Judith: Bride of Wyoming (American Mail-Order Bride 44) Read online

  Judith

  Bride of Wyoming

  Hildie McQueen

  Pink Door Publishing

  Augusta, Georgia 2015

  Judith

  Bride of Wyoming

  Copyright © Hildie McQueen 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  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 reader.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-939356-38-3

  Other Works by Hildie McQueen

  (In reading order)

  Heading West Series, Western Historical

  Where the Four Winds Collide

  Westbound Awakening

  Where the River Flows

  Shades of Blue Series, Western Historical

  Big Sky Blue

  A Different Shade of Blue

  The Darkest Blue

  Every Blue Moon

  Blue Horizon

  Montana Blue

  Midnight Blue

  Other Western Historical Works

  Beneath a Silver Sky

  The Widow’s Choice

  The McDougalls, Highland Historical

  Highlander’s Captive

  Seducing Her Laird

  Enticing Her Highlander

  Ravished by the Laird

  In the Warrior’s Arms

  Moriag Series, Highland Historical

  Beauty and the Highlander

  The Lass and the Laird

  Lady and the Scot

  The Laird’s Daughter

  The Wolf of Skye

  Prequel

  by Kirsten Osbourne

  Lawrence, Massachusetts, September, 1890

  Roberta McDaniel leaned back in her chair, rubbing her hands over her face. She’d been over the books three times and something just wasn’t adding up right. Nothing frightened her more than having to go to the owner about the discrepancies in the financial reports of the factory, but she was the manager and it was, therefore, her job. She’d called him in and he was supposed to be there any minute to talk to her about it. She said a quick prayer for courage.

  Bob Brown was in the doorway when she lifted her head. She put her hand over her heart to calm her nervousness. He closed the door and glared down at her. “You asked me to come in? You know I hate this place.”

  Roberta nodded. “I’m really sorry to have to ask you to come in, sir.” She got to her feet as she spoke. “Please, sit down. I have something important to discuss.”

  Bob took the seat across from her, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. He had dark hair that was always slicked back and she’d never seen him without a business suit. “If this is about your inability to keep track of the money coming in and out of this place, there’s no point in wasting time. Just get to the point.”

  Roberta frowned. “How did you know the books were off, Mr. Brown? I didn’t mention that in my note.”

  Bob shrugged. “I know everything that goes on in this factory.”

  “Did you take the money?” She knew she was being rude and insubordinate but, at that moment, she just didn’t care. She needed to get to the bottom of where the money was going and she had a very distinct feeling the problem was sitting right there in front of her.

  “What does it matter if I did? It’s my factory. The money is mine.”

  “It matters because I thought one of my employees was stealing from the company! It matters because I’ve spent four days going over the books and couldn’t figure out where the money was. It matters because you were supposed to let me know if you removed any money at all.”

  Bob shrugged again. “Your opinion doesn’t matter to me a great deal. I’m closing the factory, effective immediately.” He got to his feet and strode out the door.

  Roberta ran after him, catching his arm. “Mr. Brown, please! You can’t do that! There are over one hundred women working in this factory. You can’t just close it!”

  “I can and I will. Good day, Miss McDaniel!”

  Roberta touched the back of one of her closest friends, Sarah, who worked on one of the sewing machines there in the factory. “Come to my office,” she whispered softly.

  Sarah looked back over her shoulder, biting her lip. She and Roberta were roommates along with two of the other girls in the factory. They shared a small apartment just blocks from the factory. Sarah jumped up and followed Roberta into her office, closing the door. “What’s going on? You never call me in here during the day!” She frowned. “Did you talk to Mr. Brown?”

  Roberta looked down at her hands and realized she was shaking. “Yes. He’s the one that’s been taking the money and he said he’s closing the factory, effective immediately!” She shook her head. “But then he left. Am I supposed to tell everyone? How can I handle this?”

  Sarah sighed. “I know I always give the same answer to these things, but let’s pray about it. I don’t know how else we can get through.” She walked around the desk and took Roberta’s hand, praying softly for her friend to find the right words to say and to handle things in a loving way. Just as she whispered, “Amen” she heard the sound of breaking glass and the screams started.

  The two women looked at each other and ran toward the door. Roberta reached it first, wrenching it open. The sight that reached their eyes was pure pandemonium. Flames licked up the sides of the walls. Two of the windows were broken and that appeared to be where the fire had started from.

  Roberta called out loudly, “Get out! Everyone!”

  She and Sarah ran through the factory making sure all of the others got out. By one of the broken windows, where the fire was the worst, Roberta saw a rock. It was obvious the fire had been started deliberately and she knew just who had done it. Bob Brown was not a man anyone should respect.

