Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12) (12 page)

Author’s Note

It is an honor to be part of the American Mail-Order Brides project. There are 45 participating authors, covering all 50 states (some wrote two books).

When I was asked to join in the fun, the states where I typically base my stories were already taken, so I looked at the list of available options.

North Carolina jumped out at me. You see, my paternal grandfather’s family came from North Carolina and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live there.

Because I’m also fascinated with the Biltmore Estate (and it is on my bucket list to see someday), I thought it would be fun to set the story in Asheville, where the Biltmore resides.

As I researched the setting for this story, I happened upon a few things that were immensely helpful.

One was a photo of the
Nottoway Plantation
in Louisiana. I loosely based Bramble Hall on this beautiful plantation. And yes, I added it to my list of places to visit.

The other extremely helpful thing I discovered was through the Library of Congress, I could download the
Asheville Daily Citizen
newspaper from 1890. This helped me glimpse into daily life in the town and provided the grounds for the mention of Dacey looking at the paper. There really was an ad for a furniture store offering undertaking services. I wonder if coffins were displayed next to the settees or end tables.

I also found myself frequently visiting
Explore Asheville’s
website.

And a thank you to Kandi B. for the fun suggestion of a
weeping beech tree
as a place for a romantic first kiss. Although Braxton and Dacey didn’t kiss beneath the branches of the tree, they sure came close to sharing their first kiss there.

For those of you who are
Pendleton Petticoats
fans, don’t you think it would be fun for one of Dacey and Braxton’s children to take over the ranch? Hmm…

If you aren’t familiar with the Pendleton Petticoats series, enjoy the first chapter from
Aundy
, book one in the series, included here in this book.

If you enjoyed reading this book, there are 49 more in the series! Find out about the rest of the
American Mail-Order Brides
today.

Dacey: Bride of North Carolina
is 12th in the 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series.

Thank you for reading
Dacey
.

If you liked this story and are willing to
write a review
, I’d be very appreciative. Reviews are so important to authors, and as you know, they are important to readers too. Thank you for considering it!

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Shanna’s Newsletter

It’s fast, easy, and only comes out when new books are released

or extremely exciting news happens.

Aundy
 
(Pendleton Petticoats Book 1)
-
   Desperate to better her situation, Aundy Thorsen agrees to leave behind her life in Chicago to fulfill a farmer’s request for a mail-order bride in Pendleton, Oregon.  When a tragic accident leaves her a widow soon after becoming a wife, Aundy takes on the challenge of learning how to manage a farm, even if it means her stubborn determination to succeed upsets a few of the neighbors.

   Born and raised on the family ranch, Garrett Nash loves life in the bustling community of Pendleton in 1899. When his neighbor passes away and leaves behind a plucky widow, Garrett takes on the role of her protector and guardian. His admiration for her tenacious spirit soon turns to something more. He just needs to convince the strong-willed Aundy to give love another try.

Turn the page for an exciting excerpt…

Chapter One

1899 - Eastern Oregon

Clickety-clak. Clickety-clak. Clickety-clak.

The sound of the train kept perfect time with the runaway thumping of Aundy Thorsen’s heart. Each beat took her closer to an uncertain future and she wondered what madness possessed her to make such a rash decision.

“Miss?” A gentle tap on her arm brought Aundy’s head around to look into the friendly face of the porter. “We’ll be in Pendleton soon. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Aundy said with a smile, nodding her head.  The porter had been helpful and kind, answering her many questions and making two rowdy salesmen intent on bothering her relocate to a different car.

Aware that she was asking for trouble traveling alone, Aundy figured since she was taller than most men were and not considered beautiful, she wouldn’t have any problems.

The persistent salesmen had been the only nuisance in an otherwise uneventful, yet exciting, adventure.

Growing up in Chicago, she’d never traveled any farther than her aunt’s stuffy home across town. Aundy tried to commit to memory each detail of her trip that would soon end in Pendleton, Oregon. Once there, she would marry Erik Erikson, a farmer who wanted a Norwegian bride.

Her betrothed, a man she had yet to meet, offered to travel to Chicago so they could wed there then make the trip to Pendleton as a married couple. Aundy assured him she would be safe traveling alone, although she was grateful for the train ticket and generous sum of money Erik provided to cover her expenses. Aundy had saved most of it, accustomed to living frugally and making each penny count.

However, she wished she’d purchased something to eat at their last stop. She willed the rumbling in her empty stomach to discontinue.

Suddenly overcome with the thought that she would soon meet Erik and become his bride, nerves replaced her hunger.

Although Erik wasn’t the first man to whom Aundy found herself engaged, he would be the first she married. Not willing to think about the affectionate glances and gentle smile of the playful boy who had stolen her heart, she instead focused her thoughts on the man awaiting her.

