Courtships and Carriages: Great Plains Series, #1

By Janet Syas Nitsick

Courtships and Carriages, a sweet Christian romance, returns readers to the Midwest in 1893, where men who drove fancy carriages like debonair Nolan Braford could make ladies' hearts flutter, such as Gwen Ward's. Her heart raced every time she saw him, especially when these rides included secret rendezvous, pretty flowers and stolen kisses. ... 

 

Her decision could be an easy one if only her dear-childhood friend, Russ Knudson, a kindhearted, humble man, a man who works with his hands -- a farmer -- was not also vying for her hand. He may not be as refined as Nolan, but his feelings were just as sincere and Gwen's love for him ran deep. And, if only Nolan was not the son of the corrupt mayor and her father, the publisher of a local paper, was not investigating that corruption.

 

The answer is in her court in Courtships and Carriages, which includes intrigue and suspense when a trunkful of mayoral electoral ballots comes up missing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Syas Nitsick
• Release date: Jan 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215439906

Janet Syas Nitsick

Author Janet Syas Nitsick is the daughter of former Nebraska State Senator George Syas, who served 26 years in the Unicameral and died Feb. 7, 1997. He was well respected for his knowledge of Nebraska’s constitution. Janet earned her Bachelor of Arts degree in 1995 as a nontraditional student. She is a former journalist and language arts teacher. She is married and has four sons with two being autistic. Their oldest nonverbal autistic son passed away suddenly on January 15, 2022. His loss leaves a hole in Janet and Paul’s hearts as wide as the Mississippi River.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Winter 1893

Omaha, Nebraska

Be careful, Gwen yelled to her mother as the snowflakes fell around them. She shrugged, thinking about how these wet flakes had to come as they headed for this boring inaugural. Stepping onto the boardwalk, she planted her feet firmly on the wooden planks dusted with snow before pressing forward. The biting air stung her face and hands. She thrust her cold-gloved hands further inside the fox muff. Glancing at her ma, who wore a blue coat trimmed with fur sleeves, she asked, Am I going too fast?

Her mother took a deep breath. No. I’m able to keep up. I’m more concerned about being late.

Gwen gazed ahead of her. I don’t know why the mayor decided to have his ceremony at the train station.

Pa said it’s because it’s the city hub of business activity, and the mayor wants to highlight that.

But it’s on the other side of town, Gwen said with disgust. She jerked her hand from the muff to brush the snow off her shoulders. She shivered. Horses hoofs pounded the brick pavement. Gwen turned and stared at the yellow-wheeled carriage approaching. What a beauty. She sighed, wishing her father owned one like that.

Whoa! shouted the driver to his horses as he stopped the vehicle beside the women. Peeking his head from outside the covered carriage, he called out to the duo, May I offer you a ride?

Is it proper to accept a ride from someone we don’t know? Gwen whispered to her mother.

We’re not going to make it in time if we don’t, and Pa won’t like that, Ma said in a hushed voice.

Gwen waved at him and they proceeded toward the carriage.

He stepped down from the vehicle.

Gwen looked up at him, taking in his strong chin, his twinkling-blue eyes and black-wavy hair sweeping around his brow. Her heart fluttered. She turned her face from him, not wanting him to notice her intense gaze.

Ma adjusted her hat and smiled at the young man. I’ll sit in the back.

You sure, Mrs ...

Ward.

Not the newspaper publisher’s wife?

Why, yes, she responded as her glove clasped his hand. 

Well, glad to make your acquaintance. I’m the mayor’s son, Nolan Bradford. He settled the mother in the seat behind him.

You’re the mayor’s son? Shouldn’t you already be on stage with your pa?

No, he’ll do fine without me. His gaze met hers and he extended his hand to Gwen. May I help you in, my lady?

She nodded. My lady. Her heart warmed at this handsome man and his gentlemanly manners.

Grasping her gloved hand, he assisted her into the passenger seat before he hurried to the driver’s side to grab the reins. He shifted his head to Gwen. Now, let’s go watch this—this—

Boring speech.

He laughed. Yes, you’re right.

She liked this man. Her hands trembled. Not from the cold air since the carriage’s top prevented her from the biting flakes but instead from his alluring personality. She had never been around someone so elegant and refined. Gwen wished the ride would never end, but soon they pulled up to the train station. 

Nolan stopped his vehicle and helped the women down. Turning to Mrs. Ward, he asked, Would you mind if I joined you after I tie up the horses? I don’t know if your husband would approve, though. He doesn’t like us much.

Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat, glancing over at her mother.

Her mother began, Your father will be too busy to care, having to cover the inaugural and all. Nolan smiled then went to his phaeton to urge the steeds forward.

