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  Angelique

  Book 4

  Widows, Brides and Secret Babies Series

  Margaret Tanner

  Contents:

  Copyright: Margaret Tanner 2020

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Author Links

  About the Author

  Other Books by Author

  MAIL-ORDER ANGELIQUE

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies – Book Four)

  Copyright: Margaret Tanner 2020

  Thank you for downloading this e-book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author and publisher. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoy this book, then please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.

  This story is a work of fiction, and to enhance the story, some literary license has been taken regarding setting and geography. All characters are a figment of the author’s imagination.

  Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my author friends, Susan Horsnell and Cheryl Wright, for all their help and support.

  To my loyal readers: Thank you so much for your support. You can’t know how much I appreciate it.

  Cover Artist: Virginia McKevitt

  Chapter One

  Wyoming 1880

  “I will not marry you, Celia.” Clinton McKenzie almost ground his teeth in frustration as he paced the lobby of the Royal Hotel in Laramie.

  He should have ignored the message conveyed by one of his men to come here urgently. Didn’t he ever learn? Women were manipulative, selfish and greedy. He’d only married Josephine because her father claimed he had compromised her. Aided and abetted by her sister Celia, she had plotted and schemed, and being young and foolish he had fallen into their honeyed trap. The mistake had cost him dearly.

  What would it take for his late wife’s sister to realize he had no interest in her at all? If he never saw or heard from her again, he would be a happy man. He had lost his ranch house and a lot of money because of the pair of them. He wouldn’t put himself through the same kind of torture, being married to a woman who only wanted his money and spent it like water once she got it. He had lost count of the number of men his wife had betrayed him with over the years.

  He had to get Celia out of his life for good. Bitterness almost overwhelmed him. While Josephine had been alive, Celia had tried to get her greedy hooks into Tim. You were smarter than me little brother.

  He mourned the loss of Tim who was five years younger than his own thirty years of age. What in tarnation was Tim doing on a train near Cheyanne?

  Clint knew he was young enough to start again. Having been burned so badly by his first marriage he wasn’t prepared to go through it again with any woman, especially one like Celia. How could he get rid of her? He had to think of something and quickly, before he got caught up in her web of lies and deceit.

  “You can take me out to supper, Clint.”

  “I will do no such thing. I’ll be back at the ranch by then.”

  “Oh, that place. Now the house has burned down you should sell the ranch,” she ranted.

  “Even if I were to sell it, and I’m not going to, there wouldn’t be much over. Josephine with your help, practically bankrupted me.”

  “Oh, fiddle sticks. You’ve still got plenty of money.” She glared at him, daring him to deny it.

  “The ranch became rundown because I neglected it for years to pander to the whims of you and Josephine. It was too much for Tim to run on his own. You didn’t find any letter from Josephine. I was a fool to believe that you did.”

  Tears filled her chocolate brown eyes, but he was unmoved by it. He knew her only too well.

  “I lost my dear sister in the fire at your ranch.” She sniffed into a lace handkerchief.

  If she was hoping to get his sympathy, she was wasting her time. He couldn’t spare sympathy for himself, let alone her.

  “It was your sister who started the fire.”

  “She did not.”

  “Well, the sheriff believes she did. There was a strong smell of kerosene around the place and she was seen by one of the men throwing a lighted lamp at the window. The place erupted in flames and she couldn’t get out.”

  “He was lying.”

  “Why would he lie? She was the only one in the house, thankfully.”

  Tim had moved out after Clint had married Josephine to give them privacy, and was living in the original cabin built by their grandfather.

  The cabin was comfortable enough for his needs now. It would take years for him to have the money to rebuild. Anyway, what was the point? His shoulders slumped. There was no one of his blood left now.

  “You know I’ve always had feelings for you, Clint.” Celia went to link arms with him, and he flinched.

  “I’m leaving for the ranch. I should have ignored your message and not bothered riding all this way in to see you.” You’re a fool Clinton McKenzie. If you don’t watch yourself, you’ll get trapped again.

  “Take me with you.” Slowly she ran her tongue across her lower lip. “You must feel in need of a woman’s company living out there all alone.”

  “I’m warning you,” he snarled, losing patience. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want you at my ranch. In fact, I never want to set eyes on you again.” He swung away.

  Her taunting laughter bordered on the maniacal. “You’ll marry me. I just have to bide my time and when the opportunity arises, I will.”

  Swearing under his breath, he strode from the hotel and headed to where his horse was tied to the hitching rail. He was tempted to go to the saloon and down a few whiskies, but he had to keep a clear head to foil any plans Celia might devise to force him into marrying her.

  He mounted and rode off, inwardly cursing for having let himself be duped yet again. What had he hoped to find out about the fire from her? She hadn’t even been there. Why his wife had deliberately lit the fire? He already knew, she had done it to try and force him to sell the ranch and only a fool would believe otherwise.

