Drive Towards Spring: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By Doreen Milstead

Three Brides For Three Cowboy Brothers - Three mail order brides show up on the same day for three brothers. No one gets along and mostly, all dislike each other. When some cattle are rustled the women make a plan that could bring everyone together in some kind of peace PLUS Three Brothers & The Fighting Brides - A group of women head out west on the train to meet their mail ordered husbands but when a fight erupts that spills out onto the train platform, all that the three waiting brothers can see is a mass of swirling skirts and bonnets and differently colored hair PLUS 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 PLUS Five Sisters And Two Bachelors Along The Oregon Trail – Five sisters take the perilous journey west and along the way, form a few deep and abiding relationships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387395446

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Drive Towards Spring: Four Historical Romance Novellas

Drive Towards Spring: Four Historical Romance Novellas

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2017 Susan Hart

Three Brides For Three Cowboy Brothers

Synopsis: Three Brides For Three Cowboy Brothers - Three mail order brides show up on the same day for three brothers.  No one gets along and mostly, all dislike each other. When some cattle are rustled the women make a plan that could bring everyone together in some kind of peace -- or, maybe not.

Preston Brantley had been a pioneer in every sense of the word. In 1835, he married a Colonel’s daughter named Elizabeth Stuart and moved west, to what was then called the Republic of Texas. He steered clear of the political turmoil of the area and managed not to get enlisted in Sam Houston’s army. Instead, he focused on building a thriving cattle ranch. In the early years he and his wife traveled alone with the cattle across the Great Plains, selling them to local merchants.

As time went by, Texas became the 28th state and the railroads moved ever further west. Preston Brantley bred more cattle, hired more men and shipped his product east, where people paid large sums of money for it. In this way, the Brantley Ranch increased in size and profitability.

When the southern states went to war with the northern states, Preston was too old to fight, though his three sons all went off to war. The Brantley’s were not very invested in the conflict and the patriarch told his children to fight well, but not to put their necks on the line. He said, We’ve an obligation to fight, but not one to get killed, do you understand me? Ya’ll come back from this fight.

Although the conflict was long, Preston lived to see all three of his boys return home. Not long after that, he passed away in the middle of the night. His sons buried him on the ranch, under the shade of a large tree and next to their mother. Several days afterwards, as they went about their business, they realized something.

James, the oldest of the three, went to the others and said, Look here. Our mother and father are dead. They lived long, good lives and they worked to bring up this ranch from nothing. In our lifetime we’ve seen the family ranch grow to something amazing—something our father probably never imagined it could be. Now we’ve returned from war without a scratch on any of us. What’s next?

The other two brothers, whose names were Arthur and Lewis, shrugged and shook their heads.

Well, James went on. This here is the Brantley Ranch, is it not? It belongs to our family and it came very close to being lost completely. Why, we could have all died in the war and there would be no more Brantleys left in Texas. Who would take it over? Our cousins in Baltimore? They wouldn’t know one end of a steer from the other if it were biting them in the butt! No, we’ve got to do something about this.

Arthur, the middle brother, groaned loudly. Are you talking about having kids? Getting married? No thank you, James. I’m content being a bachelor. Why would I want to give up my freedom?

The youngest of the bunch, Lewis, nodded at Arthur’s statement. I just don’t see the point either, James. You go on and get married if you want, but I’m fine with my life.

You can’t be serious, James said. What will you do with yourselves otherwise?

Arthur and Lewis struggled to think of something.

Ya’ll are worthless, you know that? James said.

For the moment, the matter was dropped. Arthur and Lewis went on being bachelors and James went into Dallas on the weekends to attempt to court women. He had several letters of introduction from his father’s business partners. However, no matter how many women he met he was never satisfied. Either the girl was thoroughly uninteresting, or they weren’t willing to move out into the country. After several weeks of this, James grew bored of his long, unfruitful trips to Dallas and stopped going.

On a Saturday afternoon in April, he sat astride his horse, surveying the cowboys. Every one of them was busy at his job, though, to tell the truth there wasn’t much work to do. The cattle were almost ready to be driven north. As long as they were fat and healthy, there wasn’t much to do with them. He absently stroked his horse’s mane, sighing and thinking about the girls in Dallas.

Lost in contemplation, he failed to notice that one of the cowboys, a man named Howard Copley, had approached him, hat in hand.

Mr. Brantley? Howard said.

Hm? James blinked the thoughts out of his head and turned to the cowboy. He smiled with embarrassment. Oh, sorry, Howard, I got my head in the clouds. What can I do for ya?

Well, Mr. Brantley, it’s just, well, I’m going to need next weekend off.

Oh? That’s no problem. I don’t foresee much work here anyway. What have you got going on?

Howard flushed red. He picked something off his horse’s ear. Oh, I’m getting married next Saturday, is all, he said.

James raised his eyebrows. To who? he asked, then, realizing what he’d said, raised a hand. I mean, I’m glad to hear it.

Howard chuckled. No, I know I don’t exactly seem the type to go off courting the womenfolk. Truth be told, I never had much luck in that arena. But now I been at Brantley Ranch for going on three years and I’ve got my life in a stable place…Well, I figured it was time, you know. I got me one of them mail order brides.

A what, asked James, cocking his head to one side.

Just like it sounds, Mr. Brantley. You send away for a woman, exchange some letters, you know, to get a sense of each other, and then she ships herself off on a train. Woman I got is from Montreal. Speaks French…English too. Her writing isn’t so good, but I could understand it well enough.

