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  Waiting on Waylon

  December 1891 New York City

  After rejecting the unwanted advances of her boss, Vivian Leete loses her job as a seamstress and is kicked out of the boardinghouse above the shop during a snowstorm. With no family or friends to turn to, she takes the only chance she sees to survive and heads west to Colorado as a mail-order bride. When her prospective husband doesn’t show up to get her, she goes home with Seffi Morgan, the matriarch of a prosperous cattle ranch.

  Topaz, Colorado

  Waylon Morgan vows never to saddle a wife with his private disgrace, but to stop his mother's matchmaking, he tells her he’s ordering a bride. After a week of driving cattle, he returns home to find that his mother has hired Miss Leete to help her care for the ranch house. Miss Leete is just the kind of beautiful he desires, and he fights the attraction growing between them though she seems willing to give him her heart.

  Cowboys & Angels is a collection of companion stories, each with its own plot as a stand alone book, but all sharing the Old West location of Creede, Colorado.

  Waiting on Waylon

  Jo Noelle

  Contents

  Waiting on Waylon: A Cowboys & Angels Romance

  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

  Epilogue

  Cowboys & Angels Series

  About the Author

  Waiting on Waylon: A Cowboys & Angels Romance

  Visit Jo's site at http://JoNoelle.com or connect with us on Facebook @JoNoelle.

  Chapter 1

  Vivian Leete

  New York City, 1891

  Vivian was alone in the sewing shop—again. Angling her chair to have full view of the doorway into the store, she glanced around the darkening room. She pushed her needle faster in and out to finish so she could leave. Just a few more minutes. She hated being in the shop with no one else around. There was safety in numbers.

  The doorway between the dress shop and the ladies’ sewing room slowly creaked open an inch, then two. Vivian’s hands stilled, her needle buried in the fabric mid-stitch. Her heart jumped into her throat. The other seamstresses had left a half an hour ago. She only remained to finish the hem Mrs. Plem required of her before she too would return to the small boarding room above the store.

  Vivian held her breath and strained to hear the slightest sound. Nothing. Maybe the wind had pushed the door open. Still her hands moved quickly. Better to get out of here just the same. She wondered if there was anywhere else she could live. Surely someone needed a seamstress. Without family or friends to help her, how would she even know where to seek a job?

  She glanced behind her and noticed the gray light through the grimy windows, revealing that the sun had just set. Nighttime started earlier now that winter was coming on.

  The door’s hinges creaked again, startling Vivian, her eyes swinging back to the growing gap.

  No. Not again. Mr. Plem had caught her leaving one night last week and assaulted her with a drunken kiss. Kiss? No—it felt like a punch to her soul. Kisses are shared and can’t be stolen like that. Knowing his advances caused her distress near to illness and threatened her character and employment, alarm propelled her to leave.

  Mr. Plem entered the room and shut the door. “Are you waiting for me, poppet?” His fleshy lips spit with each word, and he advanced toward Vivian. He pulled the bowler hat from his greasy hair and stumbled a few steps across the room, then balanced himself, leaning on a table.

  Vivian shoved the yards of fabric toward the middle of the table. Her hands trembled as she tossed her thread and scissors into the pile while sliding her chair back. She left her chair, but her own skirts were caught underfoot as she stumbled to free herself, keeping an eye on her escape route and on the lecher’s advance.

  She weaved between the sewing machine tables, shoving the chairs away.

  “Ah, don’t be like that.”

  Before Vivian could open the door, Mr. Plem’s hand fisted in her skirt and pulled her toward him with a jerk. His fat belly pressed against her back as he pushed her into the bolts of fabric on the shelves. His meaty hand grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, his sour breath puffing into her face.

  She lifted her knee, but his leg blocked the blow.

  “But I likes the chase. Get my blood pumpin’, you do.” He licked his lips and leaned toward her as Vivian tried shoving his chest and turned her face away from his slobbery mouth.

  The dress shop door banged open. Mrs. Plem shrieked. “You whore!” She slammed the door behind her and stomped across the floor as Mr. Plem slinked away. “You’re fired.” She swung her arm and slapped Vivian, grabbed her by the hair and hauled her away from the door, then opened it. “And don’t be going to the boarding room or I’ll send for the police. You won’t be staying there.” Then she shoved her out into the snow.

  Vivian fled into the wind, the cold biting into her. Her coat, though it was almost rags, hung on a peg upstairs and would be welcome right now. She hadn’t thought she needed it this morning when she left.

  Mrs. Plem had followed her out and now stood at the base of the staircase to the rooms above. Everything Vivian owned was in that room. It wasn’t much—another dress, a coat, a bag of scraps, and a thin blanket. She looked at the window on the second floor. Her roommate pantomimed sleeping, followed by her hand sweeping toward herself.

  Vivian hoped that meant to come back when the Plems were asleep. She walked away and turned the corner. The chill in the wind caused her eyes to glisten. She looked up and down the dirty street. Where would she go? How would she live or feed herself?

