Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Happy Ending at 83%

  Half Title

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thank you!

  Book Club Questions

  About the Author

  Books by Heather Horrocks

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Excerpt: Old Money

  Excerpt: Bah, Humbug!

  Excerpt: Deck the Malls

  Excerpt: Once in a Blue Moon by Diane Darcy

  Thanks again.

  VIOLET

  Bride of North Dakota

  Heather Horrocks

  American Mail-Order Bride Series

  Description: Violet: Bride of North Dakota

  This is a stand-alone book by USA Today bestselling author Heather Horrocks that is also 39th in the unprecedented American Mail-Order Bride Series—50 states, 50 mail-order brides.

  Violet Keating is thrilled to be a mail-order bride—until she arrives in North Dakota and discovers she has a runaway groom!

  Feeling protective of her, confirmed bachelor Daniel Lund vows to help this jilted beauty find another husband—until he realizes he’d like to change his own status from “confirmed” to “eligible.”

  Can a man who’s given up on love and a jilted mail-order bride find magic under the northern lights?

  Dedicated to . . .

  Kirsten Osbourne for inviting me into this awesome series, motivating me, and opening my eyes to the many possibilities.

  And to every woman who dares to take a risk to follow her heart.

  THE HAPPY ENDING IS AT ABOUT 83% ~ ENJOY!

  In case you’re like me and want to know how close you are to the end of a book, and because there are pages that come after the book ends (excerpts, copyright, about the author, and—in some boxed sets—more novellas), I just want to let you know that ‘The End’ of the book is at approximately 83%. Enjoy.

  NEW RELEASES NEWSLETTER ~ BE THE FIRST TO KNOW & RECEIVE A FREE STORY!

  To learn about new releases by Heather Horrocks or contact the author, visit www.BooksByHeatherHorrocks.com.

  IF YOU ENJOYED READING THIS BOOK, THERE ARE 49 MORE IN THE SERIES!

  Find out about the rest of the American Mail-Order Brides here. Also click on the link in the first paragraph on that page to read the first ten pages of the prequel free (or click here for the free prequel).

  DISCOVER HEATHER’S OTHER BOOKS.

  Heather Horrocks has written numerous books. If you’re new to her writing, go see what else she’s written—funny mysteries and romantic comedies. Learn all about them at www.BooksByHeatherHorrocks.com. You can find them for sale at the major online booksellers.

  Violet

  Bride of North Dakota

  To the woman of my dreams...

  I am searching for my soul mate, a woman with whom to share my life. Though I am but twenty-three, I have ample funds to take on the support and care of a wife. I am currently preparing my home more to the liking of the refined woman I seek. I want someone who can serve as hostess to my parties, who reads and likes to discuss interesting topics, and who is pleasing to the eye (I hope it will ease your mind somewhat that I have been told on numerous occasions that I am the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome.). I have not been married before nor do I have any children, yet I am ready now to begin a family of my own—of our own. I look forward to meeting you.

  Nathaniel James Evans of Minot, North Dakota

  (Advertisement placed in the Grooms’ Gazette on September 5, 1890)

  Lawrence, Massachusetts

  October 11, 1890

  “LOOK—THEY’RE LOADING YOUR BAG!”

  Violet Keating watched as the sum total of her possessions was tossed into the baggage car of the train. Having worked as a seamstress for the past three years, she’d made the bag as pretty as she could, with a floral pattern of blues and greens and purples that evoked optimism to her. And it seemed quite pathetic that everything she owned fit into one lonely bag, even if that bag was a brightly colored one.

  “There could only be two like it in the world.” She’d made one for Rachel West, too, of the same material. She turned back to her dear friend.

  They had other friends, mostly coworkers at the now-burned-out Brown Textile Mill. Laurel, Cora, and Darby had already left on their own frightening, exciting adventures. She worried especially for Darby, for her groom specifically requested no Scotswomen, and Darby’s Scottish brogue tended to escape when her temper flared—a fairly frequent occurrence.

  It had been hard enough to say goodbye to the others, but Rachel was not only her roommate, she had become Violet’s family. How could she possibly say farewell to her and be alone in the world again? Who knew how long it would be before they would see each other again. Blinking back tears, she promised, “I’ll write you often and tell you all about my new life—and my new husband.”

  “And I will write you back.” Her dearest friend pulled her into a fierce hug. “Are you sure about this, Violet? North Dakota is so far away—much farther than New Hampshire.”

  Violet clung to her friend. “I’m no more sure than you are. But we both have to move on with our lives. We already know this is the best decision.” The fire at the factory where they’d worked had left them with very few choices, but now she was scared to take the next step. “New Hampshire will be as foreign to you as North Dakota is to me. And we both have wonderful men waiting for us.”

  They released each other and smiled. It was a bittersweet moment she would remember forever.