  He had been away from the ranch at the time taking cattle to the railhead, hoping to get a better price if they were shipped directly to the buyer as he needed the money to replace some of what Josephine had squandered. His real guilt stemmed from not being sorry she had died. God forgive him, all he felt was relief at finally being free from her.

  Two hours later he rode under the wooden archway of his ranch, Argyle, the name his Scottish grandfather had chosen to call it. Tears burned at the back of his eyes on seeing his once fine homestead reduced to nothing more than two stone chimneys standing blackened and grotesque. Everything else had been cleared away as he couldn’t bear to look at the blackened shell of his childhood home.

  A couple of rose bushes had somehow survived. The fruit trees in the small orchard had only been scorched. Flying embers had set the woodshed on fire, although the damage was mainly confined to the house.

  The bunkhouse was intact, although practically empty. He had to let most of his men go except for the two old timers, Hughie and Bert, who he’d known all his life. He couldn’t pay them regular wages, but they were prepared to stay on for food, lodging and intermittent small sums of money, until his finances improved.

  “Better than following the grub line,” H
ughie had said. It was probably true, men in their sixties would be hard pressed to find employment even though they were still reasonably fit.

  The original cabin his grandfather built was in good condition as Tim had done a lot of work on it once he moved in. He had extended it so there was a bedroom and a combined sitting room and kitchen plus two small loft bedrooms, which would now never be used he thought bitterly. He was young enough to remarry and father children, but what woman would want to marry a man whose heart was frozen over? Some desperate old hag maybe. He wasn’t prepared to demean himself with a woman like that.

  He rode over to the stable area where Hughie met him.

  “I’ll take care of the horse, boss.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How did it go in town?”

  Clint grimaced. “How do you think?”

  “I told you not to go. That Celia is trouble.”

  “She sure is. You know, she had the gall to ask me to marry her, well demanded was more like it.”

  Hughie sucked in a noisy breath. “She’s had her eye on you for years.”

  The statement had Clint rocking back on his heels. “I didn’t know.”

  Hughie chuckled. “She’ll have you hogtied and branded if you don’t watch it.”

  “I suffered enough at the hands of one of the O’Dwyer sisters, I certainly don’t want to take on another. I’m not a masochist.”

  “Just be careful, son.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  “If you could find yourself a nice gal and wed her, the dragon lady would leave and find another victim. She’s already seen off two husbands.”

  Clint laughed. “You’re an incorrigible old man, I swear.”

  He handed over the reins, patted the horse on the rump and strode off. Beans would be fine for supper as he couldn’t be bothered with anything else. He often ate with the two men but didn’t feel like company right now.

  He pushed the back door open and stepped inside, hooking his hat on a peg as he did so. Building up the fire in the cook stove, he lit it and watched for a few moments to ensure the kindling had caught fire.

  Checking the coffee pot, he filled it and placed it on the stove. Kicking off his boots, he padded over to his favorite armchair and sat in it. Well, it had been Tim’s favorite.

  After a couple of minutes, he stood, wondering what he could do with his restless energy. Maybe he could go through the box of papers his brother had left in the closet before he was killed. He had avoided it for months because his loss had been too raw.

  “Do it,” he muttered. There might be something of importance although he doubted it. Their lawyer held the papers to the ranch, which they had shared after their father’s death. It all belonged to him now. Maybe that’s why Celia had come sniffing around?

  He poured himself a whiskey and stepped into the bedroom, resting his drink on a chest of drawers. After rummaging around in the closet, he retrieved the wooden box Tim had made as a boy to keep his ‘treasures’ in.

  He upended it on the bed. Tim’s old teddy bear stared at him through the one button eye that was left. Wooden blocks tumbled out. Tim had always been the sentimental one in the family. Maybe that was why he had seen through Josephine and Celia so quickly.

  A bundle of letters tied up with a piece of twine caught his eye. Why would his brother hang on to old letters? More interestingly, who would be writing to him. Curiosity got the better of him.

  A faint illusive scent wafted in his nostrils – lavender maybe? After holding one envelope close to his nose, he nodded. “Lavender for sure.”

  They had to be from a woman. Had Tim had a secret admirer? He suppressed a grin. His brother had never shown much interest in women, Josephine and Celia had probably turned him off them.

  “You’re loco if you marry her.” Tim’s words echoed in his ears. He had done what he thought was the gentlemanly thing and paid a heavy price for it. Those witches have turned me off marriage for life.

  Should he open the letters or not? Surely it wasn’t violating his brother’s privacy now he was dead. He hesitated for a moment before opening the first one. Shock nearly knocked the air from his lungs. They were mail-order bride letters. What had Tim gotten himself into?

  Dear Mr. McKenzie,

  I am pleased you saw fit to answer the advertisement the Jacobson Matrimonial Agency placed for me.