  Chills covered her arms, and her muscles ached with cramping from the cold. She was grateful for the new wool dress she was wearing. She made only one dress a year for herself, and she had recently finished this one. It would have seen her through the winter, but she had expected to have a coat as well. Walking might warm her up or at least keep her alive until she could return to the room to talk to her friend.

  It had been fully dark for a couple of hours, and few lights within buildings were still lit. She was tired when she cautiously peeked around the corner before she entered the alley. Her legs felt weak. Her face felt numb from the cold.

  Julia bounded out of the boarding room and down the stairs with her arms full. When she reached Vivian, she pushed her by the shoulders back toward the road. “I brought your coat. It’s all I could hide before Mrs. Plem came in and took your things.”

  Vivian shrugged into it.

  Mrs. Plem leaned out the upstairs door. “Come back here. I’ll get the police—I will.”

  Julia pushed Vivian, and the girls ran. Several blocks away, they leaned against the brick wall of a store, and Julia wrapped a quilt around them. “Look.” She shoved a flyer in front of her friend’s nose.

  Vivian saw large bold print and a picture of a train, but she had no idea what it was for. She didn’t want to admit her shame of not being able to read, so she just shook her head.

  “There’s a train leaving at daybreak to go west. Men out west have advertised for women to come share their lives. I was going to sneak out alone, but with you being sacked, I wondered if you’d like to come along, too.”

  “You’re going to marry someone you don’t know?” Vivian asked. Startled by the idea, she began shaking her head. “Wait. What if there aren’t real husbands? What if they’re just taking us somewhere else
? It could be terrible—don’t go.”

  Julia slipped a letter out of her pocket. “My sister took the Brides Train last fall. She sent me this letter from Kansas City. She says she lives on a farm with a man who treats her well.”

  Vivian felt a degree of relief to know of someone who had gone before them. Could this be the chance she needed to start over? There was really nothing for her to lose. Hope spiraled upward through her chest. She linked her arm with her friend and said, “We’ll make fine brides.”

  “Yes. We’ll marry handsome men who make us happy to have left all of our sorrows behind.”

  Vivian was glad to have Julia for company and for the idea that would rescue her. It took the rest of the night to walk to the train station, but the long walk kept her warmer. Still she lost the feeling in her toes. Her feet felt heavy as she stumbled along. The snow fell lightly and soaked her hair. Shortly after arriving at the station, they met the agent for the Brides Train Matrimonial Service.

  “Name? Age? Any preferences?” he asked each of them. Then he rummaged through letters in his hand. He penned the women’s names on two letters.

  He handed the first to Julia. “This one will get you to Kansas and near your sister,” he said.

  Then he handed a letter to Vivian. “This is a perfect match for you as well. Here is your traveling money. If you decide not to marry the men, send a telegram to my name.” He pointed to the bottom of the pages. “And I’ll arrange for your return. Hurry aboard.” He walked the two women to the Union Pacific train headed to California.

  Could that really be all there was to matching them to a future mate?

  They boarded the train and found a seat together. Vivian pulled her shoes off and tucked her feet beneath her to warm them. Within minutes, the train lurched and lurched until it began to smoothly travel down the rails.

  As her journey began, Vivian often caught herself reciting the assurances she’d been given before signing on for the train ticket. It helped to push down the sudden bursts of panic. She had to fight for control—to hope for the best, to believe good things would happen, to choose to be happy. The representative had assured her that they’d investigated all the gentlemen before they were included on their list. She though on that often.

  My future husband is in the West.

  Julia and Vivian had walked off the train four days later at a station in Kansas to await her friend’s husband. Julia kissed her cheek and gave her the quilt. “Some man will be very lucky to marry you.”

  “You might have saved my life, Julia. I’ll miss you.” The whistle blew, and Vivian reboarded the train alone. Before she left the station, Vivian watched Julia take the arm of a very tall, lanky man, who stopped and wrapped her in his coat. Vivian was hopeful that her friend’s husband was a kind man and that Julia would have every happiness. Her heart repeated that wish for herself too.

  After having said goodbye to Julia, Vivian had removed her letter of introduction from where she’d tucked it into her dress to find someone to read it to her, but then she lost it to the wind and an open window. She should have memorize the name of the town—and the man for that matter…Leon somebody. How many men named Leon or Lorn or something close to that could there be at a train station?

  Vivian had already decided that she wouldn’t take the return trip the Bride Train promised. She had a one-way trip to a new beginning. If she didn’t marry the man, she’d stay and make the best of it. There was nothing for her in New York—she’d be without home or friends. No. Colorado would suit her just fine.

  The stipend she received from signing up as a bride was enough to buy a little food along the way, and, if she was careful, to rent a room while the suitability of the marriage was determined.

  Trying to feel more confident than she was, she straightened her shoulders and sat up, gazed out the window toward the western mountain range, and absently smoothed the skirt of her dress as questions plagued her.

  Why would a man request a wife unseen? She guessed many men did just that through bride companies. Meeting in person seemed a logical alternative. Perhaps that’s why the offer of a return ticket was made. If they decided not to wed, the woman could return.