  Rachel said, “I’m still amazed I let you talk me into it.”

  “It surprised me, as well.” A surge of excitement flowed through Violet. “In mere days, you’ll meet your Thomas and I’ll meet my James. And our new lives will begin.”

  Rachel shrugged. “You are such a romantic. I still would prefer a job to a marriage—but it can’t be helped.”

  “Surely you will fall in love once you arrive in New Hampshire. And I do not believe he will be angry with you for long simply because you are so beautiful and he asked for a homely bride.”

  “Look at my unruly red hair, and my freckles, and my skinny frame,” Rachel’s tone teased. “I am nothing if not homely. Thomas and I will get along swimmingly.”

  “I know you will.” Violet sighed. “I will miss you, Rachel. You are truly my sister.”

  “And I will miss you, dear friend.”

  The train whistle blew, and Violet’s heart tapped against her chest quickly.

  Rachel touched her arm. “It is time for you to take flight.”

  “I think flight is more frightening when it comes time to actually flap your wings and leap off the branch.” She sighed. “Just think. The next time we meet—when we exchange our first letters even—we will both be wed.” Violet smiled and held out her left hand. “All our dreams will have come true.”

  Rachel drew in a short breath and nodded.

  The train whistle sounded again, insistently, and the conductor called out, “All aboard!”

  She
hugged Rachel once again. “I really must go.”

  “We will see each other again,” Rachel assured her.

  Violet wasn’t sure it was true. Her friend was simply acting like a mama bird, encouraging her, pushing her from the nest into the big world outside.

  She wondered if baby birds were as scared as she was at this moment, perched on the edge of the nest, their little feet clinging to the only safety they’d ever known.

  And then, struck with anxiety, wondering if she was doing the right thing, her breathing quickening, she forced herself to draw in a deep breath to calm herself and climbed aboard the train, turning to wave to her friend once more before stepping inside and finding her seat.

  The car was only two-thirds full, so the seat next to hers was empty.

  Soon enough, the train had lurched a few times and then began to pick up speed. She watched her friend and the station until they were out of sight.

  Fear nipped at her, and she opened her beaded reticule and pulled out the letter that had changed her life. Perhaps if she read his letter again, she could remind herself why she was on this train and she would calm down.

  She unfolded the paper, smoothing it carefully. And read it again in full, from “Dear Miss Keating, I was delighted to receive your correspondence. I believe in true love and—though I have received many responses to my advertisement—I did not feel the stirrings of it until I read your sweet letter” to the sweet ending of “So you will become Mrs. James Evans. Yours faithfully and forever, James Evans.”

  Violet Evans—that had a nice sound to it. And Mrs. James Evans sounded even better.

  The man was twenty-three, handsome, wealthy—and thrilled to be marrying her. What more could a woman want?

  The thought sent shivers up her spine.

  By this time next Wednesday—four long days from today—she would indeed be Mrs. James Evans.

  She hoped he was as honorable of a man as his words made him sound.

  Dear Mr. Evans,

  I am also young (nineteen). I love to read and discuss things more interesting than the weather (which I understand to be quite cold in Minot... actually, I don’t even know how to pronounce Minot). It will be a relief to be free to speak my mind in our conversations. Though I have been working as a seamstress at a factory since the death of my parents, I was raised in a more elegant manner and helped my mother on many occasions hostess their parties. I am an only child and so was included in all of their adult outings and entertainments. I have no family now, but I feel a deep desire to create one with you. I look forward to Christmas decorations on the hearth, picnics in the summer, and sitting beside you in church. I hesitate to say, but since you wondered... yes, I have been told I am pleasing to look upon. I am longing for a loving husband who will protect me and our future children—and you sound like such a man. I hope you will find me satisfactory and we can together create the family we both desire.

  Yours hopefully, Violet Keating, currently of Lawrence, Massachusetts

  (Letter mailed September 29, 1890)

  October 13, 1890

  Grand Forks, North Dakota

  Violet walked beside Mrs. Johnson, the passenger who had joined the train a day after Violet boarded. It was such a relief to be out of her seat after three-and-a-half days of travel! Each day the train stopped, but at whistlestops where they could do little more than stretch their legs. Today’s stop was at Grand Forks, North Dakota—a surprisingly large town with beautiful brick buildings reminiscent of those further east. She hadn’t expected that.

  The best thing about Grand Forks was the fact that it was only half a day’s travel to Minot. Violet would be meeting James by roughly five this afternoon.

  And the best thing about Mrs. Johnson was that the gray-and-brunette-haired grandmother had taken her under her wing.

  The older woman—Violet guessed her to be in her fifties—wore a simple dress of green that showed nearly as many wrinkles as did her own dark blue dress.

  This train stop was long enough that she and Mrs. Johnson had walked to a restaurant. Violet had chosen a simple meal of breads and cheeses, Mrs. Johnson a meat pie. Simple enough, but her belly was now full—and she had tucked some bread and cheese into her pocket to snack on later.

