Golden State Brides Read online

  A Bride Opens Shop in El Dorado, California © 2012 by Keli Gwyn

  A Bride Sews with Love in Needles, California © 2012 by Erica Vetsch

  Print ISBN 978-1-62416-236-7

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62416-465-1

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62416-464-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  A Bride Opens Shop in El Dorado, California

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  A Bride Sews with Love in Needles, California

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A Bride

  Opens Shop

  in El Dorado,

  California

  by Keli Gwyn

  Dedication

  To my awesome husband, Carl Gwyn

  I spend countless hours time-warped to the 1800s,

  but when I return to reality, there you are—

  loving me, supporting me, and encouraging me.

  Thank you for being my best friend,

  my plotting partner, and president of my fan club.

  I admire you, respect you,

  and love you with all my heart.

  In my book, you’re a hero,

  and I’m ever so grateful you’re mine!

  Chapter 1

  April 1870

  The Sierra Foothills of California

  The stagecoach lurched to a stop, throwing Elenora and Matilda Watkins against a damask-covered sidewall.

  Elenora clutched her nine-year-old daughter to her side. “Are you all right, Tildy?”

  “Oh Mama. You don’t have to be so skittery.” Tildy shrugged out of the protective embrace, scooted across the bench seat, and shoved the leather window shade aside. “I want to see what’s going on.” She peeked out, whirled around with wide eyes and an enormous grin, and let the dust shield fall with a thwap. “It’s an outlaw, and he’s pointing a gun at the driver.”

  Where did her daughter get those wild notions of hers? Elenora shot Tildy a reassuring smile and leaned over the center jump seat to have a look. “Lord, help us.”

  A shudder ripped through her. The horrid man atop the big black horse was, in fact, aiming a gun at the coachman, but he was aiming a look of sheer evil at her. One of his eyes bored into her while the other seemed to roam. His sneer made her skin crawl.

  How could this be happening? They’d ridden all the way from Omaha on that snorting beast of a train and made the line changes in Ogden and Sacramento City without incident. Why did something have to go wrong on the final five miles between Shingle Springs and El Dorado?

  The outlaw’s deep voice boomed. “Hand it over.”

  “I tells ya. I ain’t carryin’ no gold.” The driver spat a stream of tobacco juice in the dirt. “If I was I’d have someone ridin’ shotgun, wouldn’t I?”

  “If you’re haulin’ any valuables, I’ll find ’em. Get down here, and show me what’s inside, and then we’ll take a look in the boot.”

  Elenora bristled. Under no circumstances would that scoundrel harm her daughter. He’d have to kill her first. She put Tildy on her right, positioned herself so she could see the men, and tipped her hat to block their view of her.

  Resting a hand on her midsection, her thoughts flew to the twenty-five hundred dollars hidden beneath her corset. What would she do if the money were taken? She needed it to secure the partnership and provide for Tildy.

  “Mama?” For once in her life Tildy had the presence of mind to whisper. “Do you think he’ll shoot us?”

  Elenora drew a fortifying breath. She must be strong for Tildy’s sake, even though her mouth was as dry as the dust caking the stagecoach walls. “Don’t you fret. We’ll say a little prayer.” She clasped Tildy’s slender hands in hers. “Almighty God, watch over us, I beseech Thee. Our lives are in Thy hands. Amen.” Hopefully she’d sounded convincing. The Lord hadn’t seemed to pay her any mind lately.

  If only she’d gathered the gumption to break free of Pa’s controlling ways sooner, she’d have a gun and know how to use it. But instead of being able to protect herself and Tildy from this menace, they were at his mercy. Part of her longed to leap from the coach and give the overgrown cornstalk of a man with his flowing blond hair a piece of her mind, but that would be foolhardy—and she was no fool.

  Since the seasoned driver had challenged the younger man, he must have a plan, one involving that rifle she’d seen him stow under his seat or the pistol slung at his side.

  If only there were something she could do to help. All she could think of was flirting with the outlaw in order to distract him, a thought so loathsome it soured her stomach. But if that would keep Tildy from harm’s way, she’d do her best. Jake had made it clear he found her unappealing, but nothing about her had ever pleased her late husband. Surely a man depraved enough to threaten a woman and child at gunpoint wouldn’t be as particular.

  Elenora pinched her cheeks to add color to them and grasped the handle of the tiny door.

  “Mama?” Tildy spoke in hushed tones, but her words spilled out in a torrent. “Are you gonna take on an outlaw?”

  She should have known Tildy would embrace the exciting elements of their dilemma. “I’ll do what I can to help the driver. I need you to stay inside. And don’t make a sound.”

  “I can watch, can’t I?”

  “If you’ll keep yourself out of sight.” Please, let Tildy mind me.