  My name is Angelique Nesbitt and I am nineteen years old.

  Angelique? That was a fake name if ever he heard of one. His lips curled. Couldn’t she come up with something better? She probably thought it sounded exotic.

  I live on a ranch not far from Kilvington, Cheyanne. My height is five feet three inches.

  Tarnation, that’s what Tim was doing on the train, going to meet this gal.

  Yes, I am looking to find a respectable, Godfearing man with a view to marriage.

  What had possessed his brother to even correspond with some desperate woman wanting to snare herself a man. She was probably as ugly as a dime’s worth of dog meat.

  I am told my appearance would be attractive to men.

  “Yeah, well why did you have to write away for a man?” he muttered.

  I have light brown hair and blue eyes. I am honest and hard working. I can cook and keep house and am familiar with farm animals. I do like the sound of what you wrote in your letter.

  Yours sincerely,

  Angelique Nesbitt.

  He skimmed through the second letter. It was longer and mentioned living with her grandparents who were contemplating selling up. She was after a meal ticket. No doubt about it.

  The third letter shocked him. They were on first name terms now.

  Dear Timothy,

  You sound like a nice man and I enjoy exchanging letters with you. It is the highlight of my day when they arrive.

  We are busy on the ranch, getting it ready for when grandpa sells it. I’m glad he and grandma have decided to go live with my aunt. She is a good woman, but she doesn’t have a great deal of room in her house, and I am old enough to make my own way in the world now.

  Of course, she needed somewhere to live Clint thought cynically and what better way to do it than grab herself a husband.

  The fourth letter nearly had smoke pouring out his ears.

  Dear Timothy,

  Yes, I accept your proposal of marriage, and look forward to you writing back with the arrangements. And yes, I can easily get the train from Cheyanne.

  I can’t wait to meet you. Grandpa has sold the ranch so it will work out perfectly. I will stay with friends in Kilvington until I hear back from you.

  Regards

  Angelique.

  Clint downed the rest of his drink in a single swallow. This last letter wasn’t dated but it must have been written only a few weeks before Tim died. Had he answered her back? More likely he had gone to see this woman.

  Time to eat, even though he didn’t feel like it now. He shoved the letters back into the envelopes and not knowing why he did so, placed them on the dresser and put everything back into the box.

  He strode out into the kitchen. The coffee was ready, so he opened a can of beans to go with it. Not much of a supper, but it would do, particularly as those letters had robbed him of any appetite he might have had. Tomorrow night he might share a meal with Hughie and Bert. Hughie wasn’t a bad cook. Tim obviously hadn’t told the men what he had done, or they would have told him, particularly Hughie, who was an old gossip.

  Seeing what marriage had done to him, it’s a wonder Tim even wanted a wife. Well, a man did get lonely at night and craved the warmth of a woman in his bed. After the first few months of his own marriage it had been one in name only.

  Giving a sigh, he finished off the beans and thoughtfully drank his coffee. Would this Angelique woman know Tim was dead? Maybe he should write and tell her. It would be the decent thing to do. She would probably be wondering why he had suddenly stopped writing twe
lve months ago.

  Maybe she was still on the market for a husband and he could offer himself as a replacement? Are you crazy? If she was still available, a desperate woman like her wouldn’t ask much of him, and it would get rid of Celia.

  Chapter Two

  Kilvington, Wyoming

  Angel finished feeding Robbie. “You’re a beautiful baby, your mama’s so proud of you,” she crooned. Life was hard as they were still living with Mrs. Taylor and the new preacher and his family. She felt bad about staying here with so many of them sharing this small house.

  She had to find a place of her own. There was always Aunt Lillian, but she was old, and grandma and grandpa had passed within days of each other. They did leave her fifty dollars. Preacher Tom refused to take any money from her. When she was able to, she had helped his wife Agnes with their two daughters.

  “Oh, baby, what are we going to do?” Tears filled her eyes. Two days she and Timothy had spent together as man and wife, then he tells her he needs to go to the ranch to get a wagon to transport her belongings. He never returned. Probably thought I wasn’t good enough for the son of a well-established Wyoming ranching family.

  What a despicable thing for him to do, stand up in church before God and the preacher and promise to love and cherish her. It had all been lies. He was probably already married, which is why she still used her maiden name.

  “I’ve got you, my darling,” she whispered. “And I don’t care what I have to do to keep you safe and happy.”

  The Kilvington people had been understanding and helpful even though it was a small struggling community.

  “Miss Angel.” Michael, the fourteen-year old son of the mercantile owner dashed through the door of the preacher’s house. The boy had a bad habit of not knocking and just charged inside without being invited. Maybe he thought because Preacher Tom lived here and was a man of God, it didn’t matter.

  “Shush, Michael, you’ll wake the baby.” She glanced down at her sleeping son.