Moonlit Walks With Her Cowboy: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By Doreen Milstead

From New York To Nevada & Into The Arms Of The Wrong Cowboy - A woman travels from New York with her best friend, another mail order bride, to Nevada and both of their fiancés. When she reaches her intended cowboy she sees his twin brother and there’s an immediate attraction. However, she stays true to her promise with her feelings until her fiancé goes out of town on business with his father, and it’s then that things begin to develop at a rapid pace.

Three Sisters & the Journey West - A woman and her two sisters fall on hard times in England when their alcoholic father dies, so they all decide to go out west and seek mail order husbands. Only one has actually corresponded with a rancher but throughout the long journey by ship, train and stagecoach, she wonders if he’ll still be there at the end, and also, what will happen to her beloved sisters.

Hiding Out With Her Outlaw Husband & His Mother - A mail ordered bride expects to be met at the railway station by her intended but he’s nowhere to be found. She eventually trudges two miles to his home, but is repulsed by both his attitude and appearance, and his gang who are exceptionally seedy. Someone rescues her and as the days pass, and she’s holed up in a cabin with him and his ancient crone of a mother, things begin to heat up.

Jousting In The New Mexican Desert - A woman’s father sends her off via a matchmaker to a man with a castle in New Mexico. Diego takes reenactments and old Spanish artifacts to the extreme. He holds frequent jousts, with his cowboys as participants, and has decorated his castle in a medieval style. One day, a chalice is discovered in an ornate wooden box buried in the desert. Then, the miracles start to happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370577330

Book preview

Moonlit Walks With Her Cowboy: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2017 Susan Hart

Partial cover photo copyright: kdshutterman / 123RF Stock Photo

From New York To Nevada & Into The Arms Of The Wrong Cowboy

Three Sisters & the Journey West

Hiding Out With Her Outlaw Husband & His Mother

Jousting In The New Mexican Desert

From New York To Nevada & Into The Arms Of The Wrong Cowboy

Synopsis: From New York To Nevada & Into The Arms Of The Wrong Cowboy - A woman travels from New York with her best friend, another mail order bride, to Nevada and both of their fiancés. When she reaches her intended cowboy she sees his twin brother and there’s an immediate attraction. However, she stays true to her promise with her feelings until her fiancé goes out of town on business with his father, and it’s then that things begin to develop at a rapid pace.

Absently twisting a strand of her long auburn hair, Charlotte strained to get a glimpse of her new home amidst the frantic bouncing of the stagecoach. Yet all there was to see was an endless rocky desert; it was so different from the city she’d left behind.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a hand grasped her sweaty palm and gently pulled it away from the nervous habit.

It’ll be okay. Lennie’s voice was soothing, as always and Charlotte looked up to stare into the reassuring eyes of her companion. But, I swear, if you don’t stop messing with your hair, you’re going to be bald by the time we get there.

With a sheepish half-smile, Charlotte turned her attention to the picture and pile of letters that were sitting in her lap. They hadn’t parted from her side since she’d left New York nearly a month before. The photo depicted an attractive young man with unkempt hair and the faint hint of a well-worn smile. The letters, written in hurried and sloppy form, were short and simple, vaguely detailing what her life in Nevada would be like.

Are we crazy, Len? Charlotte turned to her friend, whose towhead blonde hair was as wild as her personality.

Lennie looked amused. Barely more than twenty years ago, your parents were starving in Ireland. Now their orphaned daughter is traveling to the infamous Wild West of America to marry a man she’s never met and knows little about. Life is unpredictable and cruel and it drives us to do strange things. She shrugged and gently placed her arm around her Charlotte’s shoulder. So what’s the point of trying to define ‘crazy’?

With a defeated laugh, Charlotte let her head fall back against the rigid seat. I guess you’re right. Surely, you’re at least a bit nervous, though? She paused briefly before switching to a more playful tone. After all, you know less about his royal highness, Sir Jonathan Lanier, than I know about my desperate groom-to-be.

Lennie feigned offense and scoffed dramatically. That is Mister Jonathan Lanier to you, Madame Gallagher.

When their quiet laughter subsided, Lennie became serious again. Honestly, I am quite nervous. I think that any girl in our position would be nervous—if not scared out of her mind. But I’m also optimistic. There was nothing for us in New York. We left no families; we didn’t have money. This is our chance to find a home and maybe even love.

Charlotte knew her friend was right. Her parents had migrated to the United States to escape the famine in Ireland. But soon after they’d settled in New York and finally started the family they’d always wanted, they came down with smallpox. Her parents died from the illness, but she—deemed the miracle baby—had survived.