  * * *

  A week later, Roberta called a meeting of most of the former employees of the Brown Textile Mill. She hadn’t included the married women, because what she had to say to them would do no good. No, she’d gathered the unmarried women and the widows. There were too many to meet in her tiny apartment, so they met in a small park on the bank of the Merrimack River, which was an easy walk from where they all lived and used to work.

  “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” she began. She glanced at Sarah who was standing beside her, giving her courage. Roberta was thankful for her friend every day.

  The other women nodded, looking at her intently as if they were waiting for her to do something to fix their trouble. They were all out of work, and with as little as they’d been paid, there wasn’t much hope for them if they couldn’t find work soon.

  Roberta hadn’t said anything about it being Bob Brown who’d started the fire, so the others were still in the dark about that. She felt responsible for the other women, as she always did. She’d been their manager for three years and she couldn’t stop feeling like she should take care of the others’ problems.

 
; “All of us have been left jobless by the fire in the factory. Mr. Brown has no intention of rebuilding. I, like you, had no idea what to do next. But my sister recently went to Kansas as a mail order bride. A matchmaker in Beckham found her groom for her and she’s happy. I went to see the matchmaker yesterday to find out if she had any other prospective grooms out there.” Roberta held up a small newspaper. “She had just received the first hundred copies of the Grooms’ Gazette that she’s put together when I arrived. I told her about our predicament and she gave me fifty copies. I’ve already picked out my groom and sent him a letter.”

  Gabrielle, one of Roberta’s other roommates called out the question that was on all of their minds. “When will we hear back? How will we make it for that long?”

  “It takes about a month to hear back, but we can figure something out for a month. If someone needs a place to stay, let’s look to each other. If you have enough for rent and food for two weeks, then join forces with a former co-worker who has the same. Share the rent. We can all sleep on floors for a month. We can do what it takes.” Roberta smiled. “There are good men in that newspaper. Men who need wives for so many reasons. I want to make sure every one of you finds a way to survive after the fire. You don’t have to do this, but if you are at all interested, please come get a Grooms’ Gazette from me.”

  “How do we know the men will treat us right?” Poppy called from the back.

  Roberta shrugged. “There’s no way any of us can know that. Elizabeth Miller, the matchmaker I spoke with, ensured me that each of the men is investigated to the best of her ability. She has contacts with more than fifteen other matchmakers throughout the country and the newspaper is comprised of all of their grooms from all over. All have been investigated. They can’t guarantee you’ll be treated right, but we’ll form groups. We’ll write to one another. If anyone is hurt, hook up with one of your friends and take a train to see her.”

  Josephine stood up and made her way to Roberta first. “I’m in. I have nowhere to go and no way to support myself. I’d have to be stupid not to do this.” She took one of the newspapers from Roberta. “Thank you for looking out for all of us.”

  Roberta felt a tear prick her eye. Her idea was working. The other women slowly came to her, each taking a newspaper. Roberta sighed. She hoped her groom in Wisconsin would be a good man. There was no way to tell. She sniffed back a tear. She’d be the bride of a Wisconsin farmer. Maybe she’d even learn to milk a cow.

  Chapter One

  Lawrence, Massachusetts, September 1890

  The words on the newspaper swam before Judith Murphy’s bleary eyes making it impossible to read. When an errant tear escaped and trailed down her face, she brushed it away with the back of her hand. She leaned back on the small park bench and looked across the Merrimack River. The view of gentle water did little to calm her nerves.

  Once again she glanced down at the Grooms’ Gazette. Could she do it? Send off a letter to man in the west to be his mail order bride?

  This was not at all how things were supposed to go. She’d finally saved up enough to let a small apartment on her own. Although she loved living with her friends Alice, Lottie, Beth and Leora, it would be nice to have a place to call just hers. The dream of being self-sufficient, of standing on her own two feet vanished in one day. Thanks to a fire at the factory where she’d worked for only a year, she was out of options. With over a hundred women looking for work there in Lawrence, Massachusetts, more experienced than she was, there was little chance of securing employment.

  “What are we going to do?” Her friend Lottie sunk down beside her and let out a long sigh.

  Women milled about, some crying, others consoling. There was one older woman who gathered four around her and announced they’d start their own sewing business. Although the women nodded in earnest, their eyes shining at being given hope, the air of nervous dread still hung in the air.

  “I’m going to write a letter.” In that moment, Judith’s mind was made up. “I’ve always wanted to travel, to see more of the world. Why not go west? From what I hear, it’s rustic but beautiful. Look here,” she said and pointed to one ad. “Man seeking wife for large Wyoming ranch. Must be willing to cook and clean,” she read out loud. “I can do that.”

  Her other friend, Alice, leaned over and read the ad, her lips moving silently. She smiled up at her. “He sounds nice.”

