A Bride for Brodie: The Prescott Brides, #5

By Cynthia Woolf

The Prescott Brides. A thrilling new series by USA Today Bestselling Author Cynthia Woolf!
Five outlaw brides. Five brothers. They take a chance and each find love.

Lottie might have become a bride to Brodie, but her past still lingers close. She dreams of having a family and marriage, and becoming a mail order bride gives her hope of finding the love she has always desired.

Brodie proves to be just as she had imagined: strong yet gentle, and fiercely protective. But he is mired in a past filled with trouble. Will Lottie and Brodie have the strength to do something extraordinary and prove that their love can conquer all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firehouse Publishing
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9781957834191

Cynthia Woolf

Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of twelve historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way. She was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends. Their closest neighbor was about one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006. Cynthia was and is an avid reader. Her mother was a librarian and brought new books home each week. This is where young Cynthia first got the storytelling bug. She wrote her first story at the age of ten. A romance about a little boy she liked at the time. Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.   Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she's made at CRW for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.   TITLES AVAILABLE   NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1 ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2 CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3 JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series) LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series) ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)     CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series) HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series) FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series) TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series) TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series) TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series) TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)     WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com   NEWSLETTER - http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ    

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The night before the weddings

Brodie Campbell sat at the poker table in The Copper Lady Saloon. Smoke from cigars, pipes and quirlies hung in the air like a light fog. His back ached from playing most of the night. With his back to the wall because he didn’t like anyone behind him, he sat at a table near a window for the light. He picked up the five cards dealt to him. Two aces, a jack, a ten and a queen. He kept the aces and threw the other three cards away into the center of the table next to the pot.

Eight poker tables and one roulette table, the only one west of Phoenix in the Arizona Territory, covered most of the floor. At each poker table sat six men.

The dealer ran his hand in the air around the table. Bets down. He looked at Brodie. Cards?

Three.

Brodie picked up the new cards and looked at them. "A jack, a deuce, and an ace. Now he had three of a kind. He threw in a dollar.

The man to the left, John Simms, threw his cards in the middle of the table, next to the pot. I’m out.

The next player, Sam Evans, added his cards on top of John’s.

The third man, Amos Dickens, bet a dollar and threw it in the middle. Call.

The dealer for this hand, Jubal Ames, sat on Brodie’s right. Dealer takes two and raises. He threw two dollars into the pot in the center of the table.

Brodie pushed forward his last dollar into the pot. Call. If he lost this, he’d be totally broke and he couldn’t borrow anymore. He would have played most of the night for nothing. He closed his eyes for a moment and berated himself. He would be into Flannery for over nine-hundred dollars and he had no way, except poker, to repay it. He had to win. With more than one-hundred dollars in the pot, he’d have some money to pay for the wedding ring for his new bride tomorrow and to play again.

Amos also called.

Jubal threw down his cards, face up. Two pair. Queens and jacks. He reached for the pot.

Wait a minute, said Amos. I got kings and twos. I win.

Wrong, said Brodie. Read’em and weep, boys. Three aces. He dragged the pot to him. Elation filled him. Just a few more hands like this one and he could pay Flannery off. He said a silent prayer that his luck continue.

The din of the talking and shouting from the other tables made hearing the big man’s approach impossible. A shadow fell over the table and a deep voice sounded from beside him. That’s the last game for you, Mr. Campbell. Mr. Flannery wants to see you.

Brodie looked up to see Joey, Flannery’s right-hand man. The tall, black-haired man’s nose had obviously been broken several times, and he appeared to be made of solid muscle. He was not as tall as Brodie’s six feet, two inches, but he looked to be just as muscular. Brodie could probably take him in a fair fight, but this man would never fight fair.

Picking up his winnings, Brodie shoved the money into the pocket of his pants and then stood. Okay. Let’s go. He knew Jake would want his money, but he couldn’t give him his winnings. He was barely back to even for the night and he still had to pay Ross for the wedding ring for tomorrow.

Joey led him toward the office in the back of the saloon. He opened the door. After you.

Brodie walked into the office. The room was small, with his mahogany desk and padded leather chair taking up most of the space.

Joey entered behind him and closed the door.

Brodie wasn’t happy being in such an enclosed space where the desk took up most of the room.

Jake Flannery pointed to the chair in front of the desk. Sit.

Brodie sat in the hard, wooden, slat back chair. What can I do for you, Jake?

Flannery gazed at him through narrowed brown eyes. His slicked back brown hair and a thin mustache made him look sinister. He wore a white shirt with black suspenders. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up, so they just covered his elbows as he leaned on the desk, and steepled his fingers. It’s time you paid me the money you owe me. I’ve carried you long enough. You owe me nine-hundred dollars.

I don’t have that kind of money, you know that.