Their only child, Charlotte was sent to live with distant relatives, who were so busy tending to their brood of spoiled, hysterical children—whom Lennie had dubbed the shrieking seven—that she was often overlooked. Upon deciding to venture west, she’d slipped a short note underneath their door and slipped out without saying a word.

Shaking herself from thoughts of her own past, Charlotte turned to Lennie. Her friend since childhood, the girl had always been lively and tomboyish, often rebelling against social norms, much to the displeasure of her parents and three sisters. She often said that the only practice of sophistication that she wanted any part of were the books. She loathed her given name, which was Eleanor and had obstinately insisted on being called Lennie for as long as she could remember.

Lennie’s story had never been a happy one. Throughout their childhood, Lennie had often shown up at Charlotte’s door with black eyes and bruises, courtesy of her father. Her manic mother and older sisters never seemed to fare much better. When she was eight, the story took an even darker turn: Her mother abandoned the family, her sisters—who’d always viewed her as the outcast—married well and never looked back and her father had drunk his way into oblivion, no longer caring for or even recognizing his last remaining daughter. However, despite it all, Lennie was one of the merriest people that Charlotte had ever known.

The inseparable pair had always been a site to see: Lennie with her short, gangly figure and chronically disheveled blonde mane and her, the ever-quiet redhead who towered over her. As they sat together in the crowded carriage, Charlotte realized—not for the first time—that she couldn’t imagine a life without Lennie.

So, when Lennie had suggested that they answer mail-order ads for brides out west, Charlotte had agreed without much hesitation. And although she never admitted it to herself, Charlotte would’ve followed Lennie anywhere. And she knew that Lennie would’ve never left without her.

As the sky grew slowly darker, she reached for her friend’s hand and the two slowly drifted to sleep as the coach carried on through the night.

When is she supposed to get here? The question was followed by a soft grunt and the whooshing sound of an axe before it spliced a log in half.

Umm, I’m not really sure. The answer was nonchalant.

Robert stopped his swing in midair to look at the man who sat propped against the side of the barn, lazily reading. For two people who looked so much alike, they’d always had a hard time understanding one another.

Wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing back the blonde strands of hair that had fallen into his face, Robert waited for his brother to say more. When only silence followed, he spoke again. So…you have no idea?

Tommy looked up from his book, confused by the tone in his twin’s voice. No, not really. I received a telegram from St. Louis over a fortnight ago, saying that she was on her way. But you know how unpredictable coaches are. Why do you ask?

Robert looked at him with subtle disbelief. Because your life—our lives are about to change considerably.

Tommy grinned. With his twinkling green eyes and deep dimples, his boyish smile had managed to get him out of a lot of trouble throughout his life. And while he’d never gotten into any serious mischief—settling instead for harmless pranks and carefully timed jokes—his mannerisms starkly contrasted those of his soft-spoken and responsible twin.

Snapping his book shut and clambering up from his shady reading spot, Tommy teased his brother. I think you’re just scared to have a woman in the house.

Robert shook his head and turned his focus back to splitting wood. Smiling, Tommy began to whistle as he strolled off along the well-worn path to the family’s spacious ranch house.

Charlotte stifled a groan as the stagecoach roughly conquered a large bump in its path, the impact of which caused her to bounce out of her seat and hit her head against the glass windowpane.

Are you alright? the elderly woman across from her asked, the concern in her voice genuine.

Oh, yes, quite. Thank you, Charlotte replied, mustering a smile as she gingerly rubbed the part of her head that had come into impact with the glass.

They’d been traveling with the same five passengers since they left St. Louis, but most of them had kept to themselves. In fact, it was the first time in over two weeks that Charlotte had heard the woman speak.

As the carriage continued to jolt along, she sighed.

Within the first few days of their journey, they’d begun to feel the ache that came from spending hours a day for days on end in a stagecoach. While the bruises that came from being thrown against the sides of the carriage were obnoxious, they soon became more concerned with finding ways to cushion their rumps as they bounced up and down on the cold, hard bench.

It had gotten to the point that they’d begun stuffing their pantaloons with their nightgowns and extra undergarments, which they discovered was quite effective against the vicious jostling of the carriage. However, despite the extra padding, Charlotte still found herself in pain every night.

Charlotte glanced over at Lennie, who was sitting much taller than she did under normal circumstances. She wondered if any of the other passengers were aware of their secret.

