The Hand-me-down Mail Order Bride by Beverly Bernard

Author:Beverly Bernard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance western, mail order bride, christian romance, sweet romance, gold rush, old west, clean and wholesome
Publisher: Beverly Bernard
Published: 2017-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHRISTMAS CAME AND went, and the streets of Poppy Valley became rutted and coarse as horses’ hooves melted the snow and turned the dirt to mud. Business was slow at the livery, and Bart found himself with little to do once he’d fed and watered the horses and mucked out their stalls. There were few visitors to the small town, and all but the most diligent miners had traded their picks and shovels for pints of beer and games of poker at the Golden Nugget.

Flurries of snow blew against Bart’s face as he made his way from the livery to the glowing lights of the saloon. He was hungry, and it was easier to take his evening meal at the saloon than to cook and clean up for himself. The establishment was the busiest place in town, he thought, as he was met with the sound of laughter and the music of the player piano in the corner.

Amelia gave him a small wave and pointed to an open stool at the bar. He sat down, and she brought him a bowl of soup and three fluffy biscuits with butter. He thanked her and watched as she hurried among the tables filled with men, her skirts swirling and curls bobbing as she refilled whiskey glasses and avoided the groping hands of a few patrons who had imbibed a bit too much.

He concentrated on his meal and shut out the cacophony of voices. He hadn’t seen Ada in a few days, and he wondered if she was ill. He had grown used to seeing her in the barn brushing Daisy or working with the spunky Samson. When she wasn’t there, her absence was palpable. Lost in thought, he jumped when Amelia tapped him on the shoulder.

“He’s here,” she whispered in Bart’s ear.

“Who’s here?”

“Him,” Amelia hissed, “Oliver Betts.”

Bart’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? Where?” He craned his neck to see around her.

“Shhh! Don’t look,” she said. “I think that’s him over at the table next to the piano. Dark hair, cut short. He’s playing poker with some working men, but you can tell he’s a dandy.”

He had to agree. The man looked more like a businessman than a miner or rancher. He wore a spotless white shirt with a black tie, and his hands were smooth and soft, the nails clean.

“Why do you think it’s him?” Bart asked.

“I heard one of the men call him by his name, Betts.”

“He can’t be the only Betts in all of California.”

“Probably not,” Amelia agreed, “but I heard him mention Placerville. I’ve never seen him in here before.”

Bart’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe I should play myself a hand of poker.”

“Maybe you should,” Amelia said. “I’ll bring you a round of whiskey for the table.”

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