Perfectly Mismatched (Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs Book 1) Read online

  Perfectly Mismatched

  By Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Book 1 - Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, place, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright ©Linda Carroll-Bradd All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means without express permission from author or publisher.

  Published by Inked Figments

  Cover artist: Tamra Westberry (writing as Tara West)

  Edited by: Shenoa, Lustre Editing www.lustreediting.com

  Manufactured in the United States

  ISBN: 978-1-940546-18-6

  First Printing Perfectly Mismatched, June 20, 2017

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. Purchasing this e-book gives you the right to one copy for your reading enjoyment. The purchase does not grant resale rights, sharing rights (either individual file sharing or sharing through peer-to-peer programs) auction or contest prize rights, or rights of any kind to sell or give away a copy of this book.

  Doing so is considered piracy and criminal copyright infringement—an illegal act in violation of U.S. Copyright Law and can be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by a maximum of five years in federal prison in addition to a $250,000 fine.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to

  The hard-working authors of the Sweet Americana Sweethearts blog who provide the world with sweet/clean historical romances about North Americans between 1820 and 1929.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  i

  1

  Chapter One

  1

  2

  Chapter Two

  13

  3

  Chapter Three

  19

  4

  Chapter Four

  30

  5

  Chapter Five

  39

  6

  Chapter Six

  47

  7

  Chapter Seven

  56

  8

  Chapter Eight

  67

  .

  .

  .

  .

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book is part of a multi-author series sponsored by the authors who write for the Sweet Americana Sweethearts blog. My appreciation and thanks go to the other authors who helped develop and populate

  the fictional mining town of

  Jubilee Springs along the Arkansas River east of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

  .

  .

  .

  DISCLAIMER

  The town of Jubilee Springs and all the characters described in this story are fictional. They are not based on any real persons, past or present. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintended.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  FOREWARD

  Welcome to Jubilee Springs

  This town of friendly folks in the Arkansas Valley of central Colorado sprang up right after silver was discovered in the nearby hills a decade or so ago. The western horizon is filled with vistas of the Rocky Mountains. Mount Shavano at 14,000 feet in elevation towers over other peaks. In the spring, melting snows reveal a shape that some call “The Angel of Shavano.” If looking south, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains can be seen. The Arkansas River that runs through the valley provides plenty of irrigation for ranching and crops.

  About three years ago, brothers Clive and Royce Bainbridge took ownership of the Prosperity Mine where silver is mined using labor-intensive methods. Raised by a father who owned a coal mine in England, they know the value of a loyal employee. When grumblings about Jubilee Springs not having enough women were heard, the Bainbridges took action and contacted the Colorado Bridal Agency in Denver.

  The brothers have built three-room row cabins which are available to the first ten men who marry. Arrangements have been made for Missus Lizett Millard to bring brides to the mining town for the Fourth of July weekend in 1881. Community events are planned to provide opportunities for the women and miners to get acquainted. Hopefully, each bride will make a selection and the lucky couples will marry on Monday, July 4th.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Spring 1881, Topeka, Kansas

  Chapter One

  Aurelia Northcliffe pressed a hand across the linen tablecloth to smooth away tiny wrinkles near Papa’s place setting. Everything must be just so when he arrived. He set such a store by everything looking perfect—including his daughters. Conversations hummed at a respectable and sedate tone. Even the clatter of sterling silver on bone china seemed muted. Noon on a Friday in The Continental Room of The Excelsior Hotel was a wonderful time to make their appearance.

  This semi-private corner of the dining room with a view onto the street over the window’s half curtain was Papa’s favorite. Polished wood trimmed the button-tucked velvet upholstery of the booth’s seating. Only with great restraint did she keep from checking her upswept bun for straggling tendrils. “Stop fidgeting, Rilleta. A well-bred lady presents an air of calm when in public.”

  “Sorry, Aurelia.” Rilleta let out a sigh and jammed her hands into her lap. “I know you accompany Papa to these lunches all the time, but this one is my first in so long.”

  A smile escaped Aurelia’s lips, a common occurrence when dealing with her wide-eyed younger sister who still wore her blonde hair with a back fall of ringlets. Maybe Rilleta had been allowed to linger in finishing school for too many terms. “I know, but decorum must be maintained.” Aurelia reached for her water glass and sipped as she scanned the street for her father’s imminent arrival. Heavy brocade swags covered the tops of the restaurant’s tall windows, and matching curtains accented the far edge of each private booth.

  His office at the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad Headquarters was only two blocks away. Last night at supper, he’d hinted about bringing his new assistant, Dwayne Sutton, who’d expressed an interest in being formally presented.

  Little did Papa know, she and Dwayne had met on more than one occasion for courting walks along the Kansas River. Aurelia nodded at the bank president, Mister Oakley, as a waiter seated him and a tall bespectacled man at a nearby table. A sense of contentment flowed through her. The finest restaurant in town was the exact place where a family of the Northcliffes’ social standing should dine.

