Mail Order Brides and Lomax Bad Brothers (A Western Romance Book)

By Faye Sonja

Three inspirational stories of women who risked everything for love and traveled thousands of miles to the western frontier.

Part 1: The Run Away Bride & Her Outlaw

Meet Faith Williamson who is abused at a young age and ran away from home at age eight after her mother died.

Part 2: The Lost Bride & Her Conman

Meet Carrie Brockman who is being sold to a stranger by her family she thought she could trust.

Part 3: The Duped Bride & Her Marshall

Meet Emeline Redfield who is alone and abandoned by her family after a childhood illness at an early age.

3 parts of heartwarming mail order brides tales of love, romance, and triumph over adversity in one book.

Love on the western frontier was a rare treasure. Follow these inspirational women who risked everything to travel to the untamed West in the hopes of finding love and starting a new family.

If you're a fan of clean western romance, you will love this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faye Sonja
• Release date: Feb 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393421306

Faye Sonja

Faye Sonja is a multi-voiced writer who aspires to use different voices in telling her stories, seeing characters coming alive through the multi-faceted writing styles give her great satisfaction. As a young girl, Faye Sonja has been fascinated with stories of the Old West, especially the theme of Mail Order Bride where a woman will find the courage to leave her homeland, take the plunge to seek out the love of her life out there in the unknown land. Such an act requires bravery, such an act requires faith. It takes a woman with strong Christian faith to step out on such a pursuit for her love. It is Faye's desire that readers will once again have the courage to believe in love again from reading her books, to be inspired through the characters in her story who through perseverance, in the face of obstacles, overcame the hurdles using that simple faith and belief of theirs. 

Book preview

PART 1

The Run Away Bride & Her Outlaw

1

*   *   *

Boston,

1878.

You're eighteen now, Retta said as she looked down at Faith, lying girlishly on the bed with her long golden hair splayed out beneath her. You know that you can no longer stay here in the orphanage. You're lucky we even kept you this long.

Faith raised up onto her elbow. But Retta...

Retta gave her a stern but kind look—one that Faith had seen a thousand times before. Retta, a spinster in her late 30s now who had worked at the orphanage for as long as Faith had lived there, was someone Faith considered a friend. But she was still staff and still an authority figure. It was a distance that could never quite be crossed.

Faith dropped her head and nodded. I am grateful for that, she said honestly. And I do now that I can no longer stay here. I've known that for some time. But I didn't like to think about the prospect of leaving. I've pushed it out of my mind every time it tried to show its head...

The orphanage was no nice place to live. But it was a horror that at least she knew. Girls like Faith, who knew nothing but abandonment, often preferred the horror of a place they knew over the unknown, in case it turned out to be worse. Even if the alternative turned out to be better. There was comfort in the known however terrible it was.

But Faith was slightly different from other girls like herself. She'd run away from home at the age of eight after her mother had died, and after weeks spent living on the street, had wound up in the orphanage under the care of Retta and the other matrons and sisters.

Ten years later, Faith still wasn't ready to leave. She was still scared, deep down, that she would be returned to the life she had before the orphanage—a life of abuse and terror far worse than anything in the orphanage. The few friends she had—the only friends in the world that she had—were in that orphanage with her. They slept in the same room as her (there were twelve girls to a room), and they shared their meals (only two a day) together. Though she'd seen her friends come and go, adopted one after the other, Faith had always remained, left behind.

In a way, Faith was glad she had never been adopted, strange as that sounded to the other children when she confessed it to them. The children that were adopted were almost always taken in by wealthy families, and Faith knew that the children of those families were expected to live a certain, conventional life. A life she didn't want to live.

If Faith had been adopted by a wealthy family in Boston, she would have been expected to take the same, regimented steps that her own mother had before her: come out as a debutante at sixteen, become engaged to a so-called 'respectable' man at seventeen, wed at eighteen.

But Faith was eighteen now and she'd skipped all that. She felt that it was a great blessing. No one expected anything of her, and when the matrons and wardens at the orphanage told her she would have a hard time finding a husband with her troubled background, she thought, good.

Now I will never be a man's property.

