Desperate Lola (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 2) Read online

  Desperate Lola

  The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek

  Carré White

  Love Lust Story

  Contents

  Copyright

  Also by Carré White

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Preview of Shameful Celia

  Also by Carré White

  Copyright © 2014, 2016 Carré White

  All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition

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  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  v1.01

  Also by Carré White

  The Mail Order Brides of Book Creek

  Wretched Chastity

  Desperate Lola

  Shameful Celia

  Spoiled Evelyn

  Chapter 1

  Boot Creek, New Mexico, 1881

  I’d had plenty of time to think about things on the train from Kansas on the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway system. Having traveled from Richmond, Virginia, I had been on several trains and a steamer across a river in Missouri. There were still several hours’ worth of travel ahead of me, and, to pass the time, I had reached inside my traveling bag to retrieve a bundle of letters. My husband-to-be had written these to me, and it brought me a measure of comfort to read them over and over.

  My dearest Lola,

  I am possibly the luckiest man in the west, now that you have agreed to marry me. I eagerly await your arrival, and I do hope you have a safe and pleasant journey. The servants have prepared the house and the gardens for your particular use. Ladies seem to enjoy the parlor and their bedroom a great deal. My late wife was fond of the garden, but I must confess, I have let weeds overrun a good portion of it. Once you agreed to marry me, I remedied this by hiring several men who have restored it to its former splendor.

  I sighed, imagining how finely appointed this house must be. From what I had been told, The Kelly Ranch encompassed hundreds of miles of prime grazing land with nearly four thousand head of cattle. My husband-to-be was a rich man, someone who came highly recommended by Mrs. Doris Hershey, the wife of Mayor Hershey of Boot Creek. I had responded to her ad in the local paper, realizing it was my one chance to free myself from a situation that had grown intolerable.

  My mother, having remarried after my pa died, had chosen a man by the name of Mark Mellon. He had seemed like the perfect husband, taking care of the house, while filling the void in my mother’s life that pa’s death had created. However, whenever my mother was in town or helping a friend, he would seek me out, which I found disturbing. Once, after he had been drinking, he accosted me in my bedroom, nearly forcing himself on me. I was far too scared to reveal this to mother, worried such knowledge would shatter her happiness. I had prayed for an answer, asking God to guide me towards safety. I had prayed for help as well, sometimes begging God to protect me, as I did not feel safe in my own home. After seeing the ad for a mail order bride out west, I had answered it, choosing marriage to a stranger as the solution.

  I am a simple man at heart, Lola. I want nothing more than a wife and a happy home and children. My son, as you remember from an earlier letter, passed on quite young, and my late wife was unable to have children after. It is imperative that I have an heir to pass my fortune to and someone who will see to the business. You expressed a desire to have children and to raise them in the Christian faith, which is my goal as well. We seem well-suited in this regard. Being a simple man, my success is ironic. Despite the Lincoln County War and its aftermath, I have continued to prosper, although I am careful about whom I trust and whom I employ on my ranch. There have been instances of thievery and discord here in Boot Creek, but there is risk with any business, I am afraid. This should not make you uneasy, my dear. I employ dozens of men in all capacities to see to my welfare, and this will extend to you, of course.

  My stepfather worked in the lumber business, being part owner of a store in Virginia. We were not as poor as most, but the possibility of great wealth had always been out of our reach. The idea that I would marry someone as successful as Jack Kelly appealed to my feminine sensibilities and my desire for all the pretty things I could never afford. I knew marrying for love would not be possible, because I was certain Mr. Kelly and I would never find ourselves in such a predicament, but having dresses and servants to see to my every need would more than make up for that lack. I had lists of all the things I planned to buy, dreaming of choosing expensive fabrics and patterns from the dressmakers in town.

  I do hope you may see me in more than a friendly manner, Lola. Being considerably older than you, I am aware of the challenges we will face. I am hopeful you and I will find some common ground. I am not an unreasonable man, and I certainly do not plan to press you on the issue of motherhood right away, but I do expect children. This will require a level of intimacy, I am afraid. I know you said you were ready to—

  My seat suddenly shook violently, while the running gear of the train screeched, the sound nearly earsplitting. The couple that sat before me rocked back and forth, while a chorus of voices rang out. Black smoke drifted before the window of the Parlor car, which sported large windows and oversized seating. My husband-to-be had spared no expense in my travel, arranging for the best hotels along the way. Looking out the window at the barren landscape—prairie grasses, scraggly trees, and juniper shrubs—it became apparent that the train had begun to slow.

  “There’s something the matter, Ernest,” said the woman in the next chair. “This isn’t right. We’re nowhere near the station.”

