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CHAPTER 1

Lone Tree, Nebraska, 1875

Do you want a needle and a spool of thread, Mr. Samuelson?"

Elle glanced up at the question, asked to a man. Mere curiosity because needles and thread usually were sold to women.

She saw a man with eyes as wide as a scared horse. She could swear she saw white all the way around the blue center. Biting back a smile, she felt an urge to go help him. Or at least she could advise him to find his wife and let her take over such business.

Being neighborly, she walked to his side. The Lone Tree General Store was bustling on a Saturday morning, and a line had formed to buy supplies while Myrtle talked to Mr. Samuelson.

"Good morning, Myrtle." Elle had known Myrtle Garvey for years. The older woman helped her husband run the only general store in the small northeast Nebraska frontier town.

"Mornin', Elle." Myrtle's eyes sparked with her good nature, but it was a busy morning for her and Elle could tell the woman was fretting about Mr. Samuelson's questions. "Have you met Colin Samuelson? He just claimed a homestead out by yours. Wouldn't be surprised if you shared a property line."

Colin turned to Elle, as if looking away from the spool of black thread in Myrtle's hand was a pardon from a hanging.

"Welcome to Lone Tree, Mr. Samuelson." Elle nodded. "Myrtle, if you need to see to your customers, I can help with the thread selection."

"Mr. Samuelson, this is Eleanor Winter. She is just the one to help you." Myrtle set the notions down quickly and hurried to her front counter as if afraid Elle would change her mind.

Myrtle wove through her store, packed with shelves and barrels and people, leaving Elle to deal with the clearly overwhelmed Mr. Samuelson.

"I'd appreciate the help, Miss Winter." He doffed his wide-brimmed hat and smiled at her, the nicest smile. He seemed to really look at her in a way no man had in years. "I have fabric on my list, but it appears that there is more to a shirt than just fabric."

He had overly long dark curls under that hat. The shirt he was wearing now was so threadbare it would shred in a high wind.

"It's Mrs. Winter. I assure you, I'm no Miss." Though many people thought it. She was short and slight. Her cheeks were quite round and her hair thin and blond and flyaway. She'd always looked younger than her age. She kept waiting to get old enough to count youthful looks as a blessing.

"I apologize, Mrs. Winter."

"That's fine. You do need these things, unless your wife didn't ask you to buy thread and needles and buttons because she already has them."

"I'm not married, and I just moved in with only the barest of supplies."

Elle hated to ask, but the condition of his shirt and his lack of knowledge about sewing forced her to. "Have you ever made a shirt before?"

Sadness seemed to dim the light in his vivid blue eyes. "Nope, my wife used to handle that for me. I'm afraid I'm near to useless."

"You're a widower?" Elle immediately felt such empathy for him. She reached out and rested her fingertips on his wrist. She felt the solid muscles flex under his poor shirt.

His eyes went to where she touched him as if a magnet had drawn them. She pulled away quickly, shocked at her boldness.

She cleared her throat then cleared it again and went on. "I'm a widow, and I remember well how much I had to learn when my husband died."

Five years now and the grief had faded until thinking of Jerome brought happy memories rather than tearing grief.

"Do you really have time to help me?" His smile was so genuine and so eager that it warmed something in Elle that had been cold for years. Exactly five years.

"I'm in no hurry." She was enjoying this visit immensely.

Colin reached into the pocket of his pants — of course there was a hole big enough he could reach all the way through and scratch his thigh. Here he was talking with the prettiest woman he'd seen in an age, the first one he'd even noticed since Priscilla died. Her bright blue eyes matched her crisp blue-and-white gingham dress, while his clothing was nearly in rags. These were his good pants, too, and they were nearly worn through at the knees. He needed all new clothes, and he had no idea how he would get them.

He produced a piece of paper that unfolded, then unfolded again, and again. "My list. And there are more things on it I don't quite understand."

Elle covered her mouth, but a chuckle still escaped. The spark in those light blue eyes drew him. Shocking, when his thoughts had been for no one but Priscilla even with her gone now for a solid year. It felt like a betrayal of his love to notice how pretty Elle Winter was, but notice he did.

Colin shrugged one shoulder sheepishly. "Well, you did ask."

Elle let the laugh escape. Colin laughed, too, and the moment stretched. It was surprisingly pleasant.

"I'd be glad to help. Let me see your list."

She'd said yes. They spent the next half hour stacking things on the counter, off to the side, so they didn't interfere with the lady running the store. Neither of them talked much about themselves, just the list. He was busy worrying what to buy, and she was busy teasing him.

And they were both busy laughing.

Colin had done little laughing in the last year.

It turned out his land did abut hers.

"You should build right along the property line on the west side of your homestead. I'm right up against my own line on the east. My husband built there because there's an artesian well that has cold water pouring out year-round; even in winter it keeps running. It bubbles up right on the border of our land. You have as much right to that water as I do, and you wouldn't have to dig a well. It would be nice to have a close neighbor."

