BACKCOUNTRY BRIDE (CHAPTER 1)

PROLOGUE

WYOMING 1893

It didn’t surprise Warren Riley that his older brothers were boycotting his wedding.

Not after they’d voiced their disapproval of his decision to anyone who would listen. And in a town as small as Calvin, Wyoming, that was everyone.

But what caught Warren off guard, as he ambled down main street’s boardwalk to meet his bride at the train station, was how deeply their absence cut him.

If pressed, his brothers would have reasonable excuses at the ready. A calving heifer required care. A section of fence needed repair. Cattle had to be rounded up.

But that’s all they would offer him. Excuses.

Instead of the truth.

That no matter how many years he faithfully poured his share of back-breaking labor into the family homestead… as the youngest, he’d always be the baby who needed their protection and permission.

He’d been foolish to hope they would support him, even if they didn’t agree with him.

No matter.

There came a point in every man’s life, where his choices had to be his own. For better or worse, Warren was ready to step out from under the long shadow his brothers cast and forge his own path, on his terms.

And his pa, God rest his soul, had expected this eventuality.

Why else would the old man leave a clause in his will that allowed his sons to cash out their stake in the ranch, provided they were wed by twenty-five?

Regardless of his brothers’ experiences, not every marriage had to result in a love match. A civil, manageable, marriage of convenience was all his heart desired.

Fortunately for him, one Mildred Brown of Philadelphia, had been amenable to the arrangement proposed in his ad.

Miss Brown would gain her independence and be provided for, and Warren would get the capital from his inheritance to fund his outfitting and gaming venture.

Providing the frontier experience for wealthy gents who had more money than hunting skills, or sense, was the next land rush and Warren aimed to stake his claim.

As he strolled past Hyer’s General Store, a glimpse of his reflection in the front window caused him to pause.

The man that stared back at him was wild, untamed. His Stetson did little to hide his unkempt hair. While his overgrown beard concealed his face.

The jangle of the bell above the store door didn’t provide enough warning to move, and Warren found himself in the way of Calvin’s most notorious gossips, as they exited the shop.

If he tipped his hat without making eye contact, maybe he could avoid—

“Mr. Riley, what a treat!” Mrs. Stott’s shrill greeting attracted the attention of several townsfolk, and effectively halted his escape. Her companion, Mrs. Bennett, tutted, “Indeed. Not often we see you taking a turn in town.”

“Good day for it.” Warren offered simply. He’d learned the hard way if a person gave the busybody an inch, she’d take a country mile.

He still didn’t know how he’d been wrangled into escorting Kitty Bennett to the church’s picnic last spring. Or how he could have broken poor Kitty’s heart in the one brief outing.

But the doors of Bennett’s Leather Goods, Cobbler, and Saddlery, had been closed to him ever since. And ordering gear from Cheyenne, hadn’t been cheap.

“Your prize roses are looking lovely as always, Mrs. Stott.” Warren may not know much about women, but in going on the offensive with these two… He’d had a lot of practice.

The barber’s wife preened at the praise, but Mrs. Bennett wasn’t finished exacting her pound of flesh. “One look at you and your bride is gonna run off, mark me.”

A whistle in the distance announced the inbound train was a couple miles out, and Warren took that as his opportunity to retreat.

With a tip of his hat and what he hoped was a neutral, “Ladies,” he took his leave.

“My husband’s chair was open when I stepped out if you change your mind…” Mrs. Stott’s holler followed him down the boardwalk.

A robust laugh that could only belong to Danna O’Grady, the town’s Marshall, drew him to the jailhouse porch. “Smooth, Casanova.”

“Bout as smooth as a porcupine, I reckon.” Warren replied. “Afternoon, Miss Marshall.”

Warren had a healthy respect for the woman who’d filled the lawmen’s post after her first husband was killed. He’d even admit a touch of envy for Chas, Danna’s second husband and current Deputy.

Maybe the idea of marriage wouldn’t chafe him so bad if he could meet a woman of her mettle. But women like her were few and far between. And even harder to come by.

No, being a paper-husband suited him just fine.

“All set to hit the trail?” Chas emerged from the jailhouse, his daughter Minnie, on his hip.

“Near abouts.”