On the day she was to leave, Retta handed Faith a small case that held Faith's only worldly belongings: a photograph of her mama, a nightgown, a hair brush, and one change of clothes.

You're a very lucky girl, Faith, Retta said, taking Faith's face in her hands.

I am? Faith thought. She'd rarely felt lucky in her life. Though she supposed that being left behind in the orphanage while the other children were adopted into homes and families was a sort of luck...though most people would fail to see the luck in that, no matter how hard Faith tried to make them see it her way.

Do you understand that? Retta asked.

Faith nodded. She trusted Retta. If Retta said that she was lucky then Faith believed her.

Good, Retta said. Then pack your bags, child. I have found somewhere for you to stay now that your time with us is up. Hurry now, you mustn't be tardy.

Funny that even with all her world experience, a girl like Faith could still hold so much child-like naivety.

Wow, she thought as the carriage approached the hotel and stopped. I'm to stay in a place as nice as this? glowed as she stepped out of the carriage, wrapped in her woolen coat that just managed to protect her from the chill of the Boston winter. Retta reached for her hand and helped her down while Faith continued to beam up at the tall establishment standing five stories high into the air. For a small moment, Faith thought it looked like a snow-covered, fairytale castle fit for a princess.

But Retta, she asked as the woman led her toward the door. How will you ever afford to keep me at a place like this?

She didn't see the look on the other woman's face as they pushed forward through the snow.

Retta entered through the lobby of the hotel as Faith followed behind her. She could barely believe her luck. All this time worrying that I would be abandoned at a place worse than the orphanage...when all along I was to stay at a glorious hotel! she thought, her heart skipping along like stone over a river. Even when she looked behind the reception desk and saw the steep nightly rates, it did not dawn on her that it was completely impossible for Retta to pay those rates for more than a night, let alone any longer than that.

Dressed both elegantly yet crudely at the same time, a man in an expensive waistcoat with a crumpled and poorly-fitted cravat greeted Retta with a knowing expression.

This is Faith, Retta said plainly, pushing the girl forward. She is the one I told you about.

It's lovely to meet you, Faith, the man said. I am Rupert. I manage this hotel's...various offerings.

Various offerings? Faith thought a little uneasily. She smiled a little and offered her hand. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, she said.

I insist you call me Rupert, the man said with a voice thick and gravelly from years of smoking cigars. Faith noticed that he hadn't had a shave in several days, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath (and his clothes) as he leaned closer to her.

Faith looked at Retta for reassurance, but Retta had her attention fully focused on Rupert. Now, about the matter of payment, Retta said.

Faith felt her stomach muscles relax a little. As long as Retta had the money to pay for Faith's stay there she would be safe. This Rupert man would never abuse a paying guest.

Rupert nodded and looked around to make sure no one was watching before he reached down under the desk and pulled out a cloth bag that seemed light but was filled with something thick and bulky.

Confused, Faith frowned as Retta took a bag and pulled the notes out of it. But why...why has Rupert handed money to her...and not the other way around? Faith wondered, her stomach tensing up again. She couldn't understand what was happening.

Retta counted the money swiftly to make sure it was all there. That seems to be in order, she announced briskly before she stuffed the bag into her own purse.

Rupert glared at Retta for a second before he offered Faith a sly grin. Then I suppose this one belongs to me now, he said.

Quivering, Faith took a step back and shook her head. Retta, she said frantically. What is going...what is going on? Faith felt her throat tightening.

Retta looked at the floor for a second, her face briefly full of shame before she snapped her head up, draining the shame from it in one swift movement. You will be fine here, Faith, don't be dramatic. Please stand still, my child.

I am not your child, Faith whispered, biting back the tears that began to surface. You're...you're selling me to this man...

Retta sighed and rolled her eyes. She patted her purse. If I were selling you, I would have asked for more than this, she said.

Was that supposed to comfort me? Faith felt the blood rush to her face; she wanted to claw at her collar, pull her dress away. She felt the tightness of her corset almost choking her.

This is a simple payment for my troubles, Retta said. She nodded at Rupert. This man will still pay you a small wage to work here...

Faith's blood ran cold. Work here? As what? she hissed.