  That last thought gave her enough peace to accept the offer and travel across the vast country. Fact is, she had jumped at the offer. In New York, she had nowhere to live and nothing to fill her belly. That cold wind soon would have become weeks and months of snow and ice.

  ***

  Vivian felt the train rumble beneath her, slower and slower, as it had several times since they’d left New York City. At one of those stops, Julia had left, and Vivian had to travel the rest of the way alone. She was in Colorado now. The train had stopped in Colorado Springs earlier that morning to change trains. Tall purple mountains with snowy white peaks lined the sky to the west. Frigid wind, blowing from that direction, sent her loose hair flying. She’d been sure the letter had told her to take the fourth train and get off at the first stop. Confusion filled her. The fourth train suddenly felt like the wrong thing to do.

  Thankfully, a kind man approached her. He was dressed in a fine black vest and white shirt with a red scarf wrapped around his waist. “May I assist you?” His deep brown eyes sparkled above his mustache. When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “You need the Bride Train. Your husband is waiting, correct?”

  “Yes, I lost my letter, and I’m not sure when to board.”

  “It’s the first train.” His thick Spanish accent was infused with tenderness, and the words he spoke gave her confidence. He pointed to another track where a locomotive was readying to leave. “You will get off at the fourth stop. And wait.” He had extended his arm, offering to walk her to the train. The instant she placed her palm on his sleeve, calm seemed to flow from him into her. “Be patient and wait,” he said.

  Gray smoke belched above the cab of the train, and the engineer called out the window, “All aboard!”

  When Vivian and the man reached the train, he stepped aside to allow her to mount the black metal steps. As she grabbed the handle and put her foot on the stair, she wondered why she would need to be patient.

  “Your husband may not know how to accept the Lord’s gift in his life. Be patient and wait.”

  She looked at the train. It felt right. Her life was heading in a good direction. How had he known she needed to hear just those words? When she turned to thank him, he had disappeared.

  Fourth stop. She boarded the first train and settled into a seat. The minutes passed, and Vivian wondered about the man she was about to meet and possibly marry. She had no idea if she was tall or what his age was. She hoped they had some similar interests. She supposed they had the same goal—to marry and be happy.

  Hours later, the conductor walked through the car. “This stop Buena Vista, Colorado. Take all your bags, boxes, and babies with you. Next stop—Salida this evening.” She heard him barking out the same instructions in the next car.

  The trepidation she had felt at the beginning of this journey returned with each stop the train made. Her heart was currently trying to pound its way right out of her chest. The kind man at the station in Colorado Springs had said the fourth stop. She would try to have faith in his words.

  The next day, the train squealed and chugged to a stop alongside a wooden platform and building—the fourth stop. Through her window and past the Creede, Colorado station was a wide dusty road and what she thought must be the town with similar buildings on both sides, each one of wooden construction, not a brick or stone façade in sight. Several were new. Everything about this place was different from New York. She could only hope.

  Although she wanted to get off the train and start her future, her knees didn’t cooperate. It felt like June bugs were rioting in her stomach, and her hands shook when she lifted them from her skirt. She peered out the window again and gave herself a little talk. This is a fine town—a good town full of good people. Now, get up and go meet them.

  A few passengers
disembarked and were met on the wooden walk. Some seemed to be new to the town, like her, while others walked away like they had somewhere to go.

  I’ve got somewhere to be, too. In a moment of exhilaration, she felt free. In this mountain town, there was no boss to harass her. There wasn’t a contract binding her that could never be repaid. Outside of the dusty window, the bright blue sky shone over the open land all around, and a little town where she could be anyone.

  Did her future husband even know she’d accepted the invitation? Surely the matrimonial service telegraphed ahead. A letter wouldn’t have had time to be mailed.

  Vivian shook out her fisted hands, stood, picked up her quilt, took a deep breath, and left the train. Perhaps someone was standing outside even now, waiting for his bride. With a few steps, she started her new life.

  It was much colder here, and she could see white caps atop the peaks of the surrounding mountains. She pulled the quilt around her shoulders tighter. It appeared to her that if winter started this early, it might also stay late. A shiver froze her. She walked quickly away from the train where the smoke curled around the engine, soiling the pristine air. She’d been choking on it since she left New York.

  People around her walked here and there—everyone moving while only Vivian stood still. She felt out of place. Of course she did because she was. She had never been alone—never. She had gone from an orphanage to working as a seamstress, being quartered with the other women. Even most of the train ride had been with Julia. Now she was completely alone.

  The minutes passed while new passengers reloaded. Cargo boxes and animals were pushed into boxcars, and still Vivian stood beside the station gate on the boardwalk. Who am I even looking for? She didn't have a description. Surely he would be looking for her. She worried what might happen if he couldn't read, either, and didn't know what she looked like. Would the telegram have even told him that? Vivian pulled her blanket tightly around her shoulders. People eyed her, but no one approached.