Colin's shoulders lifted. "I was worried about water. I've never dug a well before. I drove out to my land, picked a likely spot with no idea what I was doing, unloaded my wagon and took off the canvas, then came straight to town for supplies. Yes, having a well already there sounds wonderful." He had a lot in front of him to settle a homestead. Most of what lay ahead of him came as a shock. "I'd just planned to hire someone to build a house and dig a well."

"Most folks are mighty busy trying to work their own homesteads. Chances are you can find help with your soddy, but you'll have to work hard alongside whoever steps in."

"A soddy?" Colin had just taken off from St. Louis, so tired of his home and the painful memories. He'd heard he could homestead, which would be so different from his city life there should be nothing to remind him of Priscilla. He'd made the decision in a rush and was just learning what it meant to "stake a claim" to land on Nebraska's vast prairie.

"Well, yes. That's the only building material, unless you ship in the wood for a board house, but that takes months."

"Shipped in?" Colin felt the shock of that to his toes. "It takes months? Why is that?"

"Well, there aren't trees anywhere around. We call this town Lone Tree for a reason." She gestured out the front window to the massive cottonwood that stood just outside of town. "The closest trees are along the Missouri River, straight east nearly twenty miles away, and even those we do have are heavily picked over, leaving only sparse and spindly trees. They don't make good log cabins. So the boards have to be shipped in to the nearest railhead then loaded into a wagon and hauled out here. You'll need to build a sod house to get you through the spring and summer. There is a bit of lumber to be had in town, enough to frame the house, but not enough for walls."

Colin ran one hand into his hair and knocked his hat off.

Elle caught it.

"I don't know how to build a sod house."

"I have a sod-busting plow you can borrow." Surely she'd just said that to torment him.

"I'm a doctor. I wanted property of my own. But I've never built a house. I'd planned to hire it done."

"A doctor? Lone Tree needs one desperately. And I think I can name a man or two who would be willing to help you."

She gave directions to the well and said a bit about his property lines, while Myrtle sent a hired boy out with box after box of supplies to his team standing in their traces out front.

Looking at the team reminded him he was taking too long with this. It had just been so nice to talk to a pretty woman. As much as she'd thrown a few surprises his way, he didn't want it to end. But it had to.

Or did it?

"I've had a wonderful time, Mrs. Winter. Uh ..." His eyes locked on hers, his smile faded, and he was sorely afraid his face was heating up with a blush. Well, it was the plain truth he had no experience talking to women.

He forced out the words he had in mind. "Would you be interested in taking a ... a ... a ..." He swallowed hard. "That is going on a ... a ... a, well, um ... a drive with me sometime?"

Elle's eyes widened, and since Colin was looking right at her, quite intently, he noticed.

"I think that would be lovely, Mr. Samuelson."

"Call me Colin, please." He decided to get moving before she changed her mind. Then he noticed she had his hat. He reached for it and she handed it over, rather unsteadily. He finally managed to be the one surprising her.

"All right, Colin. And I'm Elle." She gestured toward the door. "I'm running late myself."

Walking with her, he reached past and opened the door. "I'll be a few days getting settled. How about Sunday, after services? Maybe I can see you home, Elle."

Nodding, Elle stepped out on the boardwalk. "I'd like that. Thank you, Colin."

They turned and faced each other, and the world seemed to fade away. Colin didn't hear if horses or wagons passed. If anyone walked by them, he didn't notice. Only Elle was real.

"Ma! You're late!"

Turning, she saw her four children running up, along with quite a few other young'uns she'd never seen before.

"I'm sorry." Honestly, what she was sorry for was the interruption, but she'd been a mother for a long time. She was used to it.

She noticed her son, Tim, whispering to a girl who seemed close to his age. The pair seemed awfully friendly for just having met.

Hers swarmed around her, and the three others yelled, "Pa."

As they ran up to Colin.

"Yours?"

Colin was staring at her children. "You have four children?" He sounded strange.

"Yes, and yours? I guess we didn't get that much talking done. You've got three?"

"Seven children," Colin said, sounding a bit faint. His eyes were wide open, and they jumped from child to child.

Tim, fifteen, taller than she was. Her only boy and the image of Jerome, with his shining brown curls that peeked out around the edges of his broad-brimmed hat. Mercifully he had none of Jerome's dark moods.

Martha, twelve, looked more like Elle every day and was nearing her in height. Petite and fair haired. The twins, Barbara and Betty, were identical and very small for six and a match for Martha and Elle. They'd been one year old when Jerome had died, and just surviving had been a struggle with two infants and all the work of running her homestead.

Elle quickly introduced them to Colin.

"We met at the church school party, Ma." Tim gave a raven-haired girl a long look. "We were coming to look for you. We found out we're living next door to each other."

The brunette, Sarah, had a full woman's height and was probably an inch taller than Elle. The girl had beautiful, bright green eyes and a wide smile, a complexion burned from the sun, and a few coiling ringlets that had escaped from a bun. "My name is Sarah, Mrs. Winter. Tim, this is my pa, Dr. Samuelson."