How many days has it been? Lennie asked, shifting uncomfortably. Even with this extra cushioning, my backside is throbbing.

Mine, too, Charlotte agreed, her freckled face scrunching up. From the talk I’ve heard, we should be to San Francisco within the next couple of days.

Lennie’s only response was an exasperated sigh.

If there was more room to stretch out, this trip would be a lot more bearable, Charlotte continued, motioning to her cramped legs.

I guess there are benefits to being shorter than most, Lennie laughed, swinging her rail-thin legs that barely brushed the floor. I’d be miserable if I had longer legs. At least my head doesn’t bump into the walls. I’m sorry you got stuck by the window.

Charlotte shot a playful glare toward her companion just as the stagecoach bounced again, this time sending Tommy’s letters and photograph flying across the floor in front of her.

Oh, no. Both Lennie and Charlotte reached down to collect the scattered documents, as did several of their fellow passengers, including the kind woman adjacent to Charlotte.

Handing the picture of Tommy back to Charlotte, the woman smiled. He’s a handsome lad and has a nice strong jaw. Is that who you’re heading west for?

Charlotte blushed as she returned the woman’s smile and graciously accepted the photo. Yes, actually.

Well he’s a lucky one, the woman cooed. How long ago did he set out west?

Well, Charlotte stammered, I truly don’t know. In fact, I don’t know much about him at all. We’ve never…we’ve never actually met.

Oh? The woman didn’t seem to understand.

He, uhh… He posted an ad in the papers, saying he was looking for a woman—a wife, Charlotte tried to explain delicately. I responded several months ago and we’ve exchanged a few letters. In his last correspondence, he asked if I’d move to Nevada and marry him.

The light came on in the woman’s eyes. Oh, yes. A mail order bride, right? I’ve heard that it’s a common thing these days. All those poor men out west with no women to care for them.

Charlotte smiled. The woman’s reaction was refreshing, since most of the people who had heard of her adventure were startled, at best.

I’m doing the same, Lennie piped up.

The woman gave Lennie a warm smile. Well I’m not a mail-order bride. But you could say I’m kind of a mail-order mother.

The trio shared a laugh before Charlotte ventured to ask, How so?

Well, my youngest son, Daniel, she began, owns a saloon in San Francisco. He went out west in the early days of the gold rush and did pretty well for himself, but he never came back east. Instead, he’s been writing to me, asking me to venture out to California and help him start a boarding house. He says they’re in huge demand, what with the influx of people that the area’s seen in the past few years.

Maybe we should’ve looked into becoming mail-order mothers instead of brides, Lennie laughed.

Oh, no, the woman said, shaking her head, You girls are much too young and much too beautiful to waste your lives running a boarding house. You have so much ahead of you and such handsome men waiting for you.

Handsome men that could turn out to be bores or worse, Charlotte said cautiously. We calculated the risks.

I don’t even know if my guy is handsome, Lennie added. He never sent me a picture. Only a letter, in which he introduced himself as ‘Mister Jonathan William Lanier of Carson City, Nevada, owner of King’s Hill Ranch.’

The woman chuckled. Well, at least he sounds prestigious. Speaking of introductions, I’m Virginia Ellis. Then she added slyly, …originally of Boston, Massachusetts, but soon-to-be of San Francisco, owner of…a boarding house.

Lennie and Charlotte laughed as they introduced themselves in turn.

Virginia looked thoughtfully at the two girls. You know, I’d never met my husband before we became betrothed. Peter and I were married in 1825, and shared thirty perfect years together. I came to love him very much.

Her eyes grew misty.

I’m sorry. Both the girls whispered simultaneously.

Nah. Virginia waved her hand at their sympathies. We had a great life together and I am still having a great life without him. She laughed. We have three wonderful sons.

Are they all out west? Lennie asked.

Oh, no, Virginia shook her head, only Daniel. My older boys are happily married back in Boston and have started families. Her face turned sad once more. I will miss watching my grandchildren grow, but they will be happy without me.

The girls smiled sympathetically.

Say, Virginia said, looking at them quizzically, do you girls have a place to stay when we arrive in San Francisco?

Lennie answered. No…we actually hadn’t given it much thought. We’re taking the coach to Carson City on the 24th.

Virginia smiled kindly. Well, you’re welcome to a lovely room in San Francisco for as long as you’d like it.

As he climbed out of the warm bed and his feet hit the cold floor, Tommy thought about the words he’d used to taunt Robert. While they would never admit it, they were all a bit scared to have a woman in the house again.

Early memories of his mother came flooding back, as they so