Mail Order Colette Read online

  Mail Order Colette

  P. Creeden

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Love Western Romance?

  A Marshal for Christmas

  An Agent for Josie

  An Agent for Opal

  A Bride for James

  A Bride for Henry

  Mail Order Colette © 2020 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

  September 1885

  Colette Tolliver knew the moment that her monthly didn’t come up that she was expecting. Her monthly came like clockwork, every twenty-eight days, without fail from the time she was thirteen years old. And in the past nine years, nothing had changed—until the day before yesterday. She’d waited an extra day, afraid to allow herself to get excited prematurely. This was what she’d been awaiting for three years. It was getting to the point she wasn’t sure she was able to conceive. And now she would be able to tell John that they were expecting, and excitement filled her. She held her stomach as she stepped out onto the screen porch of their house and peered off at the beach beyond. The noise and hustle bustle of the boardwalk at Atlantic city wasn’t far off, and the sun stretched fingers of pink and purple across the sky behind her. The waves sparkled in the light.

  Behind their house, the white sand beach remained quiet and there was a sole couple who strolled along the shore from the south. The private beaches behind them were relatively untouched compared to the ones closer to the boardwalk where black bathing suits, wide towels, and fat umbrellas covered the area so well that almost none of the white sand was visible there. It was the last warm weekend they’d likely have for a while, but as the wind picked up, she pulled her shawl off of the back of a nearby chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her core trembled with excitement. John would be down at the boardwalk, working one of the rides on the midway that was powered by electricity. Though much of the boardwalk had electricity, theirs was one of the houses that hadn’t yet had wires run to them. In some ways, Colette was glad for it, since the wires and poles were unsightly, in her opinion.

  The smells of the roast and potatoes she had cooking wafted out from the kitchen, intermingling with the sea-driven salty air. It wouldn’t be long now before her secret would be out. She’d waited a full day all by herself, and now she couldn’t wait to tell her husband. Slowly, she settled into one of the chairs on the porch and decided to stay until the sun set. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke, her teeth chattering from being chilled to the bone. The electric lights from the boardwalk cast a surreal glow to her left. Then a burning smell struck her. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  “Oh no!” she cried as she leapt to her feet and rushed into the kitchen.

  On the stove, her pot roast continued to simmer under the lid where wisps of smoke rose. She pulled the lid off, and it belched a cloud of acrid smoke up that hit her eyes and made them water. But the tears that fell weren’t just from the smoke in her eyes. She grabbed hold of a towel and pulled the pot off the burner, a sob rising in her throat. Colette had wanted everything to be perfect when she told John about their blessing. Now she needed to run to the windows and make sure they were all up so as to get rid of the burning smell. Her heart sank as her stomach twisted. She needed to make something else for dinner. Thinking fast, she rushed to the icebox and took out the crabs that their neighbor Gillian had given her. All she needed to do was boil some water and cook the crabs. In fifteen minutes, dinner would be ready. She was planning on using the crabs tomorrow since she’d already had the beef for the roast from the butcher, but this would work. Everything would work out, she convinced herself.

  A knock at the door nearly made her drop the box of crabs she was holding. Suddenly she realized that she’d been standing in darkness besides the light of the flame on the stove. She lit a gas lamp in the kitchen and then used a lamplighter to light the one in the hallway and foyer before she opened the door to the house, unsure of why John would need to knock instead of just coming in the house. But when she opened the door and light passed over the two men standing there, she froze, her skin prickling across her shoulders. Blinking up at them, she asked, “Hello, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

  “Mrs. Tolliver?” the gentleman at the front said, pulling his hat off and holding it in his hands. It was then that she realized that he wore a star on his chest.

  “Sheriff?” she asked, a moment of recognition flashing at the sight of his features.

  The man nodded, his lips drawing thin. “I’m sorry to inform you that there’s been an accident on the boardwalk.”

  Though her heart sank to her stomach, and her throat tightened. Confused, she blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Your husband, John Tolliver, was involved in the accident. There was a child on the ride who got stuck at a high part. Your husband climbed up to save the child, but ended up falling, himself. He... he broke his neck. He didn’t make it.” The sheriff’s face twisted with what looked like grief and horror.

  Colette’s legs gave out as what the sheriff had said hit her. He grabbed hold of one of her arms to steady her, but one of the other men cleared his throat and rushed forward. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Jason, John’s brother, held her to him. “That’s enough, officers. I’ll take it from here.”

