Seducing Susannah: The Bride Train Read online

  Seducing Susannah

  Book 4, The Bride Train

  E.E. Burke

  Copyright

  Seducing Susannah is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2017 E.E. Burke.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in whole or in part in any form.

  Cover Design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Train photography by Matthew Malkiewicz

  Digital formatting by Author E.M.S.

  Published by E.E. Burke

  ISBN 978-0-9980712-5-1

  Table of Contents

  SEDUCING SUSANNAH

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Books by E.E. Burke

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Taken from an advertisement posted by the Missouri River, Fort Scott & Gulf Railroad in Eastern U.S. newspapers.

  EVE, FIND YOUR ADAM IN THE GARDEN OF THE WORLD!

  Single young ladies of good reputation desiring to emigrate west for the purpose of marriage may apply to the Young Ladies Immigration Society for free travel to Southeastern Kansas, where hardworking settlers are eager to make their acquaintance and become steadfast husbands. Applicants must be free to wed, of marriageable age, preferably between the ages of 18 and 25, without deformities, debts or other encumbrances. Dance hall girls, circus performers and soiled doves need not apply. Must provide references.

  From a letter dated April 8, 1870, written by Mrs. A. Langford, president of the Young Ladies Immigration Society and honorable member of the MRFS&G Railroad Board of Directors, to Mr. R. Hardt, newly hired land agent in Cherokee County, in regard to the success of the society’s matrimonial efforts.

  The first bride-train arrived in Girard, Kansas, on March 15. These young women, all of them respectable ladies, remained single for no more than a week. They have already had a calming influence on the unrest in Crawford County. We anticipate the same effect will be felt in Cherokee County subsequent to the delivery of more young women who are able to meet the men’s matrimonial needs.

  However, you must be aware the arrival of the prospective brides did not stop the Land League from stirring up trouble. The insufferable rebels are worse than an infestation of rattlesnakes and used our rally as a distraction. Whilst some men bid for picnic baskets, others slithered off to burn railroad ties. Our loss was catastrophic. Beware, lest the same thing happen to you. The sooner matches are arranged the better.

  Rest assured, the railroad’s board remains committed to this program, which will have its intended effect. Facilitating marriage isn’t solely a benefit to the railroad. It is for the good of the country. Lawlessness and savagery will not have the last word! The West will be settled, one bride at a time.

  Chapter 1

  June 7, 1870

  Centralia Settlement, Cherokee County, Kansas

  Leaning back in his rolling chair, Ross Hardt folded the crisp vellum sheet and slipped it back into the envelope. Having survived the hell of war, there were few things that could shock him. A letter from his father was one of those things.

  “Bad news?”

  He looked over a stack of unapproved land claims on his desk and met the questioning gaze of the only friend he’d made—who was an Englishman at that—since arriving six months ago to take over what had to be the most reviled position in the west, a land agent for a railroad.

  “My father asked me to return to Texas to take over the ranch.” Ross was sorely tempted to tear the letter in half and forget about it. The first communication from his pa in five years, and the old man was still trying to control his life.

  Surprise flashed across Constantine Valentine’s aristocratic features. “Will you leave soon?”

  Ross tapped the edge of the envelope against his palm, unsure how to answer. As always, an offer from his father came with strings. “Nothing in life is free, son.” Not love, and sure as hell not land.

  “Can’t say. Not even sure I want the ranch.” The lie he’d been telling himself for years sounded hollow, despite the still-simmering resentment the letter stirred. From the time his father had moved the family west when Ross was twelve, they had shared a vision. They would own land, lots of it, and breed the best livestock in the country. Even after he’d enraged his pa by riding off to war at twenty-one, he hadn’t given up the dream. It wasn’t until he’d returned to Texas after the war, heart sore and homesick, and learned the extent of his family’s betrayal that he’d finally admitted his dream was ashes. He’d ridden away, vowing never to return. Words spoken in anger, but at the time he’d meant them. Now, from those ashes the dream arose, once again, within reach.

  “When I last spoke to the old man five years ago, we didn’t part on good terms.” That was putting it mildly. They’d come to blows when he discovered his father had promised the ranch to his half-brother and the woman who’d betrayed him. “He disinherited me.”

  “You? Disinherited?” The vestige of surprise remained on Val’s face, joined by a half-smile. “My own sire disowned me. That was the reason I came to America, to make up for what I’d lost.” Val draped his leg over his knee. Somehow he managed to make denim look dashing. Gone were the frock coat and silk cravat. He’d shed his former life to pursue a new one.

  “Your decision to stay seems to have worked out well.”

  “My sweet Rose helped me see that I needed to put the past behind me.” Val’s tone softened at the mention of his beloved wife. A sweeter, more patient woman would be hard to find.

