A Marshal for Christmas Read online

  A Marshal for Christmas

  Spinster Mail-Order Brides, Book 1

  P. Creeden

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Love Western Romance?

  An Agent for Josie

  An Agent for Opal

  A Bride for James

  A Bride for Henry

  A Pony for Christmas

  Brokken Rising

  Brokken Pursuit

  A Marshal for Christmas

  December 1880

  When Lottie Reiner lost her father in the war, her mother fell to pieces. At the young age of eleven, Lottie began caring for her catatonic mother. But when both her mother and grandfather pass away months apart, Lottie becomes nothing but a burden to her family. Her grandmother pushes Lottie to get married before it’s too late. But Lottie is a twenty-seven-year-old spinster with no experience raising children. Isn’t it already too late?

  Deputy US Marshal Archer King comes from a family of law keepers. His father was a US Marshal, and his mother worked as a Pinkerton Agent with Kate Warne. When his only sister passed on in childbirth, his brother-in-law swore he could care for the children on his own. And Archer was to check in on them, but in almost two years, he’s neglected that duty to his sister. When the father, Sam Hodge, goes missing, he finds out exactly what kind of dire situation the children have been subject to.

  After being turned out of her home, Lottie heads to Durant, Oklahoma, where Sam Hodge and his two children live, in the hopes of becoming a new wife and mother. Only the mail-order situation does not turn out the way Lottie had hoped, and many of the things that Sam had told her in his letters turn out to be lies. The only thing true is the children, and Lottie is fast becoming attached to them. But what will happen when Sam is found? Will she have the opportunity to get a home and a family before Christmas?

  A Marshal for Christmas © 2019 P. Creeden

  Cover by Virginia McKevitt

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Chapter 1

  December 1880

  Lottie

  “Enough pushing the food around on your plate,” Lottie’s grandmother said with a frown. “No man wants a woman who has no meat on her bones.”

  With a sigh, Lottie purposefully took a bite of her roast and shoved it in her mouth. Then she chewed slowly, the dry roast pulling all the moisture out of her cheeks. She was a horrible cook. How was she possibly going to get married and raise children when she couldn’t even get a roast correct? What man in his right mind would marry a twenty-seven-year-old spinster like she was? There wasn’t even a guarantee that she was going to be able to have children of her own at this age. Her mother and her grandmother had had their children when they were just shy of twenty.

  “Quit moping. We’ll get this meal right soon enough, and you’ll learn how to make a few more good dishes while you’re at it. You’ve spent too much time with your nose in a book and reading at your mother’s side.” Her grandmother side-eyed her and then added, under her breath, “A fat lot of good that did any of us.”

  As much as Lottie wanted to argue, her grandmother was right. Her mother had never responded to her reading aloud but remained in a catatonic state ever since they got the news about her father’s passing in the war. At only eleven years old, Lottie had done what she could on her own, taking care of both her mother and her younger brother, Mitchell. But after six days, Mitchell told his teacher what had been going on at home when he’d gone to school wearing the same dirty clothes for days and without a lunch. All of them had lost weight in that short amount of time. Now her mother had succumbed to an illness, contracted dropsy, and passed away. Her brother had gotten married and had three children of his own.

  And with their mother’s passing, Mitchell had asked their grandmother to come live with them at their home in Atlanta and sell the old property in the foothills of North Georgia. Lottie had been offered to come, too, but she could see it in her brother’s eyes. He didn’t really want her. He’d never really forgiven her for doing such a poor job of taking care of him when they were younger. That was when Grandmother had started bringing in advertisements for mail-order brides in the newspaper.

  Lottie had cried over the advertisements at first, learning she was much older than most of the men who’d even placed ads. Why would anyone be interested in a spinster like her? Especially one who couldn’t cook and didn’t know how to take care of children?

  Then finally, her grandmother had answered an ad in her name. The gentleman’s name was Sam Hodge and was from Oklahoma. Even though Sam had two young children, his wife had passed away in childbirth. It was okay with him if they didn’t have more children of their own. And she would have the help of Sam’s sister in taking care of his children. Sam also didn’t seem to mind Lottie’s advanced age and the fact that she was a spinster. They wrote back and forth two more times through the month of November, and finally, after Thanksgiving, Sam had asked her to make the trip out west to Durant and sent money for the train.

  Now, Lottie was a bundle of nerves. “I should have learned how to cook better all along,” she said when she’d finally swallowed down the bite of roast she’d had in her mouth for what felt like five minutes.

  Her grandmother shook her head. “I’d tried to tell you, but you often rebelled against me.”