Six months ago, desperate to make a change in her life, Aundy happened upon a discarded newspaper and her gaze fastened on an advertisement for a mail-order bride.

Normally one to ignore such nonsense, Aundy felt drawn to the words written by a farmer named Erik Erikson.

Wanted: someone to build a future with and share in my dreams. Seeking loving wife with a tender heart and gentle spirit. Must be willing to move to Pendleton, Oregon. Hard worker, good cook, and Norwegian ancestry preferred. Farm experience helpful, but not essential. Outward beauty irrelevant. Please reply to…

Intrigued, Aundy ripped the advertisement out of the paper and carried it around in her pocket for two weeks, debating if she should send a reply. Finally, she sat down and composed a letter to Erik Erikson of Pendleton, Oregon, a place she’d never heard of and certainly never dreamed of seeing.

She wrote about her life, how she worked as a seamstress at a factory during the day then helped cook and clean at a boardinghouse in exchange for her room and board. Not considered beautiful by any sense of the word, Aundy assured him she had a strong constitution, a tender heart, and a willingness to work hard. She described how her parents, both from good Norwegian families, made certain their three children knew their heritage.

Convinced she’d never receive a reply, Aundy was surprised when a letter arrived from Erik. He invited her to correspond with him so they could get to know one another better before making any decisions or commitments.

They wrote back and forth, sharing bits of information about themselves, their families, their hopes and dreams. Aundy came to like the man in the letters penned with a confident hand.

Erik wrote he wasn’t much to look at, had never been married, and owned a farm that was on its way to being prosperous. He shared how lonely his life seemed and how much he wanted to have a family of his own.

When he wrote saying he was in love with her letters and asked if she’d agree to marry him, she quickly replied with her consent, changing the course of her future. Bespoken for the second time in her young life, Aundy had no delusions about being in love with Erik. Love died along with her beloved Gunther two years earlier.

Nonetheless, she had plenty of admiration and respect to share with Erik along with her devotion and loyalty. Even if she never brought herself to love the man, she would be a caring, gentle wife.

Forcefully returning her thoughts to the present, Aundy took a shallow breath in the train car filled with the mingling odors of stale food, unwashed bodies, and smells from the washroom.

She longed to press her warm cheek against the cool glass of the window. Instead, she tipped her head so she could see over the sleeping woman beside her to admire the brilliant blue sky, pine-dotted mountains, and snow-covered ground outside.

 The train chugged through the rugged Blue Mountains of Eastern Oregon. Aundy realized she was farther away from her familiar world than she ever imagined possible.

Tamping down her fears of what waited ahead, she pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule. Carefully rubbing her cheeks, she hoped to remove the worst of the soot. Grime covered every inch of her being from the long trip. She couldn’t wait to soak in tub of hot water, wash her hair, and dress in clean clothes.

She sincerely hoped Erik wouldn’t mind if she did that before she put on her wedding dress and exchanged nuptials with him. He didn’t mention his plans for when they would wed, but she assumed he would want to do so as soon as possible. If her assumptions proved true, she supposed she would most likely be Mrs. Erik Erikson before the end of the day.

That thought made her grip the reticule so tightly in her hands, her fingers cramped inside her soft leather gloves.

A light touch on her arm drew Aundy’s gaze to the woman who sat beside her for much of the trip.

“You’ll be fine, dearie,” Mrs. Jordan said, her kind brown eyes twinkling. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Aundy patted the hand resting on her arm and offered the woman a small smile. With mile upon mile of nothing to do but stare out the window and watch the incredible changing scenery, Aundy and Mrs. Jordan discussed their individual reasons for being on the train. The elderly woman traveled to Portland to live with her only daughter.

“You’re a smart, brave girl,” Mrs. Jordan said, sitting straighter in her seat. “I have no doubt that everything will work out for the best. If it doesn’t, you know how to get in touch with me.”

“I’m sure all will be well.” Aundy was grateful she had a slip of paper in her possession with Mrs. Jordan’s new address. If she ever needed somewhere to go, at least she had one friend on this side of the Rocky Mountains.

Aundy adjusted her hat, brushed at her skirt and the sleeves of her jacket, and moistened her lips. Although Erik said looks didn’t matter to him, she certainly hoped he wouldn’t be terribly disappointed when he met her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have refused when he asked for her photograph. 

Afraid he would break off their commitment once he realized she was no beauty, she figured he would take her as she was or she’d be in an even bigger mess than the one she left behind in Chicago.

She gathered her belongings along with her courage and glanced out the window. The snow had disappeared, leaving random patches covering the ground as the train made its way out of the mountains. The sky was so blue and wide open, she wondered if she could see up to heaven.