  She shook her head, but a sob had lodged itself firmly in her throat so she wasn’t able to ask him what he meant. She wanted to scream and cry and demand that the sheriff take the words back. To say it wasn’t true. To tell her that it was all a joke in poor taste. Her eyes met Jason’s narrowed ones. He was prone to cruel jokes. Perhaps he was behind it all. His hand ran down her back in a way that was a bit too comfortable for her liking. She pushed away from him, anger rising up. That had to be it. This was all a bad joke. “Jason. Are you behind this? Did you ask the sheriff to come down here and tell me that horrible story?”

  His jaw flexed as he tightened it, and he leveled a glare at her. “You see. This is exactly why I asked the sheriff to come and tell you. I told him that you wouldn’t believe it if it came from me.”

  “This would be just like you. It’s cruel. Come out with the truth.” Every part of her body trembled. Anger flooded her, but it felt welcome compared to what she dreaded might be true. Her vision blurred with tears.

  Then hands grabbed her by the upper arms, and fingers dug in.

  She blinked he
r tears away and cried out. “Ow! What are you doing?”

  Jason’s hair suddenly looked disheveled and the malice in his eyes became clear. “Why would I lie to you about this? What kind of sick, twisted man do you take me for?”

  She wanted to answer him and tell him that she knew exactly how sick and twisted he was. That if he hadn’t cried wolf so many times while she knew him that maybe she’d be able to take it at face value, but his fingers continued to burrow into her flesh. Instead, she cried out again. “Stop! You’re hurting me.”

  He narrowed his eyes more and then shook her. “It’s nothing less than you deserve. You evil temptress.”

  Then he finally released her but not without shoving her back so that she struck the wall with her body and head. Stars flashed in her vision as it narrowed. The back of her head stung and the muscles in her neck felt wretched. Her legs gave way and she collapsed into a heap, her back still against the wall.

  “You can’t even cook. I smell whatever it is you burnt in the kitchen. This house is always a mess. What do you do all day? You’re worthless and I don’t even understand why John married you in the first place except that you’re pretty.” His lip pulled up in a sneer as he continued to glare down at her. “You’re probably not even sad that he’s gone. That’s what this act is all about, isn’t it? What is your plan? Are you trying to seduce me?”

  More tears spilled over her cheeks, as she blinked up at him, the shock of what he last said hitting her like a bucket of cold water. “Seduce you?” her words came out in a hoarse whisper.

  His sneer grew as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way that you’ve looked at me all this time? Even on your wedding day, I saw you looking toward me while you were saying your vows.”

  She blinked several times, her heart seizing in her chest. Jason was insane, that was the only explanation. Right now, she wanted to get away from him as fast as she could. She wanted him out of her house. She shook her head. “I did no such thing.”

  “Playing hard to get now?” he asked as he reached for her cheek.

  She flinched away from him, and at his face twisted at her rejection. Then then hand that was going to touch her cheek gently fell across it with a slap that made her ears ring and the stars reappear again. Then he stepped back away from her.

  “You don’t have many options now, Colette. You can’t afford to keep this house without John. You have no other family here in New Jersey. What are you going to do if you keep trying to pretend you have no feelings for me? Just get past them. We’ll bury my brother this week, and then next we’ll start courting. It’s biblical that a man takes his brother’s wife when he dies. No one will bat an eye at it. And next month, we’ll wed. You won’t have to worry about any of those things.” Jason nodded to himself, his face softening into a smile at his own daydream.

  But each sentence that he spoke was punctuated with horror in Colette’s mind as her stomach twisted further. She thought she might be sick all over her brother-in-law’s shoes. Though she wanted to shake her head, all of her muscles were frozen stiff where they were. Maybe it was a good thing. As she leaned against the hardwood floor with her hands, she just began staring at it as she caught her breath. She’d been holding her breath through his monologue.

  “All right then. We shall implement it tomorrow. Just, try to be the picture of a grieving widow tomorrow at the funeral home, if you please?” he said as his feet began to shuffle back toward the door.

  Each step he took made her relief come in, though her body remained tense until the door finally shut behind him, then she collapsed to the floor and the sobs escaped. Her cheek slipped against the glaze on the floor as she cried until nearly an hour later, she finally did get sick and then she lifted herself from the floor to clean it up.

  Chapter 2

  “I don’t see why you don’t just get on him and ride through whatever bucks he’s got.” Maxwell’s brother, Thomas, said from over his shoulder.

  Maxwell Clayton ignored the criticism and tightened the cinch on his saddle just so that the horse would tolerate it. He didn’t want to tighten it too much at once as that was what made horses cinch-sour to begin with. He was taking it slow with the paint mustang colt that he’d kept from going to auction after the last roundup. The chestnut and white colt had recently been rejected by his herd and so was starving for attention by the time he’d been captured. Over the past two months, Maxwell had worked to gentle the colt so that he could approach the animal at times with or without food and put a halter on him. He’d gotten the colt to stand still while being groomed and tacked, and he’d built a rapport with the horse. The last thing he wanted to do was betray the trust he’d worked so hard to build.