Pa detested the mayor and anything to do with him. He believed the mayor’s family corrupt. Political matters, however, did not interest her although her mother participated in the women’s suffrage movement. She inserted her hands into the muff then repeated the motion several times to await Nolan’s return. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him approach. She released a long breath.

He grinned at Gwen as he stood beside them.

A surge of pleasure mixed with anxiety filled her being. She smiled, no longer dreading today’s pomp and circumstance. Instead, she relished standing in the bitter cold as long as she stood beside such a gallant gentleman.

XXXXX

Nolan glimpsed down at the blonde beauty with her soft-featured face. He gulped, knowing he hated politics but had to endure the political shenanigans with his pa being the mayor. He could understand why the publisher of the Omaha Bee hated his father. If he did not belong to this family, he would disown them himself. Once the inaugural ended, he would ask if he could call upon her. He liked the way the snow sprinkled the locks that rested on her shoulders.

She shook her head to brush the snow off her hair. The flakes flew in the air. Laughing, she looked up at him. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t get snow on you.

His heart melted. Not at all, Miss Ward.

Gwen.

What a pretty name for a beautiful lady.

She blushed. Why, thank you.

Mrs. Ward scooted passed Nolan.

Puzzled, he soon realized the reason for her action. Mrs. Ward wanted to stand next to her husband. Tall and lean and wearing a frock coat and derby hat, her husband exuded authority. Not far away, Nolan could pick up fragments of the Wards’ conversation.

I’m glad you wore your gloves for a change, Mrs. Ward said, examining his hands.

He chuckled. You wouldn’t approve if I didn’t.

From their banter, he could tell they cared for each other. As they continued to talk, Nolan returned his attention to the slender woman next to him. He must get to know her better. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it a moment later, when out of the corner of his eye he saw, her parents approach. They stood in front of them. Mr. Ward met Nolan’s gaze.

Thank you for giving my wife and daughter a ride. Mr. Ward smiled and stretched out his arm and shook Nolan’s hand.

Nolan stiffened his upper lip to not let the man’s self-assurance, which was so much like his father’s, intimidate him. You’re welcome. I couldn’t see these lovely ladies walking in this. He pointed to the blowing snow.

I appreciate that. Well, I’d better get ready to take those notes. Mr. Ward pulled out his small notebook and pen from his pocket then went to where he stood earlier.

Gwen looked up at Nolan and gestured to a man who stood next to the platform. That’s my brother, Jim. He’s going to take the inaugural pictures. Do you know him?

He glanced at the broad-shouldered man who carried a camera. Never met him but know of his work.

Pa says he’s a good reporter.

He chuckled. My father would disagree. Not because your brother isn’t good but because he’s given my pa so much trouble.

The sound of a trumpet and drumbeats permeated the landscape. Nolan shifted his head to the noise as the three-member band marched toward the stage. The crowd applauded. Once the clapping died down, snare and bass drummers, and a trumpeter played a series of patriotic songs before they left the stage. His father stepped up to the platform and scanned the area, his piercing gaze settling on his son. Nolan’s throat constricted. He’s not happy I’m standing by the enemy.

XXXXX

As the preacher said the closing prayer, Gwen glimpsed up at Nolan. She hated for the ceremony to end. Standing beside such a dashing-young man, her cheeks warmed despite the cold.

The crowd dissipated and Nolan turned to her.

Gwen. He stopped and cleared his throat. It’s been nice meeting you. I would love to ...

She smiled up at him a moment until her father approached.

Love to what? Gwen’s pa asked.

To—to call upon Gwen. Nolan gulped.

Don’t know if that’s a good idea with the situation. Well, you know the friction between your father and the paper.

But Pa, he’s the one who gave us a ride, Gwen said, biting her lower lip before she raised her face to her mother for agreement.

Her mother nodded and looked up at her husband. Mr. Ward, he did help us in this terrible weather and besides he’s not the mayor.

Well ... Pa did not finish the sentence. His tender eyes met his daughter’s. I understand that he did take pity on the two of you. He smiled. I’ll give it more thought but still think it’s not a good idea. He shifted his gaze to Nolan, adding, Hope you grasp my concern.

Nolan’s jaw clenched. He took a deep breath. I do. But please think about it, sir.

I will. Pa turned around and hurried down the street toward the newspaper office.

Gwen’s mouth twitched a second before she forced a smile. He didn’t say no. Sometimes he comes around.

It’ll be alright. He’s a businessman and doesn’t want complications. I know all about that.

You do?