Sarah gave her father a bright smile, which he didn't notice because Colin was still looking from child to child to child.

Her son, Tim, was skinny, and he hadn't gotten his growing on yet, but he was a serious boy whose hard work at Elle's side had gotten her through the last five years. He extended a hand as if he were an adult.

"Nice to meet you, Doc Samuelson." Colin managed to shake, but there was something wrong with him.

Elle wasn't sure what, but there was a dazed expression, and his eyes were so wide, she could see white all around them. Like a frightened horse — much as he'd looked when she'd first noticed him.

Well, they could talk more after services on Sunday.

Sarah quickly introduced her two little brothers, who hadn't stood still for a second. Russell with chocolate-brown hair, who resembled Colin, and Frank as dark haired as Sarah.

"We need to be going, Mr. Samuelson." She realized she'd started calling him Colin in the store, but now, somehow, with the children at hand, that seemed overly familiar. "We will see you at services on Sunday and maybe before that if we're neighbors. In fact, if you'd like help settling in, come by our place. And I strongly hope you build close to us. It would be good to have neighbors."

She shooed her children into the wagon. Tim climbed up and took the reins.

Colin's children ran to climb into their wagon.

"Well, good-bye then."

Colin's hand whipped out and caught her wrist. He leaned very close to her and whispered, "About that ride."

He faltered, cleared his throat, and went on. "I won't be coming."

"What?" Elle probably had that frightened horse expression now.

"Elle, I really thought we got along well in that store but ... but seven children between us?" Colin shook his head, tiny frantic moves surely hoping the children wouldn't notice. "That is just out of the question. I can't even take care of the ones I have."

He smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. Good-bye, Elle."

Elle's mouth gaped open, and she stood, shocked, as he turned and nearly threw himself up onto his high seat. All three of his children were there, Sarah holding the littlest boy, Frank, on her lap; Russell squashed between Colin and Sarah on a seat clearly built for two. But the back end was so full of supplies they had to fit.

It dawned on Elle that he'd bought so much because he had three children to feed and clothe.

He shook the reins and yelled at his horses to move with far too much enthusiasm. They took off. His children waved, and hers waved back. Stunned as she was, Elle managed to raise one hand.

Colin never looked back.

Finally, with his horses picking up speed with every step, Elle came out of her shock enough to be annoyed. Her children were too much for him, then? He liked her, but he didn't like her children, whom he'd only met for about two minutes? Annoyance grew into anger as she marched to her wagon and climbed up beside Tim.

Her son gave her such a sunny smile she forced herself to ignore her anger. "I liked the Samuelson family, Ma. I'm hoping we can all be good friends."

"They seemed nice." Elle managed a smile and said no more because it served no purpose to let her children know Colin Samuelson had been horrified by their very existence. How could she say, "Don't you dare be friends with them. At least not if their skunk of a father is anywhere around"?

Besides, she thought as she calmed a bit, seven children. Though she controlled it outwardly, inside she shook to think of all those children. That was an incredible number of children, and half grown ... that seemed like more than if they'd come one at a time and started as tiny babies.

Of course Tim acted like most growing boys and was always starving, but add two more boys? And did Sarah give Tim a flirtatious look? How could brother and sister also have romantic notions about each other?

It was still annoying to have her children make a man run for the hills, but good heavens. She pictured her house and his lack of a house. Seven children! He was right. It was just as well not to start something that had no chance to go on.

That didn't stop her from wanting to kick Colin Samuelson in the backside.

Ma, we've got to go, fast." Tim came in with an unusually frantic look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Elle straightened away from the bread she was kneading.

"It's the Samuelsons, they need help."

"We just saw them at church yesterday." Tim and Sarah had talked, the rest of the children had played together. Elle hadn't gone near Colin, and he certainly hadn't come near her.

"I just saw Sarah. We've got to go, hurry."

"You saw Sarah? You mean you rode over there? Just now? I thought you were doing chores." As she said it, she realized the morning had been getting on. Tim had brought in milk and eggs, and he'd gone back out at least two hours ago. Her son was so mature and dependable she hadn't thought to notice his long absence and question what he was doing.

"Yes, and we have to stop him."

"Stop him from what?" Stop him from moving away was her first thought. Moving away so he never had to be near Elle and all her children again.

"He's going to build his house right in a waterway. He's turning up the dirt for a foundation right now. Floodwater will run right through his house, but all he sees is a smooth place. Easy to build on. You know that old Logan Creek bottom."

"Why didn't you just tell him not to build there?" Tim rolled his eyes. "I tried, but he hired two men from town." Tim named the two biggest layabouts in Lone Tree. "And they told the doctor to pay me no mind. He took their word over mine. But he'll listen to you. We've got to go fast because if he gets any further along in building, he'll decide moving the house is more trouble than it's worth."

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Excerpted from "The Homestead Brides Collection"
by .
Copyright © 2015 Mary Connealy.
Excerpted by permission of Barbour Publishing, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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