  “Is it truly worth it to do things so slow?” Thomas asked again, this time from right next to him.

  The sun shone directly over Thomas’s profile, so that Maxwell had to squint in order to eye him. He shook his head. “Can you force a flower to bloom just because you don’t want to wait the few more days extra that it takes for it to bloom on its own.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he took hold of the colt’s halter and headed for the corral.

  Thomas followed. “I don’t see the point in that question. That’s flowers. We’re talking about horses here. It’s two different things, and you’re not a gardener.”

  With a sigh, Maxwell turned around and faced his brother again. At fifteen, his brother felt he already knew everything he needed to know. The teen wanted all the freedoms of being an adult without knowing the responsibilities that each freedom came with. Maxwell rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The point is that in life, things can’t be forced without being ruined. It’s true with most things—flowers, horses, even love.”

  “Love?” Thomas’s face scrunched up. “Now you’re really losing me.

  Shaking his head, Maxwell returned his attention to the gelding. After leading him into the corral, he closed the gate behind him. His younger brother climbed up on the fence next to the gate and sat on the top rail. After tightening the cinch just a bit more and tying the strap, Maxwell unhooked the gelding’s halter and clucked at him. Immediately the chestnut paint began to trot around the outer edge of the circular corral, the stirrups of the saddle banging against his sides. Good. They didn’t seem to bother the colt this time. It was only his fourth time wearing the saddle on his back, and he was already getting to accept the weight of the tack, the unpleasant tightness of the cinch, and the way the saddle’s stirrups might bang against his side. These were all excellent steps toward accepting a rider without much complaint.

  “And... Walk...” Maxwell said several times in a low, slow and deep tone. He drew out each word so that the horse could hear him and stepped forward to make sure that he was just in front of the horse’s shoulder. He’d learned the technique from an old half-injun cowboy whose horses were so tame after a while that they didn’t even need a bridle on for them to be ridden. They listened to the rider’s legs, weight, and voice cues.

  The horse’s ears flicked back and forth a few times as he tried to interpret what Maxwell had said and then the trot slowed a bit. After a couple more steps, the colt was walking. When the colt attempted to stop, Maxwell got behind its shoulder and clucked a bit. In response, the colt jumped forward and back into a trot. Maxwell used his soothing voice and body language to settle the horse back into the walk once more. This time, the colt continued to move forward at the slow pace Maxwell wanted. After a lap around at the walk, Maxwell urged the horse back to the trot once more.

  “I don’t see the point in all this. Can’t you just teach him these things once you’re on him?” Thomas called out.

  A bit of anger sparked in Maxwell’s chest. “Why don’t you go find your Ma and bother her?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell saw Thomas cross his arms over his chest, but at least the boy hadn’t said a word. Even though the two of them were brothers by every
right, they weren’t by blood. Maxwell’s mother had passed on when he was eight years old. For a long while, his father raised him alone with the help of his grandmother. Then, when Maxwell was thirteen, his father married a widow from town who was already heavy with child. His Pa had told him it was the right thing to do. The younger woman had always been a good stepmother to Maxwell, even though she wasn’t old enough to be his true mother. When his father had passed on a year ago, Maxwell found Thomas spending more and more time with him and following him around. He didn’t mind so much, since it had been a slow summer for criminal activity except on Friday and Saturday nights when the miners would spend all their money at the saloon and then fight or carouse too much after. It had given him time to fix things around the farm for his stepmother and work with the colt.

  After putting the colt through his paces in both directions, Maxwell wiped the sweat from his brow and snapped the lead shank on the horse’s halter. He patted the horse’s sweaty neck as it heaved from the good workout he’d had. It was necessary to push the horse beyond what it felt its limits were in order for him to accept more work later. Provided that the horse trusted Maxwell to determine its limits, they would develop a perfect partnership.

  Thomas began climbed down from the fence and strode over. Patting the colt on the forehead, he asked, “Don’t you think you should at least give the horse a name?”

  Maxwell shrugged. “I plan to. It’s just that the right name hasn’t come to me yet.”

  With a nod, Thomas skipped ahead to open the gate for the two of them. His sudden movement spooked the horse who stepped back several steps and threw his head up in fear. Maxwell let his lead rope go slack as he stepped with the horse, so it didn’t feel restricted. “Shh. Easy now, boy. It’s okay.”