Chapter 1
Evelyn Webster, a twenty-three-year-old exhausted and travel-worn orphan, was a virgin mail-order bride who had lied about her purity, and was currently questioning the state of her hearing.
"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice faint as she stared up at the hulking cowboy claiming he was her soon-to-be husband. Well, one of them. Next to him was another man, just as brawny and broad-shouldered, and apparently, he was to be her other husband.
She was quite sure she had misheard, possibly because the several-days-long train ride from New York to the small town of Chance had been rather tiring.
Perhaps she hadn't arrived at all and was actually dreaming, although she couldn't imagine how her mind could have conjured such a wild scenario. Nor two such men.
They were light and darkness, night and day.
They both had sun-burnished skin, but one had locks as dark as a ravens wing and eyes so dark they were nearly black while the other was as fair as the former was dark, with blond hair, light-blue eyes, and a sunny smile.
Still, there was something very no-nonsense about the both of them, or she would have thought they were pulling her leg.
The dark-haired man smiled down at her, although concern now started to leak into his gaze.
"I'm Wilson Bray," he repeated.
Wilson Bray was the name of the man she'd been corresponding with, and who had paid for her train ticket.
Evelyn's heart was starting to sink. She wasn't waking up, the feel of sweat on her skin and the smoke in the air from the train certainly didn't seem dream-like, and she seemed to be hearing the gentleman just fine.
"This is Jake Tillman. If you're agreeable, we're both going to marry you and be your husbands."
Evelyn thought she might faint.
"It's not unusual out here," Mr. Tillman said, giving her another reassuringly bright smile.
He gestured down the station's platform where another young woman was speaking with two men.
"There's not many ladies and quite a few men.
Chance isn't the only town with some different marital arrangements. The West is a whole new world."
That was severely understating the case.
"We understand if you decide you want nothing to do with us," Mr. Bray said, although he looked a little nervous at the prospect.
"We'll pay for your ticket home if you've changed your mind.
All Chance brides get the same offer, since we aren't completely open about the situation until they've arrived. "
Very likely, that was because no respectable woman would ever respond to such a scandalous ad. Evelyn was fairly certain she wouldn't have...
Or had she become desperate enough to consider it?
Her lips pressed together.
Going home meant returning to New York and no home at all.
After her dear father passed away, she'd managed to find a job in a workhouse, but the conditions had been wretched and her salary had barely paid for a shared room to let.
Other girls had also looked at the mail-order ads, but had been too afraid to take the final step.
Then, the manager's favorite girl had been fired when it became clear she was with child.
They all knew it was the manager's child but she’d been tossed onto the streets by her landlady, and the manager had started making remarks to Evelyn.
He'd wanted her to become his new 'favorite girl', and his impatience had grown higher and higher. Soon, it became clear she would be out of a job, sooner rather than later, if she kept declining his advances.
Becoming a mail-order bride had been her only immediate option. She'd seen the opportunity for stability, for a roof over her head, food enough to eat, clean clothes and proper wedlock with a man who wouldn't toss her onto the streets for having his child.
Looking at the two men in front of her, she could see their clothes were clean, if not pressed. They were handsome enough, looked quite capable of taking care of themselves and her, and certainly looked well fed.
"You have a ranch?" she asked, her voice still quiet but clear.
"Yes," Mr. Bray said with a nod, looking almost boyishly hopeful.
He really was quite appealing and certainly more of a gentleman in manners than her manager had been, even if he and Mr. Tillman were both dressed much more casually than anyone in New York normally would be.
"A large one. We've cattle, horses, and a few goats and chickens.
The house isn't overly large as it's been just the two of us living in it, and the hands stay in a separate bunkhouse, but it's sturdy and not overly small, either. "
A roof over her head, food enough to eat, clean clothes and proper wedlock with a man who wanted children.
"What about children?" she asked hesitantly.
Surely two husbands would be more likely to produce a child than one, but how would such an arrangement work?
With such different looks, perhaps it would be obvious whose child was whose, but what if the child looked like her? Which man would claim the babe?
"We'd both consider ourselves a parent," Mr. Tillman said firmly. "We'd still be a family unit, just like any other."
Perhaps not like ANY other.
Despite how scandalous it was, despite how unusual it sounded, she was really rather desperate. Returning to New York was not an option; there was nothing for her there, and they did meet all the requirements she'd set out for her marriage.
