The Outlaw Mail Order Bride (#11, Brides of Montana Western Romance) (A Historical Romance Book): Brides of Montana Western Romance, #11

By Leah Laurens

She married the wrong man... now she's an outlaw!

Summer Reese made the biggest mistake of her life.

She became a mail order bride.

Now she's running from the law.

She wanted a family... a husband... children. But her husband used her and set her up.

Now the only man who can save her is the sheriff's cousin.

Emile Poole.

He is an apothecary and has a way with the women, but he's never met a woman like Summer before.

He wants her … in no uncertain terms.

But there's only one way to get her…

Annul her marriage and clear her name.

And… Summer's husband made a mess for her, and now he's got to clean it up.

Can Summer and Emile stop the real outlaw, or will Summer always be running?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leah Laurens
• Release date: Feb 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393326915

Leah Laurens

Leah Laurens is a multi-voiced writer who always been a lover of historical romance novels since young, especially that of Western Romance. A romance set in the American West, Leah’s novels involve characters that are strong in character, each with a strong personality and with different pursuits in life. The Hero has his own adventures in life that he wants to pursue, the Heroine learning to survive and conquer the harsh challenges sometimes. Despite the many differences, there is somehow a destiny the hero and heroine must fulfil by meeting each other and to fall in love.  Through Leah’s writings, she hopes to inspire many who are waiting, questioning about love in a sometimes cynical world. That there will always be that silver linings in the clouds which one sees in their life. Some of Leah’s inspirations came from authors like Linda Lael Miller, Harper Sloan.

Book preview

chapter 1

*   *   *

Elmwood,

Missouri 1882

Summer Reese shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the train pulled into the station. The ride from Kansas had not been long, but it had been long enough.

Well, we made it, said the young woman next to her. Lucille Jordan had dark red hair and a hint of an Irish accent. She'd joined the train at a stop halfway to Elmwood and had moved to the seat beside Summer when a dark-haired man had made the most unbecoming advances toward her in the middle of the night.

Yes, said Summer. Butterflies fluttered through her stomach. Have you a hand mirror?

Lucile reached into her purse and pulled a small round mirror from its depths. Summer took it and tried not to hate the way her pale skin seemed somehow too pale, or the way her bright blond hair seemed suddenly dull. She'd always thought herself rather pretty, but now everything about her features seemed to speak of plainness.

I was afraid the whole time we were traveling, said Lucille.

Afraid? asked Summer.

That we would be robbed. The Beauty Bandits have been hitting every other train moving between here and Kansas. The newspapers say they're terrifying and will kill anyone on sight, even children and animals.

Summer turned her head, so Lucille would not see the doubt on her face. Some people believed anything, and newspapers had a way of growing stories out of nothing. I think some of the newspapers may have exaggerated things a tiny bit. From what I've heard, the bandits have only hit a handful of trains in the last half year, and none at all in the last month.

I don't know. Lucille looked around as if she might find a gun pointed at her even now.

Even if the bandits were to strike their train, Summer had nothing worth stealing. That, more than anything, gave her some comfort. She studied her face in the mirror, pinching her cheeks and wishing she might have had a chance to wash her hair before their arrival.

What did you say the man's name was again? asked Lucille as the train's wheels squealed.

Mack Townshend. Summer looked at her new friend. You don't know him, do you?

Lucille shook her head. I've racked my brain for the man's image, but all I get is a great glob of gray. His name strikes me as vaguely familiar, but I can't say in what regard.

Summer sighed and quickly tried to fluff her hair out. It fell to just past her shoulders, insisting on laying limp instead of crinkling into a slight wave as it usually did. She pulled it back into a low bun and willed it to stay put. Traveling by train most definitely did not suit her. She would be happy if this were the last trip she ever made in such a fashion.

Of course, I haven't been in Elmwood for very long myself, said Lucille. I imagine there are a great many people I've yet to meet.

I thought Elmwood was small. My sister's letters have always made it sound tiny, even compared to Little Creek. Saying the name of the town she'd left behind caused a tiny flip in Summer's chest. It would be better when Belle arrived. Then all three sisters would be together again and her anxiety might finally ease. Part of her still felt that she should never have left her younger sister alone.

I can't say I've ever been to Little Creek, said Lucille. Though certainly, I've been through a great deal of Kansas. My family is scattered throughout the state. She paused a moment and scrunched her brow. I think I know your older sister a little, from Elmwood. You said her name was Meadow, right? Meadow Reese?

Meadow Hanson now, but yes.

Lucille's hands clasped together in her lap as an especially loud squeal sounded and the train came to a final stop with a heavy jerk. The two women fell forward in their seats, their heads nearly colliding with the backs of the seats in front of them.