  As they strolled back toward the train station, a cool breeze making them pull their coats more securely around them, they passed an especially beautiful three-story building made of bricks and arches and elegance. Sitting on the corner, it outshone everything around it.

  “That is spectacular,” Violet said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up.

  “Look. There’s a sign that says it’s the Metropolitan Opera House.” Mrs. Johnson put a hand above her eyes, as well. “And my Horace said it will be opening soon, maybe even next month.”

  Several other people stood near them, also admiring the building. A man announced, “I read in the Grand Forks Herald that this has been dubbed the Marvel of the Northwest.”

  “I can certainly see why. It’s amazing.” Violet looked away with a shake of her head. “Will...” She paused and guessed at the pronunciation of Minot, continuing on with “Min-OUGHT have such splendors, as well?”

  The man laughed. “No, Miss. Grand Forks has been around since French explorers and fur trappers lived here in the last century. It’s much more grand than anything you’ll find in MY-Knot.”

  Violet smiled. Now she knew how the local North Dakotians said it. MY-Knot was prettier, anyway, and more symbolic—after all, she and James would be knotting a family together there.

  Mrs. Johnson took Violet’s arm, and they began walking back to the train. “Minot is a nice enough town, don’t you worry. Some folks just think longevity makes a town better.” Her voice was frosty. She had obviously taken the man’s words as an insult to her town.

  “How long has Minot been a town?”

  “Since my granddaughter Susannah was born, so that would have been four years ago. 1886. It sprung up overnight from a town of tents, like magic.” She shrugged. “So . . . people started calling it Magic City. We have over five thousand residents now, and that’s a respectable enough town.”

  “It is, indeed.”

  They walked in silence until they reached the station and climbed back inside the rail car, finding their seats and settling down for the last leg of the journey.

  Mrs. Johnson said, “Another town north of Minot actually moved south a mile and a half to meet up with the rail lines being built. That was in 1887.”

  Amazed, Violet asked, “People moved the entire town?”

  “They wanted the town to thrive and, for that, it had to be accessible to the trains.”

  “That’s amazing—and yet it’s not even the most fabulous thing I’ve encountered in the last few days. That would be the swirls of greens and blues in the sky outside the train windows last night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so stunningly beautiful. Hauntingly so.”

  “Ahh, yes.” Mrs. Johnson nodded. “I love the northern lights, too. We are blessed to see them so often here.”

  “I’m glad of that.” And she was. She hoped the house James was fixing up had at least one window through which she could watch the northern lights.

  From outside the car, the conductor’s voice called out, “All aboard!” and the train gave a couple of whistles. Then there was a lurch and the train began to move, faster and faster.

  Violet leaned back against the seat and found herself nodding off. She pulled herself back up straight but, after about the third time, when her head nearly rested on Mrs. Johnson’s shoulder, the older woman said softly, “Go ahead and lean on me and sleep, child. You’ll have enough to do when you wake.”

  And so Violet did.

  When she opened her eyes, she found that the sun had moved significantly and her neck was a little stiff.

  As she turned her head from side to side, the door at the end of the car opened, and the conductor walked up the aisle. Violet touched his sleeve
and he stopped. “Yes, Miss?”

  “I’m just wondering, how much time before we reach Minot?”

  He grinned. “Only half an hour or so.”

  “Thank you.”

  Violet’s heart picked up its pace and her mouth went dry. Thirty minutes until she met her groom! Her future husband! Her destiny!

  And, looking down at her rumpled dark blue dress, she realized she needed to go spruce herself up before they arrived. One should at least be tidy when meeting one’s destiny.

  She looked at Mrs. Johnson, who was smiling at her.

  “I’m going to freshen myself up.”

  The older woman nodded. “Good luck in that tiny room.”

  Violet made her way to the end of the car, conscious of eyes upon her, and opened the door to the small bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind her and stood in a tiny area that seemed to barely contain the wrinkled skirt of her dress.

  She stared at herself in the mirror—and sighed. She had certainly looked better. She was tired, and the smudges under her eyes proved it. Tendrils of strawberry blonde hair had come loose, and the hair on the right side of her head looked mashed from lying against Mrs. Johnson’s shoulder.

  She got to work. She brushed her hair as best she could, straightening the loose strands, and washed herself as best she could while wearing clothing. Then she applied a drop of perfume to her neck and both wrists.

  Oh, how she longed for a long, hot bath, and then a change of clothes.

  And not a brief bath in a washtub like she’d had in the boarding house—a long, luxurious soak in a tub such as she’d had in her father’s house, before he and Mother died and she’d been forced to move out—homeless, penniless, and family-less. Her father had meant to provide for her, but his unethical business partner had made sure there was nothing left for Violet to inherit.