  Lottie frowned. She didn’t remember her grandmother ever even offering to teach her to cook, much less rebelling against her. In fact, her grandmother had been impatient with her from the beginning and kept her from touching anything, in case she might break it or ruin it. A slow exhalation left Lottie’s lips. No matter. She’d do her best to learn what she could. Maybe her new husband’s sister would be willing to teach her some things.

  She had less than a week to get ready for the long train ride out to Oklahoma. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought. If there was nothing else, she would enjoy the traveling. She’d hardly done more than stay home and take care of her mother or go to church in over a decade.

  “I’ve arranged for you to take care of the Hamilton twins tomorrow morning. It will be good practice for you to change a few diapers and deal with crying babes,” her grandmother said, narrowing her eyes at Lottie over a glass of white wine. “Try your best not to kill one of the children, would you?”

  Tears stung the backs of Lottie’s eyes. No one had faith in her. “I may not have any diapers to change in Oklahoma, Grandmother. Sam’s daughter is already almost two.”

  “There are two-year-old babes who still we
ar diapers. Though I hope for their sake she uses a pot now, since you’re liable to stab her with one of those safety pins and let her bleed to death.” She waved a hand in the air, dismissing Lottie from the table.

  Lottie stood, grabbing her plate and her grandmother’s things before heading to the kitchen. It wasn’t until her back was turned to her grandmother that she allowed the first tear to fall.

  Archer

  There was nothing like watching the sunset between a horse’s ears from the saddle after a long day of riding when home was less than a few miles away. Archer pulled his collar up around his neck and tugged his jacket for more warmth before he rode down the hill and let out a great sigh. Though a bit of hunger gnawed at his stomach, and his lower back was a bit sore from the ride, he felt content. There wasn’t much that was better in life than seeing justice served and then going home to a good meal.

  Well, maybe there was one thing better. If someone was at home to greet him with that meal already cooked, that would be a hard-earned bonus. Archer didn’t consider himself a lonely man. Just an average US Deputy Marshal who enjoyed the freedom of his job allowing him to travel through his territory and capture bad guys. He wasn’t like his brother, Aaron, who was voted in as sheriff of his small town in Texas, right over the border. A sheriff had to remain in his town to keep peace, where as a marshal, Archer enjoyed much greater freedom.

  Even as the light waned, red dust clouds filled the air from the few other horses and carts that went up and down the main street of the small town of Durant, mixing with the flurries that had started to fall. Archer leaned over the front of his saddle to relieve the pain in his lower back by stretching. Their town was in the midst of Choctaw territory, a stop along the Katy line of train. Archer often had to deal with railroad issues and territory issues with the natives. It felt good that this last trip was just taking a fugitive from McAlester to the Texas boarder where he was picked up by the Deputy Marshal from that district.

  As he passed by the inn, he considered stopping inside to get something in the dining room but decided against it. He had a bit of salted ham hock at home and dried lentils. Hopefully enough flour to make a hoecake with it. His stomach growled at the thought. Then he turned toward home and almost ran into three men crossing the street.

  “Whoa there,” he said as he pulled up his black mare, Sable. Then he frowned toward the three men who seemed too drunk to be out in the street. “Where are you three headed?”

  “Who are you to be asking?” one of the three men said with his hands on his hips. The other two nodded, echoing the sentiment.

  Archer lifted a brow. “Is that you, Sam?”

  One of the echoing men blinked hard up at Archer and straightened his spine. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was you, Archer. Sorry to be in your way.” Then Sam proceeded to elbow his friends and tell them, “He’s the Deputy Marshal.”

  Their wide eyes reflected the last bit of sunlight left in the day. Archer frowned to himself. “What are you doing out here, Sam? What about your young ones?”

  Sam huffed, his brow furrowing. “My sister’s got their care. I ain’t worried about them, so you got no cause to be.”

  Tension pulled at Archer’s jaw as he watched his brother-in-law stride away, holding a brown jug filled with some kind of alcoholic spirits. As Archer was raised to be a lawman, he’d learned to eschew all forms of liquor. A true lawman was always on duty. And it had been his duty to check in on his sister’s children. He’d neglected that duty. He watched his brother-in-law head into the saloon across the street. Part of him was tempted to drag the man out of the building and back home to his children. But would that really be the right thing to do? Maybe they were better off with an aunt than they would be with a father who’d been in his cups. Archer frowned to himself and made a promise to check on those children in the morning. As he blinked snowflakes from his eyes, he recounted how long it had been. Would the young one really be almost two years old? Her birthday was Christmas, and though it felt like not that long ago that his sister had passed in birthing, it had almost been two full years.