Of course, but I’m not easily deterred. He laughed and shook her mother’s hand then grasped Gwen’s. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again. He tipped his hat and left.

Oh Ma, he’s such a refined man, she said in a soft tone.

I’ll see what I can do, she said, squeezing her daughter’s arm and releasing it a second later.

Thanks Ma. Taking a deep breath, Gwen proceeded forward. Her mother stepped beside her. With the snow no longer falling, their trip home would be an easier one.

XXXXX

Spring

Nolan left the phaeton carriage at home and mounted his horse. The sight of his fancy carriage may not be the best way to proceed with Gwen’s father. He wished he could secure her father’s permission to court her. He wanted to ask him earlier, but a series of snowstorms prevented him from doing so. The steed clomped down the road toward the publisher’s home—a business hub for anyone who had news to share when the newspaper office was closed.

When he reached the brick house with a white-picket fence, he halted the animal in front of the house, dismounted and wrapped the reins around the post. He strode to the house and knocked on their front door. Swinging the door open, a stern-looking butler faced him.

Please enter, the man said as he studied Nolan’s countenance.

I’m here to see Mr. Ward. Is he in? He presented him his calling card while he scanned the entryway. A wooden bench separated the grandfather clock in one corner from the brass, hat-and-coat tree in the other. A nice room but shabby when compared to his father’s tastes.

The butler took the card from him and examined it. Mr. Nolan Bradford. Is that correct?

Yes.

Stay here and I’ll see if he’s available. The butler exited.

Gwen’s voice drifted down from the upstairs. His body tingled at the thought of seeing her.

Footsteps approached. Mr. Ward stood in front of him and stretched out his hand.

He grasped his hand as his fingers scraped the card in the publisher’s palm.

Gwen’s father gestured to the room to his left. Nice to see you, again. We can talk in the formal parlor.

I appreciate any time you can give me. Nolan followed him.

The publisher sat in a plush armchair and pointed to another chair opposite him.

Nolan settled himself in the seat. From the bay windows, sunlight rays graced the grand piano. Flowers for Gwen would be nice sitting there. He smiled and faced Mr. Ward.

Would you like a smoke? the publisher asked, selecting a pipe among several which sat on the marble table beside him.

Why, thanks but I always carry my own. Nolan slipped his hand into his breast pocket, pulled out a pouch and opened it.

You’ve got quite a pipe there, young man. What’s it made of?

Pa ordered it from India. I like the carved design on the stem, and it has a good feel to it.

I bet, the publisher retorted while he stared at Nolan several seconds. He tapped down his tobacco and lit it before he reached to light Nolan’s. The two puffed as smoke swirled above them. For some reason, it helps me relax. And you?

Quite. Nolan forced a smile.

Now, what did you want to talk with me about, son?

Son. The word reminded Nolan of his father. He took another drag of his pipe to calm his ire. Nolan cleared his throat. Mr. Ward.

Please call me Melvin. We’re not at the newspaper.

He gazed at the circling smoke a moment. Alright, sir, and my name is Nolan.

Okay. Now tell me what you wanted to see me about.

He cleared his throat. At the inaugural, I expressed an interest in courting Gwen. You said you would consider it, and today I’m requesting your permission.

You seem like a nice fellow but perhaps spoiled a bit. Sorry, I speak honestly. It comes with the newspaper territory, you know.

Nolan nodded. He wished he had not shown off his flashy-blasted pipe. That did not go over well. How could he’d been so dumb?

Now, speaking of the courtship, I hadn’t thought much about it since I didn’t know you would pursue the matter. But as a former reporter and now publisher, I have a keen sense of what’s trouble, and I sense your family is trouble. Your father, well, I’d better keep my thoughts to myself.

I know but I’m not my father. He took another puff, thanking God he had this activity to distract him from his nervousness.

No, but it’s a bad situation. It’s no secret I’m on your father’s tail. It’s been all over the papers so to speak about the city’s corruption. We believe it flows from the top, I’m sad to say.

I’m not my father, Nolan again responded. All my life my father has caused me nothing but problems, and this time is no different. He took a deep breath to calm his temper.

No doubt. We’re all different, but an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Nolan swallowed the lump in his throat. I beg you to give me a chance.

Sorry, son.

Face taut, Nolan blew out the light and returned the pipe to his pouch. Please reexamine the—the situation.

Melvin stood up and looked down at Nolan. Then called out, Jackson!

The butler approached, his footsteps creaking on the wooden planks. Sir?

Please escort Mr. Bradford to the door.

The butler nodded as Nolan rose to his feet.

Melvin shook Nolan’s hand before he gazed over at the butler.

Nolan opened his mouth to plead with him