Would her father and mother look down and give their approval to what she was about to do? She prayed if Gunther could see her, that he wasn’t disappointed with her for marrying someone she would never love.

Aundy trapped a sigh behind her lips, brushed at her skirt one last time, and sat back to wait as the train rumbled to a stop, willing her pounding heart to slow as well.

The porter finally announced their arrival and stood outside the car, helping the women disembark.

After giving Mrs. Jordan a quick hug, Aundy slipped on her coat, grabbed the Gladstone bag that had been her mother’s, and stepped outside into the bright sunshine and brisk February air.

“Best wishes, Ms. Thorsen,” the porter said as he helped her down the steps.

“Thank you, sir.” Aundy tipped her head at him before turning her attention to the platform where a sea of people churned back and forth. How was she ever going to find Erik?

Cowboys and farmers, businessmen and miners, Indians covered with colorful blankets, Chinese men wearing long braids and strange hats, and women dressed in everything from plain calico to ornately festooned dresses milled together, all blending into a mass of varied colors.

Aundy filled her lungs with the clean air and wished, again, she had exchanged photographs with Erik when he asked. His description said he was tall, blond and plain. She’d written him a similar portrayal of her own appearance.

She looked around and counted four men who were several inches taller than the majority of the crowd. One had dark hair that fell down to his shoulders, one was an extremely handsome cowboy, one wore a nice suit, and the last one appeared to be a farmer in mud-splattered overalls who was not only dirty, but had a mean look about him. She certainly hoped he wasn’t her intended.

When the man in the suit removed his hat, clutching it tightly in his big hands, his white-blond hair glistened in the mid-day sun. Flecks of mud on his boots and the hem of his pants didn’t detract from his crisp shirt, attractive vest or well-made tie.

Discreetly studying him a moment, Aundy hoped he was the man she was about to wed. Despite his obvious nerves, he had a kind face, even if it was older than she anticipated. Erik never stated his age, never asked hers. 

While she was considered a spinster at twenty-one, she guessed Erik’s age closer to forty from the lines time and life had etched on his face.

Although not handsome, he had a gentleness about him that held Aundy’s interest. If this was, in fact, her betrothed maybe she hadn’t lost her mind after all.

Determined to make the best of her situation, she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. She marched up to the man as he continued to search the faces around him.

“Mr. Erikson?” Aundy asked, stepping beside him. The surprised look on the man’s face when he turned his attention her direction made her smile. “Erik Erikson?”

“Yes, I’m Erik Erikson.” He studied Aundy with undisguised curiosity. “May I assist you?”

“I certainly hope so.” Her jaunty grin made him smile in return. “You did say you needed a bride and asked me to marry you.”

“Oh! Ms. Thorsen? Is it really you?” Erik cradled Aundy’s gloved fingers between his two work-roughened hands.

“It is, indeed.”

“I had no idea… I didn’t think…” Erik attempted to chase his thoughts back together. “You said you weren’t comely and when I saw you get off the train, I thought you were much too lovely to be my bride. It’s a disservice, Ms. Thorsen, saying you are plain. You look like one of the Viking queens in the stories my mother used to read me at bedtime - tall, strong, and beautiful.”

His comments made her blush. No one had ever called her lovely or compared her to a Viking queen, although her father used to tell her she had the tenacity of her ancestors running through her veins.

Erik took her bag and escorted her off the platform over to a wagon hitched to a hulking team of horses.

“Meet Hans and Henry,” Erik said, setting her bag in the wagon then giving her a hand as she climbed up to the seat. “I would have brought the buggy, but I assumed you’d have luggage. If you wait here a moment, I’ll get your trunks.”

“Thank you.” Aundy warily studied the horses. With a childhood spent in the city in an apartment, she had no experience with animals, other than two kittens that belonged to her sister, Ilsa. She told Erik from the beginning of their correspondence he’d have to teach her about his farm and livestock. As he wrote about his day-to-day activities, she gleaned information about his horses and Shorthorn cattle, as well as the pigs and chickens he raised.

Although she wanted to crane her neck and stare at everything she could see, Aundy instead glanced around inconspicuously, taking in a variety of interesting faces and places. Erik wrote the town was growing and was one of the largest cities in Oregon. She hoped to have time to explore her new home another day.

 She watched Erik walk with his head and shoulders above much of the crowd as he collected her trunks.

He soon returned, easily carrying one of her trunks while two younger men struggled to carry her other trunks. He set them in the back of the wagon, tossed each man a coin with a nod of his head, and climbed up beside Aundy.

“I let the pastor know to expect us as soon as the train arrived,” Erik said, turning the horses so they began lumbering down the street.

“The pastor?” Aundy worked to keep from swiveling her head back and forth as Erik drove past stores and business establishments. There were so many interesting buildings and fascinating people.