I've seen her at the bank, said Lucille, rising as a line of people began to file out.

Her husband is Booker Hanson. He owns one of the banks in town.

That must be it then. She probably visits there with him on occasion. I think we've passed a friendly hello here and there.

Summer held her purse tightly at her side, pulling her shawl around her shoulders as they exited the train, and she retrieved her small suitcase. A man and woman began waving their hands madly in the air, smiling and calling out.

Lucille waved back and turned to Meadow.

That's my cousin and her husband. Are you sure you'll be all right?

Summer smiled. Yes, thank you. Mack is meeting me here. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the man she would soon call her husband. First meetings were always the hardest. She wished again that she'd had time to wash her hair before leaving Kansas.

Lucille hesitated. I've never met a mail order bride before. Is it safe? Perhaps I ought to wait with you?

No, you go on, said Summer. Your cousin and her husband look quite anxious to be on their way.

Lucille turned and saw that her family had stopped waving and were now tapping their feet and looking at their pocket watches.

All right. Look me up once you're settled. You have my address. They embraced once then Lucille hurried to join her cousins.

An hour passed in the slowest way possible. Summer's stomach growled as hunger settled in. At least the early autumn breeze was kind to her, cooling her skin before the sun could settle too deeply into her pores and make her sweat.

Another half hour was gone, and Summer began to pace.

He's changed his mind. She wrung her hands together. Her head snapped up, her eyes darting from one end of the station to the other. What if he'd been here, taken one look at her, and fled?

Her chest heaved but she forced back the noxious fumes gathering inside her, making her stomach spin out of control. She told her mind and her body to cool themselves and started to walk.

A misunderstanding. That's all it is. He must have thought Meadow was meeting me. I'm staying with her, after all. It's the most natural mix-up in the world.

Yet for all her thoughts on the subject, no matter how valid they might be, Summer found an unwillingness to accept them stemming from deep inside her brain. She told her brain to keep cool, but the hotter her feet grew, the hotter her mind seemed to grow as well.

Something gold and shiny glimmered up at her from the dirt. She'd almost stepped on it, but the sunlight caught it right before her bootheel closed over it. She bent and picked it up, holding it up to the afternoon light.

A gold chain dangled from her fingertips. A heart-shaped gold pendant, outlined in tiny diamond studs, dropped from its center. She looked around for the necklace's owner, but no one paid her or it the slightest attention.

One of the station's clerks was standing at an open ticket window. He was short, bald, and had large round glasses. She went over to him. Excuse me. I've found a necklace. It looks to be quite expensive. She started to hand it to him, but he waved her off.

You can turn it in to the sheriff, he said.

Why can't I give it to you? Suppose someone comes looking for it.

You know why you can't give it to me? the little man said, agitated. He seemed the type to always be agitated. Because we have too many people turning things in all the time. Used to keep a box of lost objects. Then we had two boxes. Then three. People caught on and started claiming things were theirs when they weren't. Now we just send you to the sheriff's station and let him deal with it.

He nodded his head as if that finalized things somehow.

But I don't know where the sheriff's station is, she said.

Just go into town and ask someone there. They'll show you the way.

Summer hesitated then left the ticketing window. She put the necklace in her purse, pulled her light gray shawl tighter around her, and continued on her way. Once she was settled and learned where the sheriff's station was, she would inquire whether anyone had posted anything about the missing jewelry as the clerk suggested.

It was an awfully pretty necklace. She peered into the depths of her purse. There would be no harm in her holding onto it, maybe even wearing it, until such a time as the owner could be found. She needed something to pretty her up before meeting Mack. God may have sent the necklace to her just for that purpose.

With that thought in mind, she removed the necklace from her purse, took one more look around for the owner, then clasped the necklace behind her neck. She smiled to herself and fingered the heavy gold and jewels, then left the station and started toward town.

She rounded the corner at a wide brick building, studying her feet as she went, wondering whether she ought to go straight to Meadow's as she had started out to do, or if she might first look for Mack. It bothered her that he'd not shown. She bit her lip too hard and tasted blood on her tongue. Her head snapped up, and she realized she'd gone quite off the main road. She looked around for a sign and saw only decrepit old buildings, most of which seemed to be saloons or brothels.

Oh, she muttered to herself, her cheeks coloring. Meadow had warned her such places existed in Elmwood, but she hadn't thought much of them until now. She turned around and began to backtrack.

A woman's voice suddenly cried out, Stop! Help! Thief!

Summer looked around and saw a man with a handkerchief pulled up over his nose and a black hat pulled low over his eyes running toward her. He was carrying a brown leather purse in his hands. A woman of fifty chased after him.

Stop him! the woman called. He has all my money! Her voice and face were desperate.