  Elenora flung open the door. She braced herself with a hand on one side of the opening, lifted her skirt enough to show her ankle the way she’d seen saloon girls back East do, and hooked her boot heel over the small stirrup-like step mounted beneath the door. Although every fiber of her being protested at the prospect of behaving in such wanton
fashion, she produced the most alluring smile she could. “Don’t tell me a big, strong man like you is interested in a trunk full of frocks and bonnets, which is all you’ll find back there.”

  The vile man trained his good eye on her. “Well, now. This is getting more interesting by the minute.” He slid from his saddle, pulled a cigar from his coat pocket, and bit off the end, which he sent flying with a noisy puff. “Come on out, missy, and let me have a good look at you.”

  If she could keep his attention on her, the coachman would be better able to locate his rifle and get into position. From his post up on the seat, he ought to have a clear shot.

  Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, Elenora addressed the leering man in front of her with a sickeningly sweet tone like the ones she’d heard silk-clad strumpets use when potential customers walked by. “It’s such a long way down. Won’t you be a gentleman and help a lady out?”

  The words tasted bitter, but the possibility of him touching her was far worse. Only for Tildy would she attempt such a ploy.

  Elenora held out her gloved hand and batted her eyes. Her stomach lurched. Losing her meal wasn’t an option. All she needed was to distract him for a few more seconds and give the driver time to—

  Shots rang in the distance, and horses’ hooves pounded the ground. “Aaaiieeee!”

  The shriek sent shivers racing along the length of her spine. Did the awful man have accomplices?

  He wheeled around. “What the—” He sounded as surprised as she.

  His huge horse reared with an angry snort, and Elenora started. The outlaw threw his cigar in the dirt, shoved his gun in his holster, snarled something at the frightened animal, and mounted it in one fluid motion. And then, in a flash of black, the horrid man fled.

  “Yee-haw!” Another ear-piercing scream heralded the approach of two more riders with dirty bandanas over their mouths and dusty cowboy hats jerked low, waving guns in the air.

  Had things just gone from gray to black? Distracting one man had been risky, but taking on two was more than she could handle. Since they were bouncing on the backs of their horses and the coach was stopped, the driver would have the advantage. Tildy’s life and hers were in his hands now.

  She ducked inside the coach, pulled the door closed, and dropped onto the seat beside Tildy, who craned her neck to see what was going on outside.

  “What’s happening, Mama?”

  “We’ll be fine, sweetheart. There are more men coming, but I’m sure they don’t mean us any harm.” Thankfully, years of schooling her emotions while she worked alongside Pa enabled her to keep her voice level. No sense alarming Tildy. Not that she seemed worried. Her fascination with hair-raising adventures knew no bounds. She sat in her rumpled green dress with her bonnet hanging by its strings and her bright blue eyes sparkling.

  Laughter rang out as the two riders reined in their mounts beside the coach. “We sure showed him, didn’t we, Timmy?” one of them shouted. “Had him high-tailin’ like cats afire.”

  The stage shifted as the driver climbed from his perch. “What are you two scalawags up to? You done run off trouble this time, but I don’t take kindly to you terrorizing my passengers ever’ other week or so.”

  Tildy poked her head through the window.

  “Matilda Anne, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Watching.”

  Her daughter had no fear, which was more than Elenora could say for herself. Rude customers she could handle, but men brandishing firearms were another matter. She’d never forget the sight of the robber Pa had shot lying motionless with blood pooling around him on the shop floor. “Get back inside. We can see well enough from here.”

  Tildy plunked herself on the leather seat, folded her arms, and gave a quick nod. “We’re safe now. These are the good guys.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.”

  The driver waved the back of a hand at the mounted men. “You two scoot on home before I report your antics to Sheriff Henderson.” Since he didn’t sound the least bit concerned, perhaps Tildy was right.

  With a whoop, the rowdies took off. Elenora released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  The driver yanked open the door, pulled off his hat, and wiped a shirtsleeve across his weathered forehead. The musty scents of tobacco and sweat filled the coach. “Sorry about the ruckus, ma’am. That gunman”—he cast a glance in the direction the black horse had gone—“could’ve ruined our day. Sure am glad you and the young’un didn’t make a fuss.”

  Tildy let loose with a most unladylike snort of disgust. She perched on the edge of the seat, twirling a dark brown braid around her finger. “I’m not a young’un. I’m going on ten, and I know all about outlaws. I read the wanted posters at the sheriff’s office.” She hunched over and lowered her voice. “Makes Mama scowl something fierce when she catches me.”

  “Ya don’t say. You must be a smart young lady then.”

  “That robber.” Tildy jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Have you seen his face on a poster?”

  The burly man buried a hand in his mop of salt-and-pepper hair and scratched his scalp. “Can’t say as I have, little miss. Must not be from around here.”

  “Do you think he would have killed us if those other men hadn’t come up shooting and hollering?”

