Chapter One
CREST STONE, COLORADOTerritory — May 1876
He needed a wife.
Roman Carlisle dug a spoon into the barely edible gruel. The dancing lamplight created shadows that hid the food in his bowl, which was likely a good thing. The horses in his livery stable had a better supper than this one.
“It turned out decent this time,” Jeremiah Wiley said with far more enthusiasm than Roman could pretend to muster.
Roman shoved another spoonful of the bland mush into his mouth. It crunched as he chewed, and he made a face into the shadows away from Jeremiah. It was either eat this or spend precious coins purchasing a meal. And when that money could be better spent on hay or a new horse or any number of other items, Roman would opt to stomach Jeremiah’s sad attempts at cooking.
The money he saved could also pay for an advertisement for a wife and the funds she needed to travel here.
Roman shoved the thought away and forced himself to scoop out the remainder of the gruel before telling Jeremiah he was going to check on the horses one last time before they turned in. They didn’t have many—not yet—but he’d only opened the livery a couple of weeks ago. The spring chill crept in around the newly built stable as he stopped by each stall. Most of the horses were boarded, but Roman owned three himself. He rented two of those out to anyone who needed a mount and had the funds to pay for one.
He paused by the makeshift desk near the front of the stable, where he sat and pulled the letter from his pocket again. It had arrived from Roman’s mother two days ago, and while it contained her usual news about his brothers and their wives and children, this one had stirred something inside Roman.
He wanted what his brothers had. A wife. And children. And a house.
It had been on his mind so much the last couple of days that he’d gone and measured the portion of his land behind the livery’s corral, curious how many rooms he could fit into a house back there. And then earlier today, he’d found himself watching three of the only children in the new little town running around the partially built church. And then later in the afternoon . . .
Roman’s face went warm as he remembered it. He’d stopped by the newly finished land office building and spoken with Jake Gilbert. Not about purchasing land or any number of things he might speak about to Gilbert. Instead, he asked him if it was true his wife was going to start up a mail-order bride advertising business.
He had to give Gilbert credit. The man Roman had only known for a couple of months hadn’t laughed at him or asked why he couldn’t find a girl on his own. In fact, Gilbert had grinned, slapped him on the back, and told him to stop by the room he shared with his wife at the Crest Stone Hotel tomorrow.
Now tomorrow was but a few hours away, and Roman didn’t have the remotest idea of what to expect. But if he didn’t turn yellow, he’d be on his way to having everything he wanted.
He’d no longer be a worthless cowboy, drifting and spending money as soon as he got it. He’d be a respectable businessman, with a wife and family. Every bit as good as his brothers.
#####
“TELL ME A LITTLE ABOUTyourself, Mr. Carlisle.” Mrs. Gilbert’s voice was soft and kind, and she gave him a reassuring nod as he settled himself into the chair beside a small desk.
Jake Gilbert had busied himself with some reading across the room, but Roman still felt on display. This entire situation was awkward, to say the least.
Mrs. Gilbert glanced at her husband, before turning her dark eyes back to Roman. “You aren’t the first man who’s asked to place an advertisement, despite the fact that Mrs. Young and I haven’t fully set up our business yet.”
“Mrs. Young?” He was new to the area, but Roman had met most of the men in Crest Stone. He didn’t recall a Young.
“She’s a dear friend of mine in Cañon City. Her husband is the county sheriff. We both collect advertisements, and then she will have them printed at the newspaper office there.”
“Ah, I see.” Roman shifted in his chair, wondering if it were too late to run for the door. Surely he could find some worthwhile woman if he spent some time in Cañon City.
Except that would mean leaving his livery for who knew how long, and that would be impossible if he wanted the business to survive. Jeremiah couldn’t run the place on his own. He either placed his advertisement with Mrs. Gilbert’s service and hoped for the best, or he waited around for a year or two in the hopes a single, respectable lady might arrive in Crest Stone. Of course, then he’d be competing with every other man in town.
“Considering this town is seeing more men every day,” Mrs. Gilbert said, “and most of the only eligible ladies around work in this hotel and aren’t allowed to be courted—”
“Didn’t much stop me,” Gilbert said from his seat in the corner.
His wife’s olive skin blushed a dark red. “Jake, you aren’t helping.”
He shot her a grin, and Roman was torn between wanting to be elsewhere and wishing for something exactly like these two had. He’d heard all about the Gilbert Girls working at the hotel’s restaurant—and had even been served by a few the handful of times he’d dined at the hotel’s lunch counter. They were friendly young women from places far more civilized than the rugged Colorado mountains, and whose livelihoods depended upon keeping spotless reputations.
Of course, he’d also heard that Jake Gilbert was somehow related to the family who owned the hotel and several others like it. Why a man of such means lived in a small room with his wife and worked at the land office in remote Crest Stone was a mystery. Roman imagined there was an interesting story behind Gilbert’s situation.
“Once the land office is more established, I’ll be able to set up business there. I imagine the men in town seeking wives will find it much more conducive to their privacy.” Mrs. Gilbert’s gaze slid to her husband, who smiled behind his book. “Now where were we?”
“You asked me about myself.” Roman shifted again. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to say. I run the livery, as you know. I come from a large family in Kansas City.”