How long has she been here? James asked.

I’m going down to Dallas tonight. Pick her up tomorrow evening, Howard said.

And you’re getting married on Saturday?

Yes, sir.

James laughed. He leaned forward and clapped Howard on the shoulder. Good luck to you, Howard. I truly mean it.

Howard grinned from ear to ear. Thank you, Mr. Brantley. And let me know if you need any extra work done, I can make up for being absent this weekend.

Oh, don’t worry about it Howard, I want you to enjoy your weekend. Don’t come back until Tuesday, all right?

Howard shook James by the hand. Thank you, Mr. Brantley! he said, and rode off to the other cowboys. James watched him go, rubbing his chin.

That same evening, the three Brantley brothers sat eating dinner together in the kitchen of the family ranch house. Their cook, a Mexican woman named Violeta, had prepared the meal. As James slowly ate his rice and beans he surveyed his two brothers. Arthur shoveled the food into his mouth as if it would soon go running away. Lewis picked at the beans with his fork and nibbled on them.

Both of them frustrated James completely. He set his fork down on the tablecloth and leaned back in his chair.

Ya’ll hear that Howard Copley is getting married, he said.

Arthur and Lewis looked up from their food. Huh, they said together.

Copley. The cowboy.

I know who he is, Arthur said. I just didn’t know he was getting married. He turned to Lewis. Any of the other ranchers nearby have a daughter that recently put on a little extra weight?

James slapped his hand on the table. That’s enough, Arthur. He’s marrying a woman from out of town. Met her through correspondence.

How’s that work? Lewis asked.

James explained what Howard had told him earlier. Arthur stroked his chin. Ain’t that awful risky? What if they don’t get along? Or worse?

What would be worse, Lewis asked.

Arthur shrugged. Maybe she’s got a club foot.

She doesn’t have a club foot, James said. Anyway, I think I’m going to do it, too. I’m going to write my advertisement right now as a matter of fact. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.

Without another word, he left the room.

An hour later, James sat at a small writing desk in his room with two candles burning. He had written several advertisements already but none of them had sounded quite right and he had balled them up and thrown them into the corner. As he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and placed it atop his blotting pad, a knock came at his door.

Without waiting for answer, Arthur strode into James’ room and sat down on the edge of his bed. He placed his hands on his knees and tapped his fingers. James waited a moment, but his brother said nothing.

Yes, James asked.

I was thinking… Arthur said.

That’s never good, James said, tapping his pen against his chin.

Arthur ignored the comment. What kind of girls reply to these letter things, he asked.

James shrugged. All sorts I guess.

And I could ask them questions before they came out. Like, if they’ve got a club foot or something, and they’d have to tell me?

James bit his lip before responding. Sure, Arthur…you could ask them that.

Interesting, Arthur said. Then he stood up and clapped his brother on the shoulder. All right, I’ll do it. Will you add me to your advertisement?

Um…

Thanks!

And with that, Arthur left the room. After he closed the door, James could hear him whistling down the hallway.

As James set about writing the advertisement once more, there came another tap at his door. Come in! he called.

James… a voice from the other side said. It was Lewis.

I said come in, James said.

Can I come in, Lewis asked.

James sighed heavily, stood up, and opened his bedroom door. What do you want Lewis?

Lewis ducked into the room furtively, as if he were being followed. So, he said, that letter thing? With the women? It sounds pretty easy, right? I wouldn’t have to go into town and court a dozen girls before one finally says yes to me.

Um. Yes, I suppose so, James said beginning to understand.

Lewis nodded resolutely. Fine. Add me to the advertisement. But don’t tell Arthur, or he’ll just make a big joke out of it.

My lips are sealed, James said.

Thanks, brother, said Lewis. In another moment he snuck back out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Finally, James was left alone to write.

Two weeks later, the postman arrived at Brantley Ranch, delivering from his satchel one piece of mail to each of the Brantley brothers. They read their mail over breakfast, each of them looking furtively up at his siblings, then back down to his letter.

What does yours say, Arthur asked James.

It says nothing of any concern to you, James answered.

What did you get, Arthur asked Lewis.

Nothing, Lewis said, quickly folding his letter and crumpling it into his pocket. I have to go feed the horses, he said and left the table.

Arthur watched him go and turned to his older sibling. What is he talking about? The cowboys will have fed the horses over an hour ago.

I don’t know, James shrugged. I have to write a reply to this. He stood up and left Arthur alone at the breakfast table.

Arthur looked around the empty kitchen, shrugged, cleared his throat and read aloud: "‘Dear Mr. Brantley, my name is Ada McQueen. I am the daughter of a poor fisherman from the small town of Warren, Vermont. I am a proficient seamstress; a good cook and I can ride a horse fairly well. My mother left this world several years ago, and my father is often away on long fishing trips.

‘I have nothing with which to occupy myself in this backwoods place and I want to see more of the country. I hope I can come out to Texas to meet you and see your ranch. The description in your advertisement made it out to be a very lovely place. Please tell me a little more about yourself when you respond.’"

Beside the letter, there was a tintype photograph enclosed in the envelope. Arthur slipped it out and held it between his fingers. He whistled a low note and pecked the photograph with his lips. Ada McQueen had dark hair, a fair complexion, and if the photograph was to be believed, wide, smoky eyes.

Arthur’s chair screeched against the hardwood floor as he stood up. James, he called out. "I need to borrow some of your