Ah, but you own a big, beautiful ranch and you’ve got four brothers you can borrow from. Or, you could sell me a part of the ranch.

Flannery getting his greedy hands on even a sliver of the ranch?

Never. With his fists clenched, Brodie stood.

Joey gave him a one-two punch in the stomach.

Brodie doubled over in pain.

Flannery sat back in his chair. Wouldn’t want to mess up your pretty face…this time. You got a month. After that, I’ll have Joey, here, put your nose by your ear. Got it?

Brodie straightened and tucked an arm over his stomach. Yeah, I got it.

Get out of here.

Joey opened the door and held it.

Brodie went through and glared at Joey.

The man looked poised to hit him again if Flannery gave him a signal.

The door slammed behind him.

He winced in pain. This is so bad. Where will I get $900 in a month? I can’t let this gambling habit continue. It’s threatening the ranch, and that is unforgivable.

June 1880, Yuma Territorial Prison

Lottie stood next to her twin sister, Maisie, in the sweltering heat of the warden’s office. Flies banged against the windows, trying to escape. She kept waving her hand around her head as one landed on her, probably to rest before trying again to leave.

She watched as Warden Ezra Dean sat behind his plain wooden desk and eyed each woman before him. He was an average height man, with graying brown hair, brown eyes and spectacles that were forever slipping to the end of his nose and which he was always pushing back up. He asked them if they wanted to become mail-order brides and get their sentences shortened by half.

Fiona, Gwen and Maisie all agreed.

It’s your turn, Lottie. What say you? Are you willing to become a mail-order bride? asked the warden again.

Yes, most definitely. She grasped her sister’s hand, squeezing it tight. If Maisie is going, so am I.

Lottie would never leave Maisie willingly. She hated her father for selling Maisie to Donald Kunkle. The man abused her sister, and there was nothing that Lottie could do about it. She hated her father for putting money before family by selling Maisie. Then he kept Lottie in line by saying lewd things to her. Scaring her with his implied suggestions. She could never love a man who put money before family.

The only good thing her father did for her was teach her to play poker and she was better than good at it. She was the best because she played very well, and the men at the table tended not to take her seriously because she was a woman. At least until she’d taken their money.

Very good. Last, but not least, what about you, Ivy?

The tall, brown-haired woman was the strongest of them. She was not fat, but was mostly muscle. The men often made a mistake in thinking she was fat and therefore weak. It was stupid, but they did it and learned a thing or two at the end of her fist. Yes, I’m going. I’d die here without my friends.

The warden smiled. I thought you all might volunteer for this program. Your sentences will be commuted to time served, but if you run away from your husbands, I will put you back in prison. No trial. Nothing. Directly back here to finish your sentence. He smiled again. You were chosen because even though you robbed a bank, you did so without firing a shot. You didn’t kill or injure anyone. That has never happened before.

Lottie squeezed Maisie’s hand again. Thank you for the opportunity, Warden. We won’t disappoint you.

Glad to hear it. Now, you’ll find new clothes, a reticule with ten dollars, a hat and coat in your cells. Here are the tickets for the stage from Yuma to Prescott. He handed them to Fiona. The prison stage, not the prisoner wagon, will take you into Yuma to catch the Arizona and California Stage Company stage.

Frowning, Lottie saw from their furrowed brows and biting their lips that the other women still had questions, too. Warden, who are we marrying? And where are we going?

The warden chuckled. Forgive me, but it’s a little ironic. You’re marrying the Campbell brothers of…Prescott.

Prescott! But, but… Lottie felt like she got a gut punch. All the women were wide eyed and openmouthed.

Prescott was the location of the bank they robbed and, since the loot was never recovered, the women definitely wouldn’t be welcomed there. However, since that was also where the money remained hidden, the money was still there. Going to Prescott would make it easier to get the loot.

Yes, Prescott. Your husbands work a large ranch to the north that they jointly own. They are aware of why you were in prison and the reason for letting you take part in this program.

Thanks, Warden, for answering my questions, said Lottie.

He smiled and steepled his fingers. You’re welcome. You ladies have earned it. Never a complaint, and always thinking of ways to make the prison better for everyone. I hope you can continue that tradition in your new homes. Now, go change clothes and pack your carpetbags. The prison stagecoach is waiting.

All the women hurried from the room and back to their cell. There, they found dresses, skirts, blouses, undergarments, everything including new half-boots.

They changed with all speed. Some into their new dresses, as Lottie preferred, and some into the skirt and a blouse. Being in the prison garb for almost three years made these clothes seem like gowns for a ball. She remembered having one burgundy silk dress for her gambling forays in Phoenix. It was beautiful, with a low neckline and fitted to her body like a glove. Nothing like what she wore for every