With his first group of sportsmen due in a few days, he’d borrowed against his share of the ranch to supply the provisions and cover the cost of the packhorses and saddle horses needed for the expedition.

All he needed to do now was marry his bride and the bank would settle the accounts.

Minnie, a precocious and delightful toddler was grabbing for her ma. Chas passed her to Danna as he drawled, “Shame about Baker. Know he’s real sorry.”

“What about Pete?” Warren had a fondness for the son that Chas’s sister, Erin, and her husband, Jesse, had adopted.

Over the past few years, the boy had grown into an avid outdoorsman and a capable horseman. Though still in his teens, Pete Baker had a work ethic that was uncommon among his peers.

It had been a relief for Warren when Pete had agreed to sign on as his camp cook.

With that many tenderfoots needing babysitting out in the bush, he’d been counting on Pete’s skills to help make his first hunting expedition a success.

“Entire family down with the flu. They’re in rough shape. Should be back on his feet by next week. But he sure took it hard having to let you down. Sorry to be the one to tell ya.” Danna answered with a look at her husband. “We thought they’d sent word to the homestead.”

Warren struggled to conceal his disappointment. And dug deep to offer the expected niceties. “Hope they’re on the mend soon.”

“You run into any trouble out there, don’t be shy bout sending for help.” Dana offered.

Warren nodded his thanks as Chas motioned toward the train station, “Still don’t know how you sweet-talked a city miss to live on her own at the boardinghouse while you’re off traipsing the woods.”

Warren grinned, “She got a good look at my photograph and that’s all it took.”

Danna shooed him. “Go on. Don’t be late to your own wedding.”

With a nod Warren turned from the happy couple and made his way to the simple platform erected in front of the tracks.

As he leaned against the shack that served as the small town’s ticket counter, he gnawed on the problem that losing Pete on the trail presented.

Instead of the fact that in less than an hour he’d be getting hitched, and his brothers couldn’t be bothered to show up for it.

***

Her adoptive Pa Sully would thrash her good for what she’d left behind, and for what she was about to do, but his abrupt disappearance had left Millie Brown no choice.

Outside her train car window, the sprawling land sped by under the expansive cobalt sky. Tall grasses covered the rolling plains. But her gaze was fixed on the mountain range standing sentinel in the distance.

“Next stop, Calvin!”

The conductor announced as he passed through the train car. A loud cheer from the group of gentlemen seated at the other end jolted Millie’s seatmate awake.

The weight of the elderly woman’s head lifted off Millie’s shoulder, which had served as a pillow for the past hour. Not that Millie was complaining.

She’d been grateful for the reprieve from the woman’s long gusted, and unsolicited, marital advice. “Pardon, dearie. Musta dozed off.”

Millie was impressed the woman had slept through the ruckus the sportsmen, as they’d loudly been referring to themselves, had been making.

By the look of their tailored suits, bankers, and lawyers the lot of them. They had likely never seen a bull elk in person much less tried to take one down. Though that didn’t stop them from bragging about the size of the game trophies they’d be hauling home.

Greenhorns. Wouldn’t last a night on their own in the fiercely breathtaking and lethal backcountry she’d once called home.

Next to her, wrinkled hands fluttered around the elderly woman’s grey bun, smoothing escaped curls. The motion reminded Millie of a yellow warbler’s wings and she smiled. A rarity for her lately.

“Oh, I’ve ruined your pretty frock!” The sun-spotted hands now flitted against Millie’s shoulder as the elderly woman lamented, “And on your wedding day, no less!”

Millie spared a glance at the emerald travelling dress and spotted the drool that had caused the woman to fuss. Unbothered, she shrugged, “Spit comes out easier than blood.”

A huff from one of the women on the bench across from them, accompanied by a “Well, I never…” from the other.

Right. Millie always forgot.

Some thoughts she wasn’t supposed to say out loud. Most thoughts, according to polite society.

Despite two years at the finest finishing school in Philadelphia, and her best efforts for Pa Sully’s sake and the gold he’d paid, some habits were harder to quit than others.

Speaking her mind, chief among them.

“I’ll just go freshen up.” Millie scooped the handle of her valise and stood. Giving herself a moment to adjust to the movement of the train.

Above her, gilded chandeliers swayed. The heels of her boots sunk into the plush carpet as she approached the washroom.