  “I am sure he is.” She peered down at the name. John Gregory Wilkins. If that wasn’t an all-American name, she didn’t know what was. In the picture, a man stood next to a building, he held his hat in front of his chest, on his face an earnest expression. “Yes, he does seem nice.”

  Judith stood and lifted her chin. “I’m going home to write a letter to Mr. Wilkins. I suggest you chose one and do the same.” After a milling about just a bit longer, not able to let go of the fact they’d probably never see the other women again, they collected Leora and Beth and walked home.

  In her small bedroom she shared with Beth, Judith sat at a little writing table. Although it was not what she’d planned, Judith was an optimist at heart. Becoming a wife to a rancher was not how she’d seen her life heading just that morning, but now, the more she considered it, the idea had merit.

  Also reassuring was the fact Roberta had assured them that each of the men who advertised in the Grooms’ Gazette was well investigated and they had a plan in case of mistreatment.

  She flexed her fingers around the newspaper. The one thing she dreaded was an abusive husband. Although the idea did not worry her much, she’d never allow a man to strike her.

  If this John Wilkins decided to ever raise a hand to her, he’d better not go to sleep anywhere in her vicinity. Judith couldn’t help but giggle at her thoughts. Then she shook her head. Hopefully soon she’d have many reasons to smile; a good life out west with a caring husband and, perhaps, children to care after. She looked out the window and avoiding the view the adjacent building’s wall, she looked up to the small square of sky and let out a sigh. God help her, she had much to be nervous about. But if ever there were a time to put things in His hands, this was it. Trust that things would work out could only come from having faith that there was a reason for everything.

  With a piece of paper before her and pen in her hand poised over the paper, people outside the window caught her attention. A couple walked hurriedly toward what she assumed was home. Something the man said made the woman laugh and they hugged, continuing on their way with arms around the other’s waist. Judith smiled at the sight of such happiness.

  Belief in the possibility of finding the one person who would complete her life rang true. She had to believe it. Pen to paper she began to write.

  Dear Mr. Wilkins…

  * * *

  A month later, Alice folded her cotton work blouses and wool skirts and placed them into her satchel. Tomorrow she would board a train bound for Rhode Island and a new husband.

  “A letter from Lottie!” Judith yelled from the first floor.

  Alice dropped the clothing and bolted from the tiny bedroom she shared with Beth then ran down the narrow staircase. Beth and Leora were already seated in the kitchen so Alice joined them as Judith broke the seal.

  Dear Leora, Beth, Alice, and Judith,

  Sam and I have only one day left before we reach Clear Creek. Our journey has been quite eventful. We stopped over in Chicago, as Sam said we would, and took in some sights, including that of our former employer, Bob Brown! I cannot begin to describe my shock when I saw him in the very hotel we were staying! Unfortunately, my new husband forbade me to pursue any sort of contact, so you can imagine my disappointment. Do not despair, Sam was kind enough to offer to help me discover what happened the day of the fire, but he won’t let me pursue it by myself any longer. I’ll send you what information he is able to glean.

  In the meantime, I hope you are all doing well. Leora, I’m sure you are preparing to leave for California, as are you, Alice and Judith. I hope you find much happin
ess with your new husbands. And Beth, my guess is that, by now, you’ve heard back from your gentleman. I can’t wait to hear about him.

  All my love,

  Lottie

  “She’s sounds as if she’s doing well,” Judith remarked, grinning.

  Leora knitted her brow. “But she just can’t let go of the fact that Mr. Brown might’ve burned down his own factory.”

  Alice stood and retrieved the coffeepot from the stove then refilled everyone’s half-empty cups. “She should just let it be.”

  “At least her new husband has stepped in,” Beth added, a twinkle in her eye. “He seems to have figured her out already.”

  Beth wondered if she and her future husband would be as suited.

  Just two weeks after Lottie’s letter arrived, it was Judith’s turn to leave and head to Wyoming. She allowed a railroad worker to assist her to climb aboard the train. Her stomach had been flipping since she’d gotten up that morning and now lurched so much Judith feared she’d throw up.

  Thankfully, she found a seat rather quickly next to an older woman embroidering. Other than an ever-present pinched brow, the woman ignored Judith as she settled and placed a carpetbag on the empty floor space next to her feet.

  Moments later, male voices called out “All Aboard!” and within minutes, the train rolled forward. Judith closed her eyes and prayed silently for an uneventful journey. She’d be aboard the train for at least eight days, which meant long hours of nothing to do but read or sew as her traveling companion already did. Perhaps she’d begin some sort of hobby. She’d brought several books along with some stitching items but, at the moment, Judith was much too anxious to concentrate on anything more than looking out the window.