Rupert and Retta exchanged glances. Retta cleared her throat,As a cleaner, if that's all you are capable of. For now.

Faith grasped at her collar. It's too tight, she thought, panicking. Retta, she said, stepping in front of the woman as she tried to make her escape out of the lobby. Please. Let me come back to the orphanage. I can work there, for you, as a cleaner...

Retta looked back at Rupert, and Faith saw the fierceness in his eyes. That won't be possible, Retta said, pushing past her. I'm sorry, Faith, she added weakly before she scurried out of the lobby without even a look back at the girl who had once trusted her with her life.

Retta could paint the picture any way she wanted. Faith still knew the truth. She stared at Rupert.

I've been sold, she thought. I am now the property of a man.

You're a pretty one, Rupert said, looking her up and down in a way that caused her stomach to churn. Or at least you would be if you were cleaned up a bit. You could make good money here.

Faith gripped one hand in the other and forced herself to raise her head. She wouldn't be intimidated by the man no matter how desperate she was. I will take whatever wages the cleaning position offers, she said firmly, emphasizing the word 'cleaning.'

Rupert rolled his eyes in a tired and frustrated manner. The wages for the cleaner's position are not good. If you want to make good wages then... he reached out for Faith's arm, but she yanked it away like a stray dog with a broken limb that a stranger had tried to touch.

The cleaner's wages will be enough for me.

He scoffed. We'll see, he said, walking away from her before he shot over his shoulder. You'll see. Give it a week in this place, and you'll be begging me to let you do whatever it takes. Starvation has broken many a braver girl than you, Faith Williamson.

One Month Later.

The 'wages' that Rupert offered for his bought servants amounted to nothing more than room and board, where one was forced to sleep in a room the size of a cupboard with another girl, with not a dime left over and barely enough food to survive on.

But it was preferable to the alternative—the work that the other girls did for the extra money, for the men who travelled from cities far away, in town for a night or a week, away from the wives wholoved and trusted them.

Faith shook her head while she dressed, thinking about the poor women blind to their husbands’ deceits. That will never be me, she thought. I won't ever be any of the woman on either side of that situation.

In a way she was glad to pull on her yellow cleaner's outfit; she wore it like a cloak of honor. Her roommate, Annabelle, did not understand Faith's pride in such a thing and asked her again on this morning why Faith looked so happy to pull it on.

You do realize that uniform means you'll be scrubbing floors from noon till night, with barely a scrap of bread and a bowl of soup to show for all your hard work at the end of it? Annabelle stood up from her bed and wandered over to the mirror where Faith dressed.

This dress means that I am free, Faith murmured, staring down at the thin yellow material so worn in some spots that holes showed.

You're not free, Annabelle muttered with a scowl.

Faith knew that, deep down. But she held her head high. This dress symbolizes that I was not taken from the orphanage, and that is a sort of freedom to me...

Annabelle pulled her own frock over her head and stared at Faith in shock, Why exactly is not being adopted a good thing?

Faith gulped and stared into the mirror at her long golden hair, which still managed to shine even though Rupert allowed the girls little time to bathe or brush their hair. Because it means that I was never... she stopped talking. Never mind. Other girls always found it very queer when Faith spoke about her desire never to marry. They always thought she was crazy, or just plain strange. We ought to get to work, Faith said. We've got twenty rooms to scrub before this morning's guests arrive.

For just a moment, as Faith pulled her mop out of the closet and carried it upstairs, she wondered, What if I had gotten married? She stared up at the steep staircase looming before her. Surely it couldn't be any worse than this?

But Faith had seen what marriage could do to a woman. And it could be worse. It could be much worse.  Moreover, she'd vowed that she would never submit herself to such a fate.

What happened to your parents? Annabelle asked later than morning while they scrubbed. It was a question that was not often asked amongst the girls, not taboo exactly but an out-of-bounds question nonetheless. The answer a girl gave to the question was rarely a good one. If it was, the girl wouldn't be there.

My mama died, Faith said, picking up her mop.

And your papa?

Faith looked at the floor, I don't know where he is. As long as he doesn't come looking for me here, I don't care where he is.