The man was running at a good clip. Summer stuck her foot out just as he passed her. He tripped and went sprawling on the dirt. His hat managed to stay on his head, but he lost his gun. Summer hadn't seen the gun till now. If she had, she might not have interfered.

He rolled over, reaching for the gun with an outstretched arm covered in dirt. Meadow debated a second too long about whether to go for the gun or the purse, which lay at his feet. She finally settled on the gun, but her hand collided with the thief's, their fingers both wrapping around the barrel at the same time.

He grunted and yelled; she flinched but refused to let go. Neither had their hand on the trigger. He kicked out with his foot, sending her toppling over him. Her shawl fell to the ground. He let go of the gun long enough to wrestle both her hands up over her head, swallowing her wrists up in one giant palm. He was heavy, and his breath stank even through the mask he wore.

The middle-aged woman screamed again, only this time it was for Summer. Help! He'll kill her!

The man's hat started to fall back, but a strap that ran beneath his chin stopped it from revealing any more than the bridge of his nose. She squirmed under him and got one of her hands free. She reached for his mask. His hand shot out with lightning speed and punched her in the gut. She felt a thick dark cloud close around her but did not lose consciousness. Her knees instinctively tried to curl to her chest.

He lifted his fist, meaning to punch her again, and a hand suddenly shot out from behind him through the dark gray cloud and stopped him. Her attacker went flying back and Summer was able to sit up. The woman she'd tried to help ran to her.

Are you all right? You were so brave. Stupid, but brave.

A series of grunts exploded around them as her attacker now wrestled with her savior. Summer got to her feet, her knees wobbling, and stumbled forward in an effort to help. The men rolled right into her, and she fell over for a second time. The thief used the resulting confusion to grab hold of his gun and fire one shot into the air, freeing himself from her protector.

The thief never spoke a word, simply continued to hold the gun pointed upward as he backed slowly away with the woman's purse. When he got to the edge of the building on his right, he turned and ran.

Are you all right? Her protector’s voice was rich, luxurious. Listening to it was like stepping into a warm bath. Summer's heart began doing somersaults.

I'm okay, Summer said, surprised she was able to find her voice.

Her eyes never left the man before her. He had dark hair that matched his eyes and a thin mustache that curled at the ends. His skin was a rich golden tan, and the muscles beneath his shirt expanded with every breath. He smiled at her with soft pink lips that were wet with excitement, and she watched a bead of sweat slip slowly down his temple to his squared-off jawline. She wished she could reach out with one finger and wipe that bead of sweat away.

I'm Emile Poole, he said, and disappointment fixed itself in her chest. She'd hoped that somehow, he might introduce himself as Mack Townshend.

Summer, she said, her head still light. She took his offered hand. He brought it to moistened lips, kissing her gently. Her cheeks flushed.

You must be new here, he said.

How did you know?

I'd have remembered you.

Her cheeks burned brighter. Emile picked her shawl up off the ground, dusted it off, and handed it to her. His molasses eyes moved from her face to the woman beside her, who Summer had all but forgotten about.

Mrs. Jenkins, he asked, are you injured in any way?

No. She shook her head, salt and pepper hair flying out at all angles. A stout woman who had almost certainly once commanded a trim figure, she looked furious. I can't believe that man! I was walking along when I felt a gun pressed into my back from out of nowhere.

We should tell the sheriff, said Emile.

I'll go and get him. You stay here. The woman left them alone with a knowing look, her feet moving swiftly.

Summer's heart raced as Emile turned back to her. I wish Elmwood had afforded you a better welcome than this. He smiled at her, and Summer's insides began to dance.

Actually, she said. It's not as bad a welcome as you might think.

*   *   *

chapter 2

*   *   *

I'm in love, Emile said, his arms coming out at his sides and back down again like a bird trying to take flight.

Sidney shot him a look that said both that his twin brother was crazy as well as a liar. "Love? You?"

I am, Emile said. His voice was defensive.

Emile's joking, said Jack Weaver from the barber's chair Sidney had sat him in. Emile's always joking.

Sidney laughed and shook his head as if he should've realized that himself. He had the same dark hair and dark eyes as Emile but had shaved his pencil-thin mustache long ago when he'd learned that women could not tell them apart, despite Sidney being the better looking of the two, at least according to him.

This is no joke, said Emile. "I'm in love."

You, said Sidney, who only just last week told me you'd go to your grave a single man.

Who the week before that, said Jack, "told me you'd rather give a woman all your money than give her your heart."

I know it seems shocking, said Emile.

Not shocking so much as lunacy, said Sidney.

This woman is like none other I've ever met.

How so? asked Sidney.

She's beautiful.

There are plenty of beautiful women in Elmwood.