Glancing over at the other young woman, she saw her setting off between the two men who had been talking with her, obviously having made her decision, as well.
Drawing herself up, Evelyn gave a little nod of her head, trying to appear much braver and more composed than she actually felt.
"Very well, I'll marry you. Both of you."
Jake’s eyebrows raised up in response to Miss Evelyn Webster's stubborn chin lifting into the air.
She was a pretty little thing and she held herself well, but it was easy to see she was intimidated, maybe even scared.
Not surprising. Most of the ladies who came out West to be mail-order brides were already a little scared, coming out to be married to a man they'd never met.
The prospect of taking on two or more husbands had caused more than one newly arrived woman to balk.
Surprisingly, many came to the same decision Miss Webster had.
A few asked for time to think about it. Only a small handful had ever taken the trip back East.
The women coming out to be brides in the West were often just as hungry for a new life as the men here were for a wife.
The men here were desperate enough to share, once they'd realized even mail-order brides were hard to come by.
In a small town like Chance, they didn't even have a bawdy house to provide some relief.
Any single woman who came into town was immediately courted as marriage material, regardless of her previous life or virginal status.
Chance was a small but prosperous enough town.
The land was good, so the farmers were doing well, and most of them panned for gold in their free time.
There wasn't much gold, but every now and then someone would find something to help them along.
There were quite a few ranches and farms, all of which had hired hands, as well as the usual businesses in town.
It hadn't taken long before the first pair of gentlemen had decided they'd rather share a wife than have none at all, and it had started off an unexpected trend.
The pastor had thrown up his hands in defeat and started performing the ceremonies, reasoning that if Abraham had two wives there was a Biblical precedent.
Jake didn't so much care about that, but it did make things easier to have it all official.
He and Wilson had grown up together in Virginia and made their way out west as young men.
They'd been hired hands at first, but had scrimped and saved—and made a couple lucky finds when panning for gold along the way—and now they were the proud owners of the B he tended to be the better communicator in general.
Wilson was smiling, trying to appear unthreatening, but he had also been anxious, and sometimes that made him speak before he thought.
He was probably so relieved she'd decided to stay that he just said the first thing that came to his head, which unfortunately sounded fairly brusque.
Jake knew why, though; they were both definitely attracted to Miss Webster, and her spunk was admirable.
Even though they'd just met her, both of them would have been sorry to see the back of her.
"We're very happy to hear that," Jake said. He held out his hand, bending forward toward her luggage. "Here, let us get your bags for you."
Relief pushed away the wariness in her expression, and she smiled a little more genuinely as the two men each picked up a bag.
"Thank you."
"Our pleasure," Wilson said, smiling even more brightly at her. She smiled back, seeming to accept that Wilson hadn't meant to be short with her.
Walking out of the train depot, Miss Webster looked around with interest at the town of Chance’s Main Street.
The train depot was at the farthest end of the road, which stretched for several blocks and included a general store, the church, the main boarding house, the bank, the press, two bars and several homes.
"Thanks Tommy," Wilson said to the boy watching their carriage, flipping a penny at him. "We're just going to the church, and then we'll be back."
Grinning, the ten-year-old snatched the penny out of the air and continued stroking the black horse's mane.
They weren't worried about anyone making off with the horse and carriage, but Old Jet wasn't always the best-behaved horse and it was better to have someone there to pet his nose and make sure he didn't feel abandoned.
Otherwise, he might throw one of his horsey-tantrums, making a lot of noise and fuss, and sometimes managing to tangle his leads.
Truth was, he was one spoiled horse, but he was also the first horse they'd ever bought, and now he was old and they let him get away with murder.
"To the church?" Miss Webster asked, looking very anxious again, her voice a little higher than it had been.
"For the wedding," Jake said, a very small lilt in his voice, turning the statement into a question. Had she already changed her mind?
"Right... of course," she said, glancing down at her dress.
"Oh, do you have a wedding dress?" Jake asked, feeling foolish.
He and Wilson had talked about having the ceremony as soon as possible, so they could make it back to the ranch before dark, but of course she hadn't been part of that conversation.
It hadn't even occurred to them to think she might want to change and freshen up for her wedding.
From her hesitation, he deduced that she likely did have a special dress picked out but wasn't sure she should say so.
"Which bag is it in, sweetheart?" asked Wilson.