The Blessed Bride Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  The Blessed Bride

  Brides of Blessings #1

  Lynn Winchester

  The Blessed Bride

  Copyright 2017 by Danica Sorber w/a Lynn Winchester

  All rights reserved.

  This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This book may not be replicated, re-sold, uploaded to the internet, tampered with, or given away without the express written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination and are used for purposes of creating a story. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Evelyne LaBelle.

  To my California family, the people who raised me and loved me—blood or not.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to Blessings, California…

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  About the Author

  Also by Lynn Winchester

  Exclusive sneak peek at Blessed Beyond Measure…

  Acknowledgments

  A huge “Thank you” to the other ladies who’re taking this journey with me; Kari Trumbo, Heather Blanton, Mimi Milan, and Dallis Adams. You ladies have made this series into a family project, and I cannot wait to celebrate its success with you!

  Welcome to Blessings, California…

  Beautiful, majestic, powerful, strong, dangerous…the wilds of California are as incredible as the women who helped tame them. As historical romance authors, we’ve written about those ladies who embody the same characteristics as the land they claimed while shaping the lives of those around them. However, we wanted something different than the usual mail order brides’ series. We wanted to focus on women who weren’t looking for marriages, instead forging through hardships to set down roots in California with their families. These pioneers would be independent, hard-working, and not so easy to romance. Likewise, the men in this series are from all walks of life. They have come west seeking redemption, fortunes and new beginnings.

  The sparks fly and hearts burn bright when our heroines meet their match, ensuring Blessings will feel the weight and strength of their love. A sweet series, our readers can crack open the pages, knowing they are in for a charming romance that will bring heat to their cheeks and gladness to their souls.

  As grateful authors and avid readers, we thank you for joining us in our Gold Rush adventure. May you fall in love with our little mining town and the people who fill her with Blessings.

  Happy reading & many blessings,

  Lynn, Kari, Heather, Mimi & Dallis

  Prologue

  Winslet Claim

  Sixty-four Miles Northeast of Culloma, California

  1848

  Atherton Winslet tipped his tin cup to his lips and took a long sip of the black mud his wife had brewed. It was bitter, thick, and kicked him square in the jaw. Just like he liked it. Standing at the porch post of the small, one room cabin he’d just finished two weeks before, he stared out over the land laid out before him like a great, green blanket, rolling, dipping and rising as the verdant mountains reached into the sky. As the sun rose over the evergreens, it seemed to set fire to everything it touched; fiery reds, glowing oranges, and burning yellows lit the world, setting his heart ablaze with its beauty.

  It was a blessing; to be breathing the crisp mountain air, to taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, to feel the beat of his heart in his chest, and to look out over the land that would provide for him and his family. Land that had already provided him with enough gold to purchase four more claims and the land around them. It was his…everywhere his gaze landed was his land. And he couldn’t be prouder. Or more overwhelmed.

  “Looks to me like you’re thinkin’ too hard,” his wife, Millie, said from behind him as she came to join him on the porch.

  He chuckled, then rubbed at the wiry length of white beard, reaching down from his chin to the second button on his shirt. “I can’t help it, Millie. What am I s’posed to do with all this land?”

  “Well now, you make it sound like a difficult decision. Let’s make this place the home we’ve been dreamin’ of since leavin’ Albany, Winnie,” Millie responded, using the pet name she’d given him more than forty years ago when they’d first met. Back then, it was meant as a dig at him but, as their care for one another deepened, it became an intimate and loving show of affection.

  He smiled down at his wife of thirty-five years. She was short, just up to the tip of his beard, plump, with fading brown hair that had gone white over her ears, and piercing hazel eyes that often turned to liquid fire when she was angry at him. Lord, but she was fierce…and he loved her all the more for it.

  Their lives together hadn’t been easy. When they’d first met in Albany, he’d been a piss poor bootblack who didn’t have enough money to buy his own boots. Millie, Mildred O’Hare back then, was the fiery, too smart daughter of a traveling preacher. They moved into a small shack on the other side of the town, but she often made the trip into town for supplies, and see about finding work. He’d literally run into her one of those days, when she’d come to the bakery where he’d set up his shoeshine stand. He’d just spent his last two pennies on a strawberry tart, and Millie was rushing through the door with her mind on cookies and hot cocoa. They collided, and he dropped his costly tart onto the floor.

