Prisoners of Love: Adelaide (Prisoners of Love - Mail Order Brides Book 1) Read online

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

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author.

  Author’s website: www.calliehutton.com

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition May, 2016

  Prologue

  "Dodge is the Deadwood of Kansas; . . . her principal business is polygamy without the sanction of religion; her code of morals is the honor of thieves, and decency she knows not.. . The employment of many citizens is gambling, her virtue is prostitution and her beverage is whisky. She is a merry town, and the only visible means of support of a great number of her citizens is jocularity."

  -- Hays City Sentinel, 1877

  Dodge City, Kansas

  April, 1877

  Adelaide Markham huddled, shivering, in the corner of the Dodge City jail cell. She’d never before seen the inside of a jail house in her entire life and was scared to death. The other women in the cell with her looked just as frightened, except the girl in the scanty saloon outfit who the marshal had just thrown in with them.

  Drawing her legs up, Adelaide rested her chin on her knees. How did she, a young woman of twenty-five, raised in a God-fearing, loving home by two doting parents, end up in jail? She jerked as gunshots went off outside the jail house. She hated Dodge City and wanted more than anything to get away.

  She thought of her snug little house about ten miles outside of the town, where she’d spent the most enjoyable years of her life. Until influenza took her husband, Gerald, and their sweet little girl, Mary. She wiped the tear that escaped the corner of her eye. She’d learned months ago that crying did nothing except give her a headache.

  “Marshal, when you gonna let us the hell out of here?” The saloon girl ran her shoe across the bars of the cell, making enough racket to block out the sounds from outside.

  “Shut up, Cinnamon,” a man’s voice called. “The Marshal left me in charge and I ain’t letting you out until he says so.”

  “Well, where did he go? He can’t just throw me in here and walk off. I demand to have my say.” She leaned against the door, gripping the bars. “And don’t call me Cinnamon.”

  “That’s your name, ain’t it? And there ain’t nothing to say. You hit the mayor over the head with a pitcher of beer.”

  “The old lecher deserved it!”

  “Shut up, girl. And settle down.”

  The girl, whose name was apparently Cinnamon—although she didn’t want to be called that—flounced over to the cot where Adelaide sat and plopped down, crossing her arms, pushing up her breasts dangerously high. She looked over at Adelaide. “What are you in for?”

  “Vagrancy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Having no job, no home, and no money.”

  “Well, hell, if you ain’t got a job, then there ain’t no way to have a home or money.” She adjusted the straps on her dress and tugged the neckline up. “My name’s Cinnamon O’Brien. But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll call me Cindy. What’s yours?”

  “Adelaide Markham.”

  “You look like what my ma used to call a ‘good, God-fearing woman.’ How’d you end up with nothing?”

  Adelaide cleared her throat, knowing it would hurt just uttering the words. “My husband and little girl died of influenza. Gerald was a gunsmith, and since I didn’t know the first thing about guns, I couldn’t keep his business going.”

  “Family?”

  “I’m an only child and my parents drowned right after Gerald and I were married. Their buggy went over the side of a bridge during a rainstorm.”

  Cindy reached out and touched her hand. “I’m so sorry, girl. You’ve had it hard, haven’t you?”

  Fighting the tears once again, Adelaide merely nodded. “I left my house and came to Dodge City. I got a job as a waitress, but having no experience, I didn’t last long. When I got fired I started living in an abandoned building. The owner told me I could stay if I um . . . ‘warmed his bed’ as he put it. When I refused, he had the marshal arrest me for trespassing. He said he would drop the charges if I reconsidered.”

  “Damn men.” Cindy looked over at the two other women sitting on the small cot against the opposite wall, watching the exchange. “What are y’all in for?”

  The brunette shrugged. “I worked with Doctor Snodgrass, selling medicine out of his wagon. I thought it was real good stuff. But it turns out it was just water he colored with beet juice. He skipped town and left me here. People filed complaints, so the marshal arrested me. I don’t know why, since I never got any of the money. Dr. Snodgrass took it all.”

  “Damn men. What’s your name?”

  “Becky Davidson.”

  Cindy gestured with her chin to the other woman. “What’s your story?”

  For a full minute the girl just stared at them. Finally, she wrapped her arms around her middle and whispered, “I killed a man.”

  ***

  Dodge City Marshal Dane Jones stood next to Nellie Ward, his arm draped casually over her shoulder as the two of them watched Nellie’s brothel burn to the ground.

  With no one available to help put out the fire, Dane had made sure all the girls were out before he took up his position next to Nellie. “Damn shame. You have the cleanest girls and the least watered-down whiskey in town.”

  A young whore wrapped in a silk robe walked up to them. “What are we gonna do now, Nellie? Where will we sleep tonight?”

  “I guess the marshal here will have to put us all up in the jail.”

  “I ain’t going to no jail,” the young girl huffed. “Margie at The Palace is always looking for girls, I’m going there and see if she can take me in.”

  “Me, too.” Two other whores joined the group, and before the last wall of the brothel had fallen in, all six of Nellie’s girls had left her standing there with the marshal.