  Sweet wasn’t what Ross craved. Spicy was more to his liking…a woman like Susannah Braddock. Though he was wasting time thinking about her. Besides, he wouldn’t leap into marriage at his father’s command, and he had put his past behind him five years ago. “Do you regret not returning to England?”

  Val’s expression, which generally hovered between bored and mildly amused, became solemn. “No. However, I would regret leaving things unresolved. I’ve written to my father and offered an olive branch in an effort to make peace.”

  Ross’s lips tugged with a dark smile at the imagery. “Jacob Hardt doesn’t offer olive branches.”

  Val gestured to the letter in Ross’s hand. “What do you consider that?”

  “The act of a desperate man. He made my inept half-brother Charles his heir, and it’s taken him five years to admit his mistake. Now he’s cut Charles out of the will, as well as that Jezebel he married. The old codger is in a bind because he has no other children, or grandchildren. That’s why he’s offered to reinstate me—if I return with a wife. A proper one.”

  Val lifted a shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. “You told me the other day you were considering marriage.”

  True. As of late, he’d been hankering for a more settled life. Having to make matches for a dozen brides must’ve put the idea in his head—and a certain woman he couldn’t seem to banish from his thoughts, though he’d never admit it. “I meant at some point in the future.”

  “Now would appear a fortuitous time,” Val went on. “He’s not commanding you to do something you don’t already plan to do. That’s your pride resisting.”

  Pride, or mule-headed stubbornness, was something the Hardt males had in abundance. But Val was right in advising him to put his res
entment aside and consider the opportunity with a clear mind. Good horses were in more demand than ever, and the cattle business would explode when the railroad reached Texas. Success and a dream fulfilled were within his grasp, and all he had to do was move ahead with his plan to marry and start a family.

  “Even if I wanted to abide by his requirement, where the hell would I find a proper wife? Men outnumber females ten-to-one, and that’s counting the whores.”

  “You could pass off one of Squirrel-Tooth Sally’s girls. I’ll help you train her.”

  Ross fought a smile, imagining his father’s face if he brought home a whore painted up to look like a lady. Olivia had purported to be a lady, but she’d turned out to be less trustworthy than a whore.

  “Kind of you to offer. But I won’t leave before I finish the job I was sent here to do.”

  “Arrange weddings?” Val replied with a straight face.

  “Very funny.”

  “I do try… Who came up with the Bride Train idea?”

  Val had gotten himself a wife, and a good one, so he might view the program as a success. Ross resented the role he’d been forced to play in the process. He’d come out here to negotiate peace, not to make matches.

  “One of the investors and railroad board members, Mrs. Langford. She claimed some success in Crawford County with the program and managed to convince the board that shipping in eligible young women would pacify the settlers down here.”

  “Meeting their demands for lower land prices would pacify them,” Val suggested.

  Ross couldn’t entirely disagree, but neither side was bending. “Giving in to unreasonable demands isn’t in the best interests of the railroad. A compromise might be reached—if we could get past these distractions.”

  “I assume by distractions you mean women. Only three remain single, by my count.”

  “Just need to get them married off and be done with this nonsense,” Ross muttered. He wouldn’t mind taking one particular woman, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Besides, the Bride Train ladies were under contract to wed settlers, not railroad employees.

  He set his father’s letter aside and shuffled through papers for a document he needed to sign. He finally found it amidst the jumble on his desk, the consequences of avoiding paperwork. Picking up his pen, he dipped it into the ink well and scratched his signature. Just before he could put the pen away without incident, ink spurted onto his fingers and shirtsleeve.

  Devilish device.

  Didn’t matter how many nibs he changed, the pen still splattered him. He used a handkerchief to wipe his fingers—nothing to be done about the white shirt except to roll up the sleeves for the time being.

  Val pretended not to notice. It was hard to imagine the former nobleman with ink stains on his fingers. Lord Valentine did have coal dust beneath his nails—a satisfying observation.

  “How are things coming along on construction of the mine?”

  “We’ll be hauling out coal by next month,” Val laced his fingers over his chest, appearing confident. “Your investment will pay off, Ross. I promise.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” He had given Val enough money to get the mine started, mostly to keep him from leaving. The town couldn’t afford to lose intelligent men.

  When the nobleman won a claim in a poker game, everyone expected him to sell the valuable land to the highest bidder and go back to England. He surprised them by staying. There was no guarantee his venture would be successful, but for a former gambler, he showed a surprising aptitude for hard work. Something Ross hadn’t anticipated when they first met. Odd. His first impressions were usually accurate.

  “I appreciate the chance to invest. Who knows? You might make me rich.”

  “Better yet, I’ll make me rich.” Val had to have the last word in every conversation.

  Ross stood to stretch his legs. Needing to move, he crossed to the large picture window, which had been shipped in by railroad for a dress shop that had failed to materialize. The previous land agent used the glass for his office instead. Ross enjoyed being able to see outside. He hated to be cooped up in a dark room.