  She didn’t seem too upset by his loss. And after one look into her eyes, he wasn’t too upset about his lost tart neither. Her pink cheeks, lush lips, and glimmering eyes were a much sweeter treat than any tart could ever be. He’d asked her a’courtin’ that second and they’d been together ever since. She was his other, better half, the piece of him that made the most sense, and brought about the greatest joy. Millie stuck with him through every harebrained scheme, failed business venture, and long, backbreaking journey. She’d chosen him, had clung to him, had lifted him, standing beside him to hold him up when he was in danger of falling forever. When he’d decided to take the months’ long wagon train ride west, she’d raised a single eyebrow, planted her hands on her hips, and asked, “How much time do I have to pack?”

  And now, God had seen fit to bless them both because of her faithfulness. At least, that’s how he saw it. “I s’pose I can let folks know there’s some land to settle on. Send word down to Sacramento that there’s gold in the mountain here. That’ll bring in a rush, for sure.”

  Millie grunted, nodding. “Sure would, though, I ‘spect you’l
l need someone trustworthy to watch over things for you, make sure no one gets outta hand.”

  Atherton rubbed his beard again, a wholly unconscious movement he often did when deep in troubling thought. “I s’pose you’re right, Millie.”

  “I know I am,” she retorted, taking his now empty tin cup from him. “No time like the present to get things done, Winnie.” He knew she was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to let anyone else take hold of the reins just yet, not when he’d just gotten a hold of them himself. For the first time in his sixty-five years, he had an outlook on a future that didn’t end with him on his knees, begging for a chance at something better. This was his something better; he had Millie, four grown children out making their own fortunes, his health, his land, his mines, and all the gold within them.

  Lord, but he was blessed.

  Atherton and Millie stood on the porch, together, staring out at the green and brown and blues before them. They were silent, but the world in front of them was alive with birds twittering, the rushing of water in the high creek, and the buzz of insects as they moved from flower to flower, busily going about their work. It was a land of beauty, a land of something truly precious…

  As if reading his thoughts, Millie murmured, “What a blessin’…” She sighed, her eyes bright, and the smile on her face softening her features.

  “Yes, it is.” A God-fearing man, Atherton knew he hadn’t found that vein of gold in the mountain simply because he was good at prospecting. He’d been a prospector for more than ten years, looking for gold in Montana and copper in Arizona—then gold in Montana, again. He’d made enough to feed himself, his wife, and their four children, but he hadn’t ever truly struck it rich, not like the folks moving into California. So, as if pushed by an unseen hand, he and Millie packed up their meager belongings and they hoofed it to a stretch of untouched land just northeast of where James W. Marshall found gold right outside Sutter’s Mill. It took some backbreaking work to find a place in the mountain that would yield any yellow but, once he did, it was like a windfall of God’s sovereignty—he’d found four more motherlodes in the same mountain. It seemed like God had finally given His faithful follower a hand up. And now he didn’t know what to do with it, not really. He was a humble man of humble means and conservative tastes. All he needed were four walls, a full belly, and a warm pair of arms to fold into each night. He had all those things. But now, he could build something, perhaps a lot of somethings. Perhaps, he could fill this lonely yet breathtaking place with people all looking for their own piece of home.

  Another moment of silence stretched out between them as if their view had stolen their ability to speak. Not that he had much else to say; he was too focused on all he needed to accomplish to fulfill his quickly growing list of plans and ideas. First, he needed to hire a man to guard his claims. Maybe see if he could find himself a group of men to do the job. Then, he needed to send back east for Edward Farnsworth, one of his oldest and most trusted friends. That man knew more about the law than the people who wrote it. He’d be ideal for keeping track of the claims, the land around them, and making sure every man looking for a piece of his own heaven could find it. Just like Atherton had. But then, he still couldn’t stomach giving that much of the power to another man. Maybe he was more selfish than he thought. He scratched his head, wondering how long he could go before needing a man like Farnsworth.

  How difficult was it, really, to manage the land and the claims? He knew how to read, to count…he could do it. Right? For the first time in a long time, uncertainty reared its ugly head, staring at him with beady eyes and a slavering sneer.

  “What’ll you call it?” Millie asked, pulling him from his thoughts. And boy was he thankful for that.

  It didn’t take long for Atherton to decide on a name that encompassed what he truly felt about what God had given him, and what he, in turn, could give to others.

  “Blessings,” he answered, grinning.

  Millie grinned back and laughed. “That’s a good name, Winnie.”

  Atherton Winslet threw his arm over his wife’s shoulders and pulled her into his side, where she belonged. He kissed the top of her head and she giggled. He laughed with her, his happy cackles coming out in raspy wheezes. After a few moments of merriment, they fell silent, again taken with the view of the trees, the sun rising over the mountains, and the stretch of land he still couldn’t believe was his.