  “Well, ain’t that the living end.” Nellie glared at their backs, her hands on her hips.

  Dane tucked a lock of hair behind Nellie’s ear. “Don’t worry. Once you get a new place set up, they’ll come back.”

  “No.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m too old to start over, Marshal.”

  “Too old? Hell, woman, you’re no more than forty.” Nellie was not only still young looking for her line of work, she was also a handsome woman with a fine figure who didn’t need all the face paint she used.

  “I’ve been in this business since I was fourteen. There are days I feel older than the Widow Charles, and she must be seventy if she’s a day.”

  Dane turned to her and gave her a slow smile, his mind working furiously. She could be the solution to a problem he’d been wrestling with all day. He continued to stare at her, the idea forming in his mind sounding better all the time.

  “Marshal, I don’t know why you’re staring at me like that, but it’s making me mighty nervous.”

  His grin grew wider. “Nellie, how fond of this town are you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make any difference to me where I plant my feet. In fact, Dodge City is getting too wild. Even for me. Why?”

  “I have four young women sitting in my jail right now.”

  “Four young women? In jail? Marshal J
ones, are you crazy?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and rocked back on his heels. “Probably, but I think I’ve come up with a solution on how to get rid of them, and help you at the same time.”

  “Why do I think I’m not going to like this?” she groused as he took her by the elbow and hustled her in the direction of the jail house.

  Chapter One

  Adelaide Markham’s head jerked up as a loud, rumbling voice shattered the silence in the Dodge City jail cell “All right, ladies. I want your attention.”

  Marshal Dane Jones stood in front of the steel bars that confined Adelaide and the three other female prisoners. He had a woman with him wearing a low cut red satin dress, dangly earrings, and face paint. She was a pretty woman, but obviously not someone from the church who’d come to minister to them.

  “This here is Miz Nellie Ward. Until about an hour ago, she was the owner of one of the finest brothels in Dodge City.” He smiled at the woman and continued. “The place just burned to the ground and all her girls left to work for another house.”

  Adelaide sucked in a breath. Dear God, the Marshal wasn’t going to suggest the women go to work for this madam? She’d rather starve on the streets before she offered her body for sale. Hadn’t being arrested already proven that?

  “What the hell is this about, Marshal?” Cindy said. “If you think I’m going to work for Nellie you’re crazy.” She nodded at the woman. “No offense, Nellie. It’s just that I ain’t got a hankering for spending my time flat on my back. That just about killed my mama.”

  “None taken,” Nellie said, her lips twitching.

  “Although that’s not why Nellie is here, missy, you might not be so quick to dismiss a job,” the marshal said. “Stuart stopped me on the way over here so I could tell you to turn in your dress, cause you’ve been fired.”

  “Well, hell. Ain’t that just like a man? Takes the mayor’s side in this, without even hearing what really happened.”

  “Forget it, girl. What I have to say to you—” his eyes swept over the other three women behind bars. “All of you—is I have a proposal.”

  Adelaide swallowed nervously. What in heaven’s name did the marshal have in mind for a widow, a saloon girl, a murderer, and a snake oil salesman?

  “Since Nellie’s place just burned down, she has nowhere to go. All of you are a burr under my saddle. I can’t have women in my jail, but none of you have a job or a place to stay.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “So this is the deal. There’s a wagon train right now at Fort Dodge from Independence that’s headed to Santa Fe, New Mexico territory. Now I happen to know there are plenty of men down that way looking for wives.”

  Adelaide gasped. “Marshal, surely you’re not suggesting . . .”

  “Yes, ma’am I am suggesting. You gals will either get on that wagon train with Nellie here as your chaperone, or wait until the circuit judge comes around when he sobers up. He’ll be so blasted hung over, he’s liable to send y’all off to the state prison.”

  “That’s outrageous. You can’t force us to marry strangers.” The one who had said she was involved with Dr. Snodgrass clutched the cell bars, her knuckles white.

  “No, ma’am, you’re probably right. I can’t do that. But what I can do is leave you sitting here until old Judge Bailey makes his appearance. Sometimes we don’t see him for six months.”

  “I’m willing.” The murderer said, again her voice barely above a whisper.

  Adelaide stepped back until her legs hit the cot, then she sat. Married? To a stranger?

  What choice do I have? The last time I felt secure was when I was married to Gerald. But marriage means children, and I can’t do that again. I can’t love a child only to lose it. Perhaps one of the men in Santa Fe will be old enough to not want children.

  “When do we have to decide?” Cindy wanted to know.

  “Now.”

  “Well, lordy be, marshal, you sure don’t believe in giving a gal a whole lot of time to decide. And how will we get the money to buy supplies and a wagon?” She waved at the other ladies. “As you just said, we don’t have a penny between us.”

  “I’ll have the town pay for it. I’m behind on collecting the monthly operating fees from the saloons and brothels.” He dismissed his seizure of the town’s funds with a mere wave of his hand.

  “There is no time for y’all to decide on this. The wagon train will be pulling out tomorrow. Nellie has to get a wagon ready to go this afternoon. I can send word to the wagon master to hold up for maybe another day but that’s about it.”