  “I’ll ask the porter, my dear.” He waved at the man standing at the head of our car, but his attention remained fixed out the window. He seemed puzzled as well about what had just occurred. “Good man!” He glanced our way. “What’s amiss?”

  “We’re stopping.” He hurried down the aisle; his black bowtie nestled against a crisp white shirt. “I’m sure it’s just an obstruction on the track. Once it’s cleared, we’ll be on our way.”

  “You don’t think we’re being robbed, do you?” The wife’s eyes had widened in concern. “I’m wearing mother’s favorite pearl broach. I certainly don’t want to see it stolen.”

  “Don't make yourself uneasy, Anne. I’m sure it’s just a mechanical issue.” He stood, throwing down the sash, while gazing out the window. “I don’t see any bandits.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” said another porter. “Please remain seated.” He bustled down the aisle. “We’ll be on our way shortly.”

  I
tucked the letter I had been reading in my bag, staring out the window at nothing but sparse grass and shrubs. I assumed we had arrived in the New Mexico Territory, but I could not be certain. We had been told to remain seated, but several men had opened windows, leaning out to have a better look.

  “There’s people out there,” said a man across the way. “Looks like the engineer. Might be a couple of engineers. I wonder if the train has malfunctioned?”

  “I’m sure they can fix it,” said another man. “We certainly don’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, now do we?”

  I tried not to worry on the matter, staying in my seat as instructed. It wasn’t until another porter approached, that I reached out to stop him. “Sir. What’s happening?”

  “There’s somethin’ wrong with the engine. I …” he looked furtive, “think we might have to wait until help arrives.”

  The man behind me had overheard that. “What say you? Are you telling me we’re stranded here?”

  Having spoken those words loudly, everyone began to talk at the same time. Pandemonium erupted, as people sprang from their seats demanding answers of the porter, who appeared overwhelmed.

  “Oh, this is not good,” said the woman across from me. “I wonder how long we’ll have to wait?”

  My fiancé, Jack Kelly, awaited my arrival in Lamy, which was south of Santa Fe. I assumed he would realize there had been an issue with the train when I did not arrive on time. I had sent a telegraph from the station in Kansas, telling him when to expect me. It was unfortunate that I might be late, but we had waited months to see one another. What difference did another day make?

  “Might we disembark?” asked another man. “If we’re not moving, then we should be able to walk around at least.”

  Angry travelers, who demanded information, had set upon the porter. He said, “Yes, you can get off. I’m sorry about the delay. I have no further information for you. I’m sorry.” Looking frazzled, he scurried away, before anyone could stop him for more questions.

  I got to my feet, smoothing out the wrinkles from my skirt, which had a bustle in the back. The deep green fabric was my favorite, the color reminding me of a forest at sunset. The woman across the way smiled at me. I had boldly traveled alone, although my ticket had been purchased under my soon to be married name of Mrs. Kelly. This would be the truth soon enough, so that was how I had introduced myself to everyone I had spoken with.

  “Isn’t this dreadful, Mrs. Kelly?” asked the woman.

  “It is. I’m sure they’ll sort it out soon enough.” I stood by the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might be happening. “I do hope we’re moving soon. My husband is waiting for me.” I caught sight of my face in the reflection. Curly locks of blonde hair framed white, unblemished skin. I wound damp hair around strips of cloth each night, creating the ringlets by morning. “There are many people outside now. They’re passengers, from the looks of it.” I glimpsed men, women, and children. “Is everyone getting off?” That thought worried me.

  A woman passed us in the aisle, carrying a bag. “We’ll be stuck here a while, from the looks of it,” she muttered.

  “Well, at least we’re not being robbed.”

  “I suppose they’re stretching their legs until we’re on our way again,” said the woman’s husband. “Why don’t we join them, my dear?” He held out his hand. “No sense in sitting here when we can have a little walk.”

  “All right.”

  I decided to join them, not wanting to be left alone on the train. Once outside, children ran around, while passengers walked dogs and chatted amongst themselves. Women carried parasols to protect themselves from the heat of the sun. There seemed to be no sense of urgency in our delay, people readily accepting the train had succumbed to mechanical failure. Engineers had gathered, opening up panels near the front and working to fix whatever the issue was.

  The afternoon wasted away in this manner, the train remaining stationary into evening, while the passengers did what they could to entertain themselves. Some lit campfires and shared brandy and stories, while others sat onboard and read or slept. Those lucky enough to travel in the sleeping car could rest comfortably all night. I tried to sleep in the chair, as it reclined slightly, although a crying baby and talking woke me several times.