  Taking a deep breath, he filled his chest with crisp air, scented with evergreen. “Blessings, California…home.”

  Chapter 1

  Blessings, California

  May 29th, 1850

  Please, let him be here. Please, let him be here…

  What was she thinking? For the—it seemed like—thousandth time, she walked up to a complete stranger in the street, her hope in her throat, fear pecking away at her purpose. Tapping the man on the shoulder, she cleared her throat. Grunting, he turned, his florid face and annoyed expression flattening out into a quite hideous grin.

  “Oy, is there somethin’ you be needin’ from Ol’ Jimmy?” The man’s voice was like the sound of a landslide, tumbling rocks, clacking against each other.

  She fought the urge to pinch her nose and grimace at the man before her. And it didn’t help that the man’s eyes were too close together, or that he was staring at her like a starving wolf eyeing a helpless ewe lamb.

  Straightening her shoulders, she gripped her carpetbag all the tighter, and squared her chin. Please, let him be here… “I’m looking for my da. He’d be about my height, thin as a rail, and he’d speak with an accent you probably haven’t heard before.” An accent much like the one she’d had before attending deportment school in London for three years. Living under the iron hand of Mistress Eloise nearly starched the Eire right out of her! “His name is Liam O’Connor, an Irishman. He’s probably looking for work in the mines.”

  The creature before her grunted again, scratching the black and gray beard framing his double chin. “Well, I don’t know nothin’ about no Irishman lookin’ for work. Then again, I ain’t been the sociable type. I reckon you could find out more iffin you asked someone else.”

  Ask someone else…she’d already asked more men than she ever cared to meet. She was running out of men to ask and places to look.

  “Who should I ask?” She was grasping at the wind, but she couldn’t give up. She was close, she could feel it. If her da wasn’t here, she couldn’t be that far behind him. She refused to believe she’d failed, yet again.

  Ol’ Jimmy grunted again, and curled his lip. “I s’pose I can tell you…iffin you ask real nice like…”

  Immediately understanding the disgusting man’s meaning, she flinched.

  “I think I’ve been nice enough so far. I think I’ll ask around for myself, thank you,” she replied sharply, bristling at the man’s suddenly narrow eyes.

  “Ye’re not gonna last ten minutes in any town, walkin’ round, invitin’ trouble.”

  Lord, how she knew that. She knew the dangers of traveling alone, of riding into a new town—a complete unknown, each and every time. But she didn’t have a choice. Her da needed her, and she needed to find him.

  Fighting the sickening crush of disappointment, Patience O’Connor frowned at the man even now turning to walk away. He was just as filthy from the back as he was from the front, covered in dust and patches of mud made from grime and sweat. His salt and pepper beard was greasy, and the hair she could see from under his miner’s hat hung in lank tendrils around his puffy face. He was the twentieth such man she’d seen since arriving in the small yet bustling gold mining town nestled in the Sierra Nevadas.

  It wasn't the first gold mining town Pati had stumbled into, muddy and exhausted. Since her da's disappearance ten months ago, she'd traveled to twenty-three different towns; across the Atlantic from Galway, and then from New York City to Culloma. With little more than a short goodbye letter from her da, saying he’d gone to America to find his fortune in New York, she’d
crossed an entire ocean, hoping to stop him before he’d gone too far. Then, after landing at Ellis Island, she’d met a family from Belfast who’d said they’d spoken with her da, and that he was headed to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. By the time she’d gotten there, he’d already left—but it had taken three weeks to find that scant trace of him. After that, she’d found passage on a stagecoach to Cincinnati, in Ohio. It had been a long, bumpy, exhausting journey. And she’d hoped that once she got there, she’d find her da.

  No such luck.

  From Cincinnati, she’d paid a large sum, which took nearly all of the money she had remaining, to join a ten wagon-long train headed west to California. She’d hoped that she could stop and ask after her da in the settlements and forts along the way. But after each mile stretched behind her, her hope of finding her da dwindled. Each patch of land began to look like the last. The thirst, the hunger, the wearying work, the fear of imminent Indian attack…it had been the longest, most trying journey of her life. But she’d survived it. She’d survived the hellish expanse of the Forty Mile Desert, a place so hot and barren that Pati had imagined hell could be no worse. Week after week, Pati endured, nursing her faith, forcing herself to believe that her da was just over the next ridge, just past the next pool of poisoned water. She believed that he was just out of reach but could be reached, if she just traveled the next ten miles, the next fifty miles, the next two hundred miles.