “What time is it?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Almost nine.”

“Breakfast will be over soon, thank goodness. I need to sit for a spell. My knee is aching.”

“I’d love a cup of coffee.”

There were hundreds of dishes stacked near the wash area. “Lordy, we’ll be washin’ till noon.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Leona had returned. “He’s quite adamant about talking to you, Willow. He won’t be dissuaded. He wants to thank you for your cooking. You really need to come out and say something to him.”

I swallowed, the saliva feeling like a lump stuck in my throat. “I’ve so much to do.”

“Nonsense! The rush is over. There are only a handful of people left, including ma and pa. They’re with the mayor.”

She seemed determined to put me through this—this ordeal. “H-how many people?”

“Five or six.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Everyone else has left.” She picked up a metal pot. “Oh, I forgot. He wants another coffee too.”

“Fine.” I dunked my hands into a bowl of water, drying them on a towel. “Which one is he?”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” said Ellen. “I’ll fill two more plates for the late arrivals and then start on the dishes.”

Leaving the protective shroud of the kitchen had produced a formidable knot in my belly that had lodged almost painfully. Following my sister, I hid close behind her, determined to keep my gaze on her back and not the dining room, although my mother’s laughter rang out. She sat with pa and the mayor, and the conversation seemed lively.

“There he is,” murmured Leona, leading me to a table against the wall, which was occupied by a single diner. His wide-brimmed hat hung over a vacant chair, while he sat staring at the coffee cup before him. “Here’s Willow, our esteemed cook, sir. You said you wanted to meet her. Well, here she is.”

Before I had reached him, a man at a nearby table whispered, “Poor girl. Looks like she’s had the smallpox.”

No one but myself had heard him speak, and, as I approached the stranger, I braced myself for the look of revulsion that was sure to occur, once he set his eyes on me.

The stranger smiled kindly, the edges of his eyes creasing, while his gaze was unwavering, roaming over my face. “I wanted to meet the person who could make gravy exactly like my wife.”

I stood before him, hardly knowing what to say, my fingers having slid into the pockets of the apron. It was a protective gesture, and I began to feel calmer. “Thank you.”