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    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover: Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides, #4
    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover: Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides, #4
    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover: Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides, #4
    Ebook104 pages1 hour

    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover: Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides, #4

    By Kenneth Markson

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover A Historical Mail Order Bride Western Victorian Romance (Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides Book 4) is an action packed clean inspirational western romance. After her father has died, a desperate young woman becomes a mail order bride to escape poverty and the grip of San Francisco's notorious Barbary Coast. She heads to the silver boom of Virginia City, Nevada, hoping for a life with a widower. Then tragedy strikes. Will someone save her from the clutches of a greedy and lust filled criminal, and will she find the love that she yearns for? 

    If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy Kenneth's Redeemed series or the other books in the Rescued series; "Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rascal," "Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rogue," "Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rake," "Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Romantic," " Mail Order Bride: Rescued By Resolve," and "Mail Order Bride: Rescued By Hope."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKenneth Markson
    Release dateFeb 28, 2016
    ISBN9780986252815
    Mail Order Bride: Rescued By A Rover: Rescued Western Historical Mail Order Brides, #4
    Author

    Kenneth Markson

    While an English major at college, I wrote a column which was published weekly. I have been writing ever since. The old West and Los Angeles in the forties are eras which lend themselves to tales of romance, courage, and fast paced adventure. I particularly enjoy writing stories about the mail order brides who fearlessly took a chance and traveled West, hoping to find love and a better future. Many of the locales that I write about are places that I have either traveled through or actually lived in. I try to make my works richly accurate. My desire is to provide you with an entertaining and fun read. When I'm not writing, I enjoy spending time with my wife and two children.

    Read more from Kenneth Markson

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      Book preview

      Mail Order Bride - Kenneth Markson

      To my wife and children, always.

      Chapter 1

      There was a broad smile on Molly's face as she approached her residence on Perry Street in the South Market neighborhood of San Francisco.  A tall, ruddy faced man in his fifties stood at the entrance to the old building, as she went up the stairs. 

      You look happy, Molly, the man exclaimed with a smile. 

      Molly's voice brimmed with excitement.  She was a pretty, young woman of twenty-one, with long auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes. 

      I am, Uncle Jim, she replied happily. 

      Jim Wallace wasn't really her uncle.  For years, he had been her father's closest friend.  Mike Sawyer, Molly's father, had been the manager of a saloon, a few blocks north on Perry Street. 

      For most of her life, Molly had lived with her father, in cramped quarters above the saloon.  When Mike Sawyer unexpectedly dropped dead from a heart attack six months earlier, there was barely enough money for Molly to give him a proper burial.  The cold hearted owner of the drinking establishment quickly brought in a replacement, and had her vacate the upper room. 

      Rather than see Molly thrown out on the street, Uncle Jim offered her a small space in his dwelling, for as long as she needed it.  Molly decided then, that she would leave the poor neighborhood where she was known as the saloonkeeper's daughter.  She would seek a better life, in a new place.

      Molly put out a personal advertisement in the Matrimonial News seeking to be a mail order bride.  The newspaper served as an intermediary, forwarding her correspondence from several gentlemen, in response to her ad.  One letter, in particular, moved her to write back.

      John Richards had a ranch on the outskirts of Virginia City, Nevada, on which he farmed and raised cattle.  He described himself as a widower in his early thirties, six foot tall, with black hair and brown eyes.  He sought a kind and considerate partner as a wife, who would help him raise a fourteen year old daughter.

      The tone of John's initial letter touched Molly.  He seemed like the type of person she was looking for in a future husband.  She didn't mind living on a ranch, and helping parent a teenager as one of her own.

      Over the past few months, Molly and John had written to each other several times.  They exchanged photographs as well as correspondence.  Today, John's letter came with the request that Molly come to Virginia City to become his wife. 

      He sent her coach fare for a trip to Virginia City.  Her prospective groom proposed a short trial period, after which, if mutually agreeable, they would get married.  Should things not work out, John agreed to provide fare for a trip back to San Francisco.

      Jim Wallace read the letter that Molly shared with him.  The words were bittersweet.  He knew her since she was a toddler, and loved her like a niece.

      So you'll be leaving, Molly? he asked, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.

      Molly nodded.

      I'll be going tomorrow, Uncle Jim, she replied with a trace of sadness.  I can't keep living off of you.  You've done plenty already, and I know you can hardly afford it.

      You never were any bother, the older man replied.  It was always a pleasure.

      Molly gave him a hug.

      I'll miss you Uncle Jim, she said.  You've always been good to me.  But it's something that I have to do.

      The older man returned her embrace.  In his heart, he knew she was right.  There was a slight mist in his weary blue eyes as he spoke.

      You'll write to me, Molly, and let me know how things are going?

      Molly smiled.

      I'll write you often, Uncle Jim.

      The older man gave her a tender look.

      Your father would have been proud of you, Molly, he said kindly.

      Thank you for that compliment, she replied.  You were always his good friend.

      Molly went to her room, and started packing the few belongings that she had.  As she laid her clothing out on the small mattress, she felt her father's presence.  There wasn't a day that went by, that she didn't think of him.

      Molly never knew her mother.  Her mother had died when she was barely two.  She and her father had been very close. They struggled together, through thick and thin.  Even after six months, she still felt a pang in her chest, thinking of his loss.

      She sighed, as she folded her clothing and put it in her travel bag.  Her father had been a good man.  Everyone had liked him.  He had left her precious little, except for the greatest gift of all, his love.  That would be enough to help her through the perilous journey that she was about to begin.

      Chapter 2

      Lon Trent had always been a drifter.  He had never liked putting up stakes anywhere.  In the past, he had driven longhorn cattle up the Great Western Trail from San Antonio. 

      When he received his pay, he went on to San Diego, and worked for a rancher.  Growing restless, he moved north to Sacramento and toiled as a miner.  With the onset of winter, he fled like most did, to the warmer refuge of San Francisco.

      Lon was a tall, powerfully built man in his mid twenties, with dark, black hair, brown eyes, and an affable smile.  This evening, he wore a dusty, brown felt hat and jacket.  The jacket concealed a Colt which dangled from a gun belt by his side.

      Looking like a saddle tramp, was just the way Lon wanted it.  It paid to be inconspicuous when traversing the area of the city where he had been gambling earlier tonight.  This vile spot encompassing Pacific, Morton, and Kearney Streets was known as the Barbary Coast.

      Lon had a contented look on his face as he stepped out of a gambling hall on to Pacific Street.  Over the years, he had become quite skilled at playing cards.  His gambling prowess came in handy as a source of money during the winter months, when work was scarce.  Several hundred dollars rested in his pockets, as a result of a few hours labor.

      This three block section of Pacific Street was wall to wall with drinking establishments and gambling parlors.  There were dance halls, concert saloons with entertainment and dancing, melodeans, and the lowest of the dives, known as deadfalls.  The melodeans were

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