  And Archer hadn’t seen Sam or been in to check on the children since the spring after his sister died. He’d been derelict in his duty as a brother. Both Aaron and Abram had families and lived in a different territory. He lived in the same town as his sister’s children and hadn’t gone to see them. He vowed to himself to do better about that, starting tomorrow. For now, he’d head home and see to making himself something to eat.

  Chapter 2

  Lottie

  Caring for the Hamilton twins was not as torturous as Grandmother had let Lottie believe. But maybe it had been because Mrs. Amelia Hamilton had never actually left. The twins were not as fussy as she imagined, and Amelia taught Lottie how to change diapers and clean the napkins after use. It was a pleasant learning experience overall, and together, the two of them had a fine afternoon of tea and visiting one another, even though Amelia was six years younger than Lottie, herself. Young mothers apparently spent a great deal of time alone or with their own mothers, and Amelia’s mother had left her alone to take care of the children and head back to Atlanta where her parents lived only a week before. Amelia appreciated Lottie’s company.

  Lottie left the Hamilton house in high spirits and started the walk home. Maybe she wouldn’t be so horrible at taking care of children. At least the two children Mr. Hodge had were both a bit older than the Hamilton twins, and could likely help her in taking care of them. Hope rose in her chest. Maybe she could do this. She’d been putting off leaving to go out west, into the unknown, for as long as she could. Now her departure was only four days away. Her stomach twisted at the thought. The train ride would take three days according to the man at the train station’s estimate. Lottie swallowed hard, tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

  Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could talk her grandmother and brother into letting her stay with them for a while until she found a job as a nanny or a seamstress or some such here in Georgia.

  It was just so far. Farther than Lottie had ever gone. Farther from her family than she’d ever imagined going. Into territory riddled with natives who were not always known to be friendly. Into vows with a stranger. She blew out a slow breath and fanned herself in the cool December air. She couldn’t cry. Her grandmother hated when she cried. She was much too old for tears, and Grandmother always said she needed to have more backbone. She stood on the side of the street on the way back to her grandmother’s house and closed her eyes. Pine needles had fallen and cushioned her steps. No one was coming either direction on the roadway. No one was likely to. There was always more foot traffic on this road than there were horses. Most people in their small Georgia town didn’t own a horse. The air smelled of rain, and the sky had been overcast, but she didn’t think the weather was imminent. After letting out a few more slow breaths, she opened her eyes and continued her walking. She just needed to convince everyone that it was better for her to stay. She had to believe she could do that much.

  Once she neared her grandmother’s house, she found her brother’s cart and horse sitting outside. She didn’t remember Grandmother saying he was coming for a visit. But when she drew closer, she found her brother loading a steamer trunk into the back of his cart. Frowning, she stepped up toward them. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Her brother’s gaze slipped over her. His lips thinned, and his eyes narrowed. “Grandmother’s coming to Atlanta with me, today.”

  Lottie’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. “But you weren’t coming to get her until Sunday, after I leave by train Saturday.”

  He shook his head slowly, the disdain evident in his features. “Enough, Lottie. We’ve all had enough. Stop lollygagging and get on your train already. Grandmother’s not in the best of health. She doesn’t have the time and inclination to be taking care of you. I don’t see why you can’t just leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Lottie choked. Her heart began racin
g in her chest and sweat formed on her upper lip. She felt as though she were having an attack of the vapors. Her knees weakened.

  “Straighten up!” Grandmother hissed at her. “Enough of that boorish posture. I’ve tried and tried to teach you to be a better lady, but you always rebelled.”

  Lottie shook her head, but not one word would make it past her lips.

  Mitchell helped Grandmother into the cart, and Lottie just found herself frozen in place, unable to say a word to stop it. Then her brother turned to her. “Leave tomorrow. Leave Saturday. Makes no difference to me. But by Monday, you’d best be out of this house. We need to get it cleaned and ready for buyers. You’ve lived an idle life for much too long, Lottie. It’s time to move.”

  And with that, he mounted the carriage and drove his horse away. Lottie remained standing there as her vision blurred. Tears finally slipped down her cheeks. They’d left her alone and wanted her out. She’d felt their pushing for years. She’d felt their lack of love for longer. Grandfather had always been the one to defend her before, but once he’d passed, no one was on her side anymore. She had no choice. She’d send a telegram to Sam Hodge tomorrow and leave on the first train out. The first, fat drops of rain pelted her and woke her out of her stupor long after the cart had left her ability to see it. She huddled and headed inside to the cold house only to find that no one had even made a fire in the hearth.