The Man From Cripple Creek: A Western Christmas Romance

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. Guss Hindman came to Cripple Creek in search of gold, but after nearly dying in the mountains during bad weather, he’s forced to stay at Willow’s inn. Shy and sweet, she offers warmth and comfort, but Guss wants so much more, intending to make her his Christmas bride. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Love Lust Story
• Release date: Oct 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502297303

Carré White

  Carré White is the author of Sonoran Nights, a book that is set in the same small town in Arizona that she grew up in. After marrying, having children, and traveling, she settled in Colorado, enjoying nearly 350 days of sunshine. The Colorado Brides Series, which follow the lives of adventurous frontier women, who traveled west in the 1850's to find love is available now.

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Chapter One

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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.

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