Not like this. Her curves... He drew a shapely figure in the air with his hands. Her lips... He puckered his lips without even thinking about it. Her eyes... He fluttered his lashes at them.

He's describing a dream, said Jack. I think he needs to go cool his head in South Fork River.

He needs to cool more than just his head, said Sidney.

You two are only jealous, said Emile.

Jealous of a figment of your imagination? Sidney’s laughter deepened.

Emile sat down in one of the barber chairs and began to spin. His head was buzzing with energy, a light rhythmic sound like soft rain on a windowpane filling his head and his ears. A thousand bird's wings fluttered in his stomach.

I'm in love, I tell you, he said again, his voice huskier than when it had started. He was getting mad.

This time, Sidney paused with the scissors halfway to Jack's dark blond hair. Jack looked back over his shoulder with smiling blue eyes. Tell us who the girl is already, or your brother will never finish giving me my haircut.

Sidney glowered at him and began snipping Jack's hair again.

She's beautiful, said Emile.

You already said that, said Jack.

I should hope she's beautiful, said Sidney. For your sake as well as mine. If I'm to have a sister-in-law, I would much prefer it if she did not resemble a rock. Especially if she has sisters she might later introduce me to.

I don't know whether she has any sisters, said Emile.

Where is she from? asked Jack.

Emile shrugged. I haven't a clue.

Why is she in Elmwood? asked Sidney.

I don't know.

Is she here to see family? Sidney persisted.

I don't know.

Does she even have any family? asked Jack.

Emile shrugged.

What's her family's name? said Sidney. Perhaps I know them.

I don't know her family's name.

Jack brushed aside the comb Sidney had taken to his hair and turned to face him. Let us recap this, shall we? He began counting off on his fingers. You don't know the woman's name, you don't know where she's from, and you don't know why she's here.

All true, said Emile.

"Is there anything you can tell us about this woman? asked Jack.

Mrs. Jenkins has met her as well and thinks of her with equal favor.

Mrs. Jenkins from the boardinghouse? asked Sidney, frowning.

Yes.

When did she meet this mystery woman? Sidney said.

She must be staying there, Jack said, answering for Emile.

I suppose, said Emile. I don't really know.

I feel like a mouse running in a circle, said Jack. Your answers are making me dizzy.

The door chimed, and Amos Hanson walked into the shop. All heads swiveled in his direction. His shiny sheriff's badge gleamed in the early evening sun streaming in through the window.

Cousin, said Sidney, I'm glad you're here. Perhaps you can talk some sense into my brother. He claims to be in love with a woman he's never laid eyes on before today, whose name he doesn't know, and who may very well be married with children for all he knows.

She had no ring on her finger, Emile said instantly. I made sure of that when I kissed her hand. And I know her first name. It's Summer.

Summer what? asked Jack.

Summer... He shrugged. Who cares what the rest is?

Amos let out a heavy sigh and rested his hands on his hips. Summer Reese.

Emile jumped out of the chair he'd been sitting in and had to restrain himself from grabbing hold of his cousin's shirt collar.

You got her name!

Of course, I did, said Amos. That's what you do after a robbery. You get the names of everyone involved.

Robbery? asked Sidney. What robbery? Is this the woman you've been talking about? Is she a thief?

Jack laughed. You're in love with an outlaw? Who did the woman rob?

Emile rolled his eyes. She robbed no one. She tried to stop the thief in question. A man stole Mrs. Jenkins' purse right out from under her by pressing a gun to her back. Summer chased after him.

You're joking again, said Jack.

I haven't joked this whole time. Summer chased the thief, and I chased after them both. I saved her when he got rough. She's invited me to dinner tomorrow night.

Where at? asked Jack.

Emile frowned. I don't know. But I told her she could find me at my apothecary shop, and I'm certain she'll be sending an invitation.

Wait a second. Sidney brushed the fallen hair from Jack's shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. Are you telling me that you've met the only woman in Elmwood as crazy as yourself?

She's not crazy.

What would you call a woman who runs after a man with a gun? Sidney asked.

Emile said nothing and turned back to Amos. You said her last name is Reese?

Amos nodded.

Emile frowned. Why do I know that name?

Because you know her sister, said Amos. They all looked at him. Meadow Hanson. Formerly Meadow Reese.

Emile's eyes brightened. Meadow's sister? How wonderful! When we're married, you and I shall be brothers.

Have you been nipping at the brandy? asked Amos and the other two men snickered. Maybe you've gotten into some of those tonics you sell at the apothecary shop.

Emile glared at him. I admit that in the past I've thought of love as something of a joke, but that's all changed now.

I give it a week, said Jack.

A day, said Sidney. They shook on it as Emile's temper began to boil over.

Amos