Mail Order Bride – Charlotte's Summer: Clean Sweet Western Cowboy Romance (Seasons Mail Order Brides Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Charlotte’s voice was caught in the back of her throat and it came out a little shaky, even to her own ears. “I can’t marry Mr. Graynger. Please find a way to help me.”
“Let’s make a start on these letters immediately and try to find you a good and decent husband. As long as my feet are planted on this earth there’s no chance a pretty little thing like you will end up with the horror that is Clem Graynger. I’ve heard all sorts of nasty things about the man and I wouldn’t put it past him to be in cahoots with the devil himself. It might be unorthodox, pursuing a marriage by correspondence and all, but it’s nothing to be sneered at. The sooner you leave Seattle, the better. That way he won’t have a claim on you. Your birthday is just a few weeks away, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mrs. Fredrick rifled through the letters then, dividing them up into even piles for each of the girls to read through. She rubbed her hands together as they set about tearing open the envelopes. Never had she expected such an enthusiastic response to her classified. The few extra dollars she’d earn for her time and effort in connecting grooms with their prospective brides was sure to buy her that set of expensive new curtains she’d had her eye on. She could just picture them now, fluttering softly in the warm breeze above her kitchen sink and she couldn’t be happier. And when Mrs. Fredrick was happy, so was everybody else.
Charlotte could feel she was one step closer to freedom with every letter she read and although the thought of marrying a man she knew nothing about terrified her, she was ready to risk it all if it meant escaping Saint Anne’s.
She was afraid though.
It was a risky move by anyone’s standards. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a handful of her father’s wise words right now. Charlotte smiled softly to herself then as she rifled through the mail. She knew what he’d say. She could practically hear his deep voice whispering in her ears.
Don ’ t be afraid to go out on a limb, that ’ s where the fruit is.
After a good thirty minutes, Charlotte and Beth had finally narrowed it down to three prospective grooms. The first, Beth’s favorite, was a logger from Salem, Oregon. Peter Jolsen needed a wife to run his home while he was away for long stretches at a time transporting lumber from the forest to the timber mills.
But there were some negatives. His penmanship was wishy-washy and he waffled on with useless information about the strength of his horses and a long-winded tale of a disastrous rabbit casserole.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Beth?”
Beth shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll see to that pesky gate while you continue your appraisal?”
Charlotte sighed. Beth was clearly not as picky as Charlotte. She smiled as her best friend left her to her ruminations.
The second prospect’s letter was from William Carter, a gold-miner from some place far up in the hills that Charlotte had never heard of before. But he wrote with so much passion for his profession that Charlotte feared there would be no place left in his heart for her. On paper he seemed perfectly nice and would undoubtedly make someone a fine husband one day. But it wasn’t going to be Charlotte.
The third gentleman went by the name of Thomas Ackerman.
He had never been married, had no children and worked a large property just south of Conrad, Montana. He described himself as twenty-three years old, tall, fair, healthy and looking for a wife to help him care for the house and tend to the animals. He lived alone on the property, but it wasn’t so far out of town that he ever felt isolated.
His handwriting was neat and tidy, and Charlotte deemed him to be an educated man by the capable way he spoke. She read the entire letter through once more. It finished off simply…
I would be pleased to hear from you,
Thomas.
Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how straight to the point
“Let’s make a start on these letters immediately and try to find you a good and decent husband. As long as my feet are planted on this earth there’s no chance a pretty little thing like you will end up with the horror that is Clem Graynger. I’ve heard all sorts of nasty things about the man and I wouldn’t put it past him to be in cahoots with the devil himself. It might be unorthodox, pursuing a marriage by correspondence and all, but it’s nothing to be sneered at. The sooner you leave Seattle, the better. That way he won’t have a claim on you. Your birthday is just a few weeks away, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mrs. Fredrick rifled through the letters then, dividing them up into even piles for each of the girls to read through. She rubbed her hands together as they set about tearing open the envelopes. Never had she expected such an enthusiastic response to her classified. The few extra dollars she’d earn for her time and effort in connecting grooms with their prospective brides was sure to buy her that set of expensive new curtains she’d had her eye on. She could just picture them now, fluttering softly in the warm breeze above her kitchen sink and she couldn’t be happier. And when Mrs. Fredrick was happy, so was everybody else.
Charlotte could feel she was one step closer to freedom with every letter she read and although the thought of marrying a man she knew nothing about terrified her, she was ready to risk it all if it meant escaping Saint Anne’s.
She was afraid though.
It was a risky move by anyone’s standards. She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for a handful of her father’s wise words right now. Charlotte smiled softly to herself then as she rifled through the mail. She knew what he’d say. She could practically hear his deep voice whispering in her ears.
Don ’ t be afraid to go out on a limb, that ’ s where the fruit is.
After a good thirty minutes, Charlotte and Beth had finally narrowed it down to three prospective grooms. The first, Beth’s favorite, was a logger from Salem, Oregon. Peter Jolsen needed a wife to run his home while he was away for long stretches at a time transporting lumber from the forest to the timber mills.
But there were some negatives. His penmanship was wishy-washy and he waffled on with useless information about the strength of his horses and a long-winded tale of a disastrous rabbit casserole.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Beth?”
Beth shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll see to that pesky gate while you continue your appraisal?”
Charlotte sighed. Beth was clearly not as picky as Charlotte. She smiled as her best friend left her to her ruminations.
The second prospect’s letter was from William Carter, a gold-miner from some place far up in the hills that Charlotte had never heard of before. But he wrote with so much passion for his profession that Charlotte feared there would be no place left in his heart for her. On paper he seemed perfectly nice and would undoubtedly make someone a fine husband one day. But it wasn’t going to be Charlotte.
The third gentleman went by the name of Thomas Ackerman.
He had never been married, had no children and worked a large property just south of Conrad, Montana. He described himself as twenty-three years old, tall, fair, healthy and looking for a wife to help him care for the house and tend to the animals. He lived alone on the property, but it wasn’t so far out of town that he ever felt isolated.
His handwriting was neat and tidy, and Charlotte deemed him to be an educated man by the capable way he spoke. She read the entire letter through once more. It finished off simply…
I would be pleased to hear from you,
Thomas.
Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how straight to the point
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