  A petite woman walking briskly from the corner arrested his gaze.

  Susannah Braddock.

  He’d recognize her curvaceous form anywhere—or his body would, at any rate. Inconvenient, this strong attraction he had to a woman who despised him.

  Talk about first impressions. She’d made a hell of an impression the day she’d arrived in town, smacked his face so hard his ears rang. Granted, he had it coming after losing his patience and embarrassing her. Since then, he’d tried to find the right time and place to apologize, even stooping so low as to seek her out at church and sit beside her, hoping to speak to her afterwards. She’d shooed him away in front of the entire congregation. He ought to call it a draw and let her be, but he couldn’t.

  “Ross, there’s something I need to tell you.” Val’s solemn tone and concerned expression could only mean one thing.

  “Is Mrs. Valentine ill?”

  “No, she’s very well, thank you. She’s shopping.”

  “That’s a relief.” Ross meant it. He was very fond of Mrs. Valentine.

  “Rose won’t have time to stop by, but she sends her regards.” Val didn’t bat an eye or indicate he still struggled with jealousy.

  Ross had a slight bump on the bridge of his nose as a reminder. “Give her my regards in return, and tell her thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not coming by to see me and tempting you to punch me in the nose again.” Ross’s smile faded when his friend didn’t respond to the dig. He’d never been interested in Rose Muldoon beyond a sort of brotherly affection. Surely Val realized that by now. “What’s the trouble? You appear concerned.”

  “I am concerned. For you.”

  Ross released a laugh that sounded rusty. He hadn’t found many things amusing lately, but this was a good joke. Val must’ve looked out the window and seen the feisty widow approaching, and couldn’t resist returning a jab. He’d been witness to the face-slapping incident. “Aside from being a bantam, I don’t believe she’s dangerous.”

  Val rose from his chair and joined Ross at the window. “Ah. I disagree. A determined woman can be very dangerous. No, my concern stems from scuttlebutt I heard at the saloon, something about an attack against the railroad. Could be vandalism or a robbery, I don’t know for certain, and I don’t know who all might be involved. But I thought you ought to know.”

  Ross mulled over the news. Rumors about attacks—on his person, as well as the railroad—abounded. If he took them all seriously, he wouldn’t leave his office. “Probably just talk, but I appreciate the warning.”

  As Susannah Braddock passed the window, she peered at the glass. Given the bright sunlight outside, Ross didn’t think she could see much, other than her own reflection. She might fear he would leap out at her. Whenever their paths crossed, she fled in the opposite direction.

  The door swung open and she nearly walked into him, startling them both. Her gaze widened. He noticed, not for the first time, that her eyes were the same light gray color as an early morning sky.

  “Mr. Hardt, I apologize for the interruption.” Her voice had a distinct northeastern twang, which was something that didn’t usually accelerate his heartbeat.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Braddock.”

  She shifted back on her heels, seeming to lean away from him. Was it possible she also felt this inexplicable pull between them, and was determined to resist it? “Good afternoon…though you might not find it to be after we speak.”

  Her odd remark made no sense, but who cared about what she said. His fingers itched to remove the ugly bonnet, dismantling an artful arrangement of honey-colored curls, and release the tresses to see how long her hair reached. Hip-length, he’d guess, long enough to form a curtain around a man when she bent to kiss him while seated astride.

  Susannah Braddock was, hands down, the most beautiful woman aroun
d. Every man in town lusted after her, including him. Was she aware of his interest? Of course, she had to be. Any woman who looked like this one was well aware of her beauty and knew how to use it to her advantage. Just like Olivia had used her charms to lure him, then when she’d realized he would lose everything, had turned her wiles on Charles.

  “What can I do for you?” The question came out harsher than Ross had intended. He needed to remember that Susannah Braddock wasn’t Olivia. For one thing, she was a darn sight prettier. She was also honest about her feelings—brutally so, when it came to him. He respected her more for that, not less.

  “I, um…” Her gaze darted past him and a delighted smile transformed her face, delivering a hard kick to his chest. But she wasn’t smiling at him. In fact, she looked relieved as she stepped around him and held out her hand. “Mr. Valentine! What a pleasant surprise.”

  Val took her gloved fingers and bent in a noble bow. “Very pleasant, indeed. You’re looking lovely as always, Mrs. Braddock.”

  Ross frowned as the two exchanged pleasantries. She hadn’t remembered to offer him her hand. Then again, he hadn’t remembered to give her a compliment either. He tried to come up with a nice compliment, one that would be appropriate. Her skirt was a drab dark blue, but the fitted jacket had the good fortune to hug her full breasts.

  “Is that a new outfit?” The stupid question was out before he could stop to think of something more intelligent and circumspect.