  Elenora rubbed Tildy’s back. “I think you’ve said enough, dear. We don’t want to keep this man from his duty. Besides, Mr. Rutledge is expecting us.”

  The driver shook his head, and his flowing beard swayed. “Got yourself a gabby one, don’t ya? You ain’t got no reason to worry though. I’m right handy with a gun.” He patted the holster slung at his side. “But it were timely the way them Talbot twins come riding up when they did. Couldn’t have planned a better day for one of their mock holdups.”

  “You know those boys?” Elenora asked.

  “Yup. Tommy and Timmy. They turned thirteen last month and think they’re full-fledged men now, but they still got some growin’ up to do. They live in El Dorado, same as your Mr. Rutledge.”

  Tildy snickered. “He’s not our Mr. Rutledge. Mama’s just going to work with him in his shop.” A mischievous glint shone in her eyes. “Course if he’s real nice, maybe Mama will like him, and he could be—”

  “We’re not far from El Dorado, are we, sir?”

  The driver jammed his sweat-stained hat on his head. “No ma’am. Couple more miles is all. I’ll have you there faster than you can say Rutledge Mercantile.” He chuckled as he headed for his seat.

  With a call from the driver to his team, they were underway. Tildy scrambled around the folded end of the jump seat and planted herself on the rear-facing bench as far from Elenora as possible in the confines of the tiny passenger compartment.

  The stagecoach, which had seemed little more than a torture chamber on wheels earlier, now struck Elenora as cozy. Thank the Almighty they were unharmed. She shuddered to think what terrible fate might have befallen them if the twins hadn’t ridden up when they did.

  Perhaps the Lord had actually heard her prayer after all. Mama had always said He was ever present, protecting His flock at all times. If only her faith were as strong as Mama’s had been. But after an arranged marriage to a man with a mean mouth followed by his funeral and years under Pa’s thumb, Elenora couldn’t help but wonder if God cared about her happiness. He certainly didn’t seem to be the comforting presence Mama had found Him.

  Not that Elenora had forsaken her faith. She’d prayed about the move West, but when answers weren’t forthcoming, she took charge of the situation. For years she’d done what Pa expected of her, but she’d finally found the courage to break free of his tightfisted hold and lead her own life.

  In less than an hour she’d be a partner in a successful mercantile. Pa might not have been willing to make her a partner in his, but Mr. Rutledge had chosen her from all the candidates who’d answered his advertisement for a partner. Although being accosted en route to her new home didn
’t paint a promising picture, she’d dealt with railroaders in Omaha. She could do this. She would simply stand tall, face the future with her feet planted firmly beneath her, and rely on the one person she could trust. Herself.

  Tildy’s boots scraped the wooden floor as she swung her legs. “I can’t wait to get there. I just know Mr. Rutledge will like me. What did Mrs. Rutledge say again?” Only her spirited daughter could make such a smooth shift from their perilous situation to the adventure awaiting them in El Dorado.

  “You know the answer, sweetheart. It hasn’t changed.”

  “Say it anyways, one more time. Please?”

  Elenora shook her head and smiled. How could she deny Tildy’s request? Her poor girl had been cooped up for days. “She said her son has a soft spot for little girls, and she’s sure he’ll let you help him in the shop from time to time.”

  “I hope he sells candy.”

  “Since there’s a grocer in town, he may not. We’ll know soon enough.”

  “There were grocers in Omaha, but Grandpa still had candy in his mercantile.” Tildy rubbed her stomach. She sat quietly for a moment and then creased her forehead. “Do you think Mr. Rutledge will be…friendlier than Grandpa?”

  “His mother said he has blue eyes that twinkle when he smiles and a laugh that bounces off the rafters, so what do you think?”

  “I think he sounds wonderful. And I know I’m going to like him.” Tildy stood, rolled up the supple leather covering the glassless side window, and secured it with the straps. The landscape sped by in a blur of sprawling oaks and shrubs with reddish-brown bark and pale green oval leaves—manzanita the conductor had called them. A hint of a breeze carried the earthy scent from clumps of California bunchgrass sprinkled over the hillsides.

  Tildy leaned out. Elenora opened her mouth to issue a warning but bit back the words. What was a little dust after the fine black particles that had rained on them the past week? They already smelled of grease and soot. She attempted to smooth the wrinkles in the sturdy poplin of her skirt, glanced at her once-white gloves, and sighed.

  Hopefully Mr. Rutledge was an understanding man and wouldn’t think less of her for arriving in such a state. And please, let him be all Tildy hoped he’d be. She needed to see that there were men in this world who would treat her kindly. Jake’s razor-sharp tongue had left scars, and Pa didn’t know how to be anything but gruff. If Maude Rutledge had been truthful, her son would be a decided improvement. There was one way to find out. Tildy could speak with him first.