  He fisted his hands on his hips and glared at them. “Now what will it be?”

  The four women looked at each other. Adelaide shrugged. “I don’t see that we have a whole lot of choice.”

  Adelaide awoke the next morning confused. For the first time in weeks she was in a warm, soft bed. She glanced sideways at the woman snoring softly alongside her. Blinking against the sun streaming through the window, her memory returned with a jolt.

  Gerald and Mary were dead. She had no home, no money, and no job. She’d been arrested, and was now, this very day, headed to Fort Dodge to join up with a wagon train traveling to Santa Fe. There she was expected to marry a stranger. She and three other women prisoners. Added to the ridiculous circumstances, they were being chaperoned by the madam of a burned-down brothel.

  Adelaide eased out of bed and quickly washed and dressed. She had to give herself time to consider what she was doing.

  Last night, exhausted from a lack of sleep and food, she ate a meal paid for by the town, then collapsed into this bed and fell into a deep sleep. A brisk walk in the morning air would clear her head.

  She strode down the empty boardwalk, past businesses just beginning to open, to the end of town, and then crossed over and walked back toward the jail house. A few shopkeepers swept the area in front of their stores. Some nodded to her, but most kept their heads down and focused on their work.

  Her mind made up, she would tell the marshal she’d decided against his plan, and would spend the entire day looking for work. Surely somewhere in this town a body was needed to fill a job. The vision that popped into her mind had her breaking into a sweat.

  No. I won’t do that. I would marry a stranger first.

  “Good morning, Marshal.” She smiled brightly as she entered the jail.

  “Morning, ma’am. Are you packed and ready to go?”

  Adelaide took a deep breath. “Well, about that—“

  Before she could continue, the door opened and a man entered. Tall and muscular, he had reddish brown hair that fell over his forehead once he removed his hat. He twisted the Stetson in his hands as he regarded her and the marshal. He swallowed several times, and seemed to consider his words before he spoke. “Good morning, Marshal.”

  “Morning. What can I do for you?”

  He glanced briefly at Adelaide and then turned his attention to the marshal. “I’m with the wagon train out at Fort Dodge. We’re pulling out tomorrow, but Easton Drover, the wagon master, told me you will be sending mail order brides to Santa Fe with our group.”

  “That’s right.” He turned to Adelaide. “This here’s one of them.”

  He nodded in her direction. “I’ll take her.”

  “What?” Adelaide and the marshal said at the same time.

  ***

  Miles Ryan licked his dry lips and stared at the young woman standing next to the marshal, her eyes wide. No doubt with shock. He was pretty shocked himself, and he’d uttered the words. But if he wanted to continue with the wagon train he needed a wife, and this one looked presentable enough.

  A bit more on the slender side than he preferred, nevertheless, she was pretty and had a nice smile. Until he offered to marry her, then her smile turned to a frown.

  When the marshal had visited with the group, he’d said the women were in jail for minor crimes and he needed them out of his hair. Easton agreed to hold the gr
oup over for one more day to wait for the women to join them. If they were to be mail order brides, Miles wanted to make sure he got one right away. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s actually wrong.” The marshal scratched his day-old beard. “But I think the young lady here might have something to say about it.”

  “Well, miss?” Miles turned to the girl who stared at him, her mouth forming a perfect circle. Now that he’d gotten the words out, he took a closer look at her and felt a tightening in his lower parts, which confused him. Eve’s death three months ago, and his added responsibilities as the sole parent of his daughters had killed any desire he’d felt for a woman. Not that he’d been so madly in love with his wife. His parents had pushed him to marry her, and while their marriage had been satisfactory, it certainly hadn’t been a great love match.

  Shortly after the last clump of dirt had fallen on her grave, his parental duties had consumed him, leaving little chance to think of his own needs.

  “I thought we were to travel to Santa Fe first, and become mail order brides when we got there?” The young lady chewed her lip and cast an anxious glance at the marshal.

  The marshal shrugged. “Don’t make no difference to me. You can marry up with this here fellow right now, and be done with it.”

  The woman backed up a step and shook her head, the blonde curls that had escaped her bun bobbing against her face. “I don’t know.”

  He didn’t want to terrify the poor girl. She looked as if she was about to bolt out the back door. “Look, miss. Pardon, what is your name?”

  “Mrs. Adelaide Markham.”

  “Widow?”

  She nodded.

  “My name is Miles Ryan.” He hesitated for a moment, and then stuck his hand out. She stared at it for a moment then gingerly took it.

  “Why don’t we walk over to the hotel and get a cup of coffee? Or breakfast? Have you eaten yet?”

  Adelaide shook her head. He extended his arm, waiting patiently as she examined his limb as if she expected it to jump up and bite her. Finally, she took his arm and they left the jail house. He maneuvered her toward the hotel he’d passed on his hurried ride into town. He was desperate to get this woman away from the suspicious looks the marshal threw him. Desperation fit his situation perfectly. He had to get Mrs. Markham’s consent to marry him.