My mama died giving birth to me, Annabelle said, hopping up off the stool, reaching for her broom and shovel. And my pa took his life a few years after that.

Faith wondered at the casual way that Annabelle could talk about such things, as though they had happened to someone else and not to her. Faith supposed it was a kind of coping mechanism, a way to deal with the tragedy. After all, she often spoke of her own family in such an emotionless manner though she felt anything but, especially when she thought about her poor mama.

Keen to change the topic of conversation, Faith wandered over the window of the fifth-story room and gazed out of it. There was no window in Faith and Annabelle's room, so she only had the rare chance to glimpse out them. Annabelle warned her to be careful, to move away before Rupert saw her.

But Faith leaned against the window pane and looked out at the snow falling on the ground below. There is a new girl arriving, Faith murmured.

There are always new girls coming. And going, Annabelle added pointedly.

What about Mary? Faith asked, referring to the girl that Faith had first shared a room with when she'd first moved in. It's been days since anyone saw her. She leaned against her mop and stole a look out the window onto the street below. She turned back to Annabelle. She's not coming back, is she?

Annabelle shrugged and went back to her sweeping, Doesn’t do much good speculating, does it?

Faith dipped her mop into the dirty water and sloshed it around. What if we're next though, Annabelle? Faith whispered.

Like I said, it doesn’t do much good to speculate, Annabelle replied.

Faith moved back to the center of the room to mop, hoping they would work in silence now, but Annabelle was not done talking.

They say that some of the girls, they get...sold, Annabelle whispered.

Faith turned to her in fright. Sold? Sold into what? Faith's lips trembled as the terrible options began to swirl though her head.

Annabelle rolled her eyes a little. Sold as brides, she said. So you can stop your imagination working over time there, Faith. She started sweeping again as though she hadn't just dropped the words that had torn apart Faith's world.

Faith could see Annabelle clearly believed that to be the end of it that, that the word 'brides' was supposed to have put Faith's mind at ease. But it had done anything but.

She grabbed Annabelle's arm, What are you talking about, Annabelle? Tell me you are just playing a trick on me. Trying to be funny, though I'm afraid I don't see the humor in it at all...

Annabelle looked up at her, her face full of annoyance. They only had so long allotted for their cleaning time before they would be punished for running over, and the floor was still filthy. No, it's not a joke, Faith. She pulled her arm away from Faith's grip, What's the big deal, anyway?

The big deal is being sold as a bride! Faith said in astonishment. Why, I am shocked that you can speak so casually about the idea of a woman being sold to a man as property.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, That's what marriage is, Faith. The woman becomes the property of the man.

Faith stared ahead, frozen. That's exactly what she was afraid of.

What's the matter? Annabelle asked. You don't want to get married?

No... Faith said, shaking her head as her eyes glazed over. No, I don't.

Annabelle raised her eyebrows. Well, you'd better get back to scrubbing. You don't want to get into Rupert's bad books. Otherwise, you'll be next. She looked Faith up and down. After all, you ain't making him any money as a cleaner. And he is going to want a return on his investment.

*   *   *

2

*   *   *

Texas,

1878

It was hard to send a letter to a man with no fixed address. And Nick Lomax rarely had a fixed address.

But he and his men, Hamilton, Dennis and the rest of his gang of outlaws, had been hanging around near the town of Burnsville for a month now, packed four men to a room in a run-down hotel and somehow, someone had learned of Nick's address.

Man, these flies are something shocking today, Dennis, a simple man with buck teeth and a tattered grey hat, said as he tried to sweep them away from the horse's eyes. The time was coming for their big heist, and they'd only be in town for a few more days. Once they were ready to go, they had to be ready, and that meant the horses had to be in their best shape. Dennis checked the horse's leg and mentioned to Nick that it wasn't looking so good.

Nick shrugged good-naturedly. He was the youngest of the gang, just like he had been the youngest in his family, and he wasn't one to worry about small details. Things had always come easily to Nick thanks to his charm and good looks, and due to the way the rest of the men always protected him like he was a baby brother to them. We'll be fine, he said with a wink.

They both turned when they saw Hamilton, a large, rotund man who was tall as well as wide, ambling towards them waving something in the air. "I got