  Today, she wore her favorite cream-colored gown with embroidered pink rosebuds that set off her fair skin and auburn hair. “Tell me your progress in packing for our trip to the Continent.” Earlier that morning, she’d assigned her maid to check her favorite gowns for loose buttons or hems. Only a day remained before they boarded the eastbound train that would deliver them to a ship for their two-month tour of England and France.

  “Already done. I held back my necessary toiletries and a dress for traveling.” Rilleta smiled, her cornflower-blue eyes shining.

  “Did you ascertain the gowns are in good repair?” Past her eighteenth birthday by only a few months, Rilleta often needed reminders about planning more than a single day’s activities. Careful about gawking, Aurelia let her gaze take i
n the surroundings. Tuxedoed waiters moved with quiet footsteps on the thick carpeting as they scurried to serve the patrons.

  Across the room, she spotted Mister Humphrey, Papa’s boss and the president of the railroad, with his much-younger wife, Millicent. Aurelia stiffened and narrowed her gaze. Really, the woman didn’t have the first inkling of fashion sense. Everyone knew one didn’t wear velvet gowns in daylight hours and certainly never in spring. A diamond bracelet for a luncheon was in the worst possible taste.

  “Excuse me, Miss Northcliffe.” A waiter stood next to their table holding a tray with a decanter and three cut-crystal glasses. “Would you like the cherry phosphate poured now?”

  “Yes, that will be all right.” She waved a hand toward the middle of the table. The new Prohibition regulations had stolen a bit of class and elegance from fine dining.

  “I wonder why Papa is late.” Rilleta scooted along the bench seat and leaned toward the window. “He always lectures me about punctuality.”

  Aurelia bit back a sigh. Did the finishing school teach her nothing? She waited until the waiter filled the glasses and then moved away. “Look without appearing to do so, dearest.” Sometimes, she felt more like a mother than a sister. Although five years had passed since their mama’s death, the loss came upon Aurelia at the oddest times.

  “Do you think I might have a taste?” Eyebrows winging high, Rilleta positioned her hand near the glass’s stem. “I know Papa likes us to wait…”

  “Of course.” Aurelia picked up her glass of the pinkish liquid and stretched out her hand to clink the edge of her sister’s glass. The resulting ting verified the provenance of quality Waterford crystal. “Cheers and best wishes on our wonderful summer trip.”

  “Santé.” Rilleta grinned after making the French salutation before drinking. She wrinkled her nose. “A bit bubbly.”

  “Papa doesn’t favor Prohibition, but Governor St. John had enough support to vote in the new restrictions.” She took a sip and enjoyed the tingling effervescence on her tongue.

  Rilleta gave an exaggerated eye roll. “I remember sitting through interminably long lectures from Miss Langston’s teachers on the virtues of temperance.”

  In the next moment, the atmosphere in the room changed—conversations quieted to hushed whispers, and the normal sounds of people eating ceased. After a quick glance around, Aurelia looked over Rilleta’s shoulder and sat straighter.

  Two imposing deputies with muscled arms crossed over their chests blocked the entrance to the dining room. A tall mustachioed man with a silver star pinned to his breast pocket strode across the carpet.

  One waiter approached, but the lawman held up a staying hand.

  The man’s squinted look was like a predator honing in on prey—serious and a bit scary. Her grip on the crystal trembled, and Aurelia set down her glass. Papa would not want them near any type of scandal, but from this location, she saw no clear path of escape. Shock grabbed her throat.

  The sheriff stopped next to the table where the Humphreys sat and bent his head a few inches from the well-dressed man with graying hair.

  “What’s wrong, Aurelia?” Frowning, Rilleta leaned forward. “Your eyes are as buggy as a toad’s.”

  “Shh, I want to hear.” Unwilling to be seen pointing, Aurelia jerked her head toward the encounter that drew everyone’s attention. A disturbance of this type was most unusual.

  “I will most certainly not.” Shaking his head, a pale-faced Mister Humphrey gripped the edges of his table.

  Gasps sounded all around the room, and people strained in their chairs for a better angle on the exchange.

  “Do you know who my husband is?” Millicent waved a plump hand, sunlight flashing off a huge ruby ring. “Leave us to our meal.”

  The sheriff wielded clanking metal shackles, and he clamped them to Mister Humphrey’s wrists. “Please stand, sir.”

  “No! Horace, do something.” Cheeks blazing a fiery red, Millicent screeched as she flapped her hands. “Make this odious man go away.”

  What did this mean? An arrest made in such a public setting was intended to garner attention. And provide humiliation. Aurelia grabbed the strings of her reticule and glanced across the table where her sister hung off the edge of her seat for a look. “Rilleta, we must leave now.”

  A loud thump rattled the window to her right.

  Gasping, Aurelia turned toward the noise and spotted Papa’s face smashed against the glass, his bowler hat askew. His shirt collar had popped loose and poked into graying mutton-chop whiskers.