  By morning, I had begun to worry, as had many others. The disgruntled chatter of the passengers had grown louder and patience had begun to wear thin. An approaching porter strolled down the aisle towards me. “Sir. When will we be on our way?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kelly. They’re doing everything they can. They’re sending another train soon to transport everyone back to Santa Fe.”

  “Oh, no.” My heart sank. “I’m expected in Lamy.”

  “You can take another train. We do apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “How close are we to Lamy?”

  “Twenty miles.”

  “That’s not so far away.”

  “It’s too far to walk without a horse and water.”

  Being July, it had been swelteringly hot, even in the train with the windows open. “Oh goodness gracious.” I sighed unhappily. My fiancé would be worried now because I had not arrived on time.

  “Please try to relax, Mrs. Kelly. Everything will be fine.”

  Slumping in the chair, I stared at the seat before me, not really seeing it. Although we were given lemonade and other assorted drinks, my belly rumbled with hunger. The dining car had run out of food last night, and most of the travelers had not eaten breakfast, myself included. Children fussed and babies cried, while it felt as if my skin melted in the heat. The many layers of clothing I wore did not help the matter. Little did I know it would be four long hours before a solution presented itself.

  “Riders come!” someone shouted. “It’s either help or bandits!”

  “Oh, I hope it’s not the latter,” said the woman across from me. “I don’t think I can tolerate anything other than a rescue. This ordeal has been quite enough as it is.”

  I stared out the window at a group of riders approaching, the hooves of their horses kicking up a fair amount of dust. “They don’t look like bandits.”

  “Are they wearing bandanas?” asked the woman.

  “Yes.”

  She gasped. “Bandits!”

  “They’re around their necks, Mrs. Lancaster. You needn’t worry.”

  “Gracious be, you gave me a fright.” Her hand remained by her throat.

  “I hope it’s men from the railways come to help us,” said Mr. Lancaster.

  “I wish something would happen,” said another woman. “I sure am tired of this.”

  From my vantage point, I watched the approaching men; the ones out front had already dismounted. They spoke to the conductor and several porters, who pointed at our car. I assumed they were going to bring us news of some sort. This was hardly anything to be concerned about. Sitting again, I gazed at the wood paneled walls, while yawning. If I had to spend one more night in this chair, I would be in an intolerably bad mood.

  “Is there a Mrs. Kelly onboard?” asked a man in a wide-brimmed hat. He stood within the doorway at the head of the car. “Mrs. Kelly?”

  I sat up. “Yes?”

  “I’m Chuck Brittle. I’ve been sent to get you, ma’am.”

  “Who are you?”

  He was lean and tall, with a handsome, yet weathered, face. “I work for Mr. Kelly. I’ve been sent to escort you to him.”

  “Where is my … my … husband?”

  “He was waiting for you in Lamy, but you never made it. I’ll take you straight to The Kelly Ranch.”

  I would never just go off with a complete stranger. “Mr. Kelly made no mention of someone by your name. I think I’ll wait right here for the other train. I’ll meet my husband in a day.”

  He reached into his pocket, withdrawing a folded piece of paper. “Here you go.”

  I took it. “What is this?”

  “A note for you.”

  Op
ening the paper, I recognized the handwriting at once.

  Lola,

  Don’t be alarmed, my dear. I’ve sent Mr. Brittle to retrieve you. He’s my ranch manager. You’re in good hands.

  Yours,

  Jack Kelly

  I glanced at Chuck Brittle. “Well, I guess you’re escorting me after all.”

  He grinned, flashing straight, white teeth. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Chapter 2

  Before I could leave with Mr. Brittle, I had to gather my things. He waited for me outside, managing two horses, one of which I assumed I would ride. In my pocket, I held a letter to my mother, which I had planned to mail in Lamy. It detailed my decision to leave home without telling anyone. I had not revealed the truth about Mark’s behavior, for fear of upsetting her further. I simply stated that I wished not to burden them any longer and that I planned to marry someone of substantial wealth. I had secured my own future, and I felt quite pleased with myself on that score.

  I approached Mrs. Lancaster. “I’m off now.”

  “Please travel safely, my dear.” She smiled, but she looked tired. “I do wish we were going too, but we can wait for the relief train. What an ordeal.”

  “I’ve a letter I meant to send, but I wasn’t able. Would you be kind enough to do it for me?”

  “Yes, of course.” She took the envelope from my hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s so dreadfully hot. How will you manage out there?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Brittle has water. He’s my husband’s man.”

  Her smile remained sympathetic and kind. “I see. I suppose things could be worse. This could’ve been a robbery. I must remember how lucky we are that it wasn’t.”

  “Yes, it’s good to look on the bright side of things. The Lord hasn’t forsaken us in our time of need. None of us are ill or starving.”