Millie entered and snicked the door shut. A downshift in the train’s momentum momentarily threw her. They were getting close.

She opened the valise and pulled out a woolen shirt, denims, and more serviceable boots.

Getting the buttons on her dress unfastened was irritating but quickly accomplished.

With relief she discarded the constrictive garment and put on clothes that felt more like a second skin to her.

As she pulled the pins out of her chignon and combed her tresses with fingers, Millie couldn’t ignore the tinge of guilt that pricked her conscience.

The homesteader who’d paid her passage, would be expecting a proper lady to disembark from the train. From their correspondences he’d seemed like a decent sort.

But Millie had no desire to become any man’s biddable wife.

And finishing school had only reinforced that she would never be a proper lady.

Weaving her hair into a singular braid, she could admit she regretted her need to deceive the man. But when Pa Sully’s letters had stopped arriving three months back, the funds had too. Leaving her destitute and without options in the city.

Worried about the old hermit gunslinger who’d been the only real family she’d ever known.

When she’d seen the ad for a bride that included train fare to Calvin, a town a day’s walk to the Laramie mountains... Well, it had seemed like providence was reaching a helping hand out to her.

Telling her to go home. To find Pa Sully.

She prayed the man would forgive her deception.

And she vowed to repay the traveling costs.

Once she knew Pa Sully was alright, she’d trap and trade some furs. Clear the debt.

The homesteader may be upset now, but better that, than be married to a woman who could never abide sleeping under the same roof for the rest of her life.

Not when a canopy of infinite stars could be her cover instead.

The clack of the train’s wheels were slowing.

Millie lifted her old duster from the valise. The only remnant of her life before Pa Sully had rescued her. A reminder of the helpless, dependent, little girl she would never allow herself to be again.

Her fingers traced the copper stain she hadn’t tried too hard to remove. It had become her favorite color. Freedom.

She donned the coat. Wishing she’d been able to procure a pistol and Stetson, but both had been beyond her means, and reach, in Philadelphia.

Instead, Millie tucked her faithful hunting knife inside her boot and settled in to wait.

Once the train stopped, and with any luck, she’d slip out the side car door and make her way through the plains before anyone thought to ask where the mail-order bride had disappeared to.

And by then, Millie would be deep in the bush. Once she hit the mountains, no one could move faster, or track better, than she could.

Well, no one except Pa Sully. He’d taught her everything she knew about surviving.

Which was why his disappearance was eating at her.

Something was wrong. Millie knew it in her gut.

As the train screeched to a halt; she didn’t spare a second thought for her would-be groom. Focused instead, on where to start trying to pick up Pa Sully’s trail. Praying that she wasn’t too late.

​

~~~

W.A. Author Note: This chapter is a WA original scribble but set within the already established fictional world of Calvin, Wyoming a part of the incredibleLacy Williams' Wind River Heart Series. As such, I wanted to note that this is "fan-fiction" i.e. all of the town's characters, stores, & setting (with the exception of Millie & Warren) belong to Lacy Williams' franchise.

I had the honor of playing in this world's sandbox for the publishing competition I mentioned previously. And while I was not selected to become a co-author, for reasons I fully respect, I did enjoy the exercise of writing this chapter and outlining the bigger novel plot for Millie & Warren, and wanted to share it with y'all.

I debated revising it to change character names/roles, etc but really it didn't feel right without the original perimeters it was written in. So I thought I'd share as-submitted with this endorsement:

If you enjoyed this scribble, I highly recommend purchasing/reading any and all ofLacy Williams' seriesas her novels are wonderfully written, action-packed, and truly heartwarming. And if you're like me, it's a major score to find 50+ novels that consistently deliver dynamic characters and a wonderfully immersive world. If you're a fan of Louis L'Amour or Janette Oke, you'll loveLacy Williams.

And when the Wind River Hearts Mail-Order Brides spin-off series (that was the competition) is published in 2024, I will be sure to link to it as well, as I know that the authors chosen to co-write with Lacy Williams are a talented group that will deliver quality novels for us all to dive into and enjoy! And frankly, I can't wait to read the awesome stories they'll create! :)

More Ever Always coming soon. Happy New Year's Eve Eve, I pray you & yours are well. Cheers! ~ W.A.

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