  Two glowering men stood close behind him. One had a beefy hand clamped to Papa’s shoulder.

  Horror set her muscles quaking. First Mister Humphrey, and now Papa? Something is very wrong. She met his trapped gaze and watched his lips form a single word, Run. Disbelieving, Aurelia slumped against the back cushion and glanced away from her father’s stricken expression. Blood raced double-time through her body. A vague warning from many years ago about the need for an escape plan floated through her thoughts.

  Sudden movement across the street caught her attention. A thin man with a long-legged stride and churning arms moved in the opposite direction. A knot settled in her stomach. Dwayne, abandoning ship in the manner of all lily-livered rats. At twenty-three, she was running out of appropriate prospects to avoid spinsterhood. Disappointment sagged her body against the cushions.

  “No! Let him go.” Wide-eyed, Rilleta placed a hand on the window next to Papa’s face. “What are they doing to Papa?”

  “Hush, Rilleta. Not another word.” Aurelia shoved to her feet and tugged on her sister’s arm. “Grab your reticule.” Taking a deep breath to still her racing heart, she linked elbows with Rilleta and, head held high, wove a path through the tables toward the swinging kitchen door. Hopefully, they would reach the sanctuary it offered before being noticed.

  “But, we should be helping Papa.” Rilleta strained to look over her shoulder.

  “We cannot.” Aurelia gave her sister’s arm a most unladylike yank. “We must distance ourselves from this place and whatever problem has arisen.” She leaned close enough to whisper in Rilleta’s ear as they moved among wide-eyed cooks and gape-mouthed waiters on their scurry past the huge stove radiating heat. “Papa told us to run.”

  We need money—fast. Thoughts piled one on top of the other, like a frenzy of over-eager puppies. Since turning twenty-one, she’d been a co-signer on the household account. Her steps faltered. The bank president had witnessed Humphrey’s arrest, and soon he’d learn of Papa’s. The safe in Papa’s office.

  The back door opened onto an alley, and Aurelia drew in a grateful breath. They’d escaped the hotel. Now to get out among other pedestrians on the boardwalk and blend in. Holding her petticoated skirts out of the way, she dashed down the wooden steps.

  “Where are we going?” Glancing around with a wrinkled nose, Rilleta took her time on the rickety stairs. Her hat’s ostrich plumes rippled with every move.

  Aurelia lifted her hands and pulled out the single long hat pin.

  “Stop.” Rilleta clamped a hand on her hat. “You’ll ruin it.”

  “Remove it and toss it under the stairs. We can’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  “Must I toss this?” Rilleta twirls the hat in her hands.

  “Truly, you can’t keep it. We’ll get another just like it soon.” With a pang of regret, she reached up and removed her own flower-festooned creation Missus Dorchester completed just last week. “Now, hurry.” Aurelia dragged Rilleta along the dirt track between buildings and pointed to the steps at the side of Crowther’s Dry Goods. “Up there and stay close to the storefront.”

  “But Papa’s carriage is still parked at the hotel.”

  Rather than take precious time to explain, Aurelia strode as fast as her skirts allowed, and her manacle-tight grip on Rilleta’s elbow ensured her sister kept pace. Within two blocks, she knew this method was folly. Her corset kept her from taking deep enough breaths. Stopping at th
e next corner, she waved a lace handkerchief at an approaching hansom cab and all but shoved her sister inside.

  “Destination, miss?” The driver closed the door and rested a hand on the window frame.

  “Twin Oaks Estates on Riverfront Avenue. And hurry.” She slumped against the padded seat back and scanned the pedestrians through both windows. From her reticule, she pulled a silk fan and snapped it open before fluttering it before her warm face and neck. Seeing no one keeping pace on the boardwalk, she blew out a sigh.

  Rilleta grabbed her free hand and squeezed. “What will they do with Papa?”

  “I don’t know, but listen well.” Pressing against her sister’s shoulder, she forced her voice low. “When we arrive home, pack what you need for a few nights into your smallest portmanteau. Two carpetbags are better.”

  A shudder ran through Rilleta’s body. “But where are we going?”

  Her mind raced with getting her hands on enough money for traveling expenses. “To Auntie Gwen’s in Kansas City. Distance will provide safety. Maybe in Missouri we’ll escape whatever scandal has swallowed Papa.”

  If the authorities aren’t already waiting at our front door.

  Early Spring 1881, Jubilee Springs, Colorado

  Chapter Two

  Prosperity Mine’s subterranean air was cool, but sweat trickled down Declan McNeill’s back. The faded denim shirt clung to his skin. He swung the pickaxe at the rocky outcropping and heard a resulting crack. The jarring impact sent vibrations from his hands along his arms to his shoulders. A chunk the size of a small pumpkin broke off, providing him satisfaction. Now to repeat that same task dozens more times today.