Florence's Mail Order Husband: Texas Prairie Brides

By Kate Whitsby

Book 3 of The Texas Prairie Brides series concludes the saga of Florence Abbot's journey to love and happiness. Mr. Acton Abbot isn't happy at all about his beloved daughter's decision to get a mail-order husband. He always hoped she would marry the son of another cattle baron. What if her new husband is some uncouth cattle puncher—or worse? In spite of all his warm feelings for Bill Bailey and Grant Ewing, he dreads the day his new son-in-law arrives on the ranch to steal his precious Florence away.
But Mr. Abbot gets a pleasant surprise when Foster Gregory shows up. The son of a steel tycoon from Back East, he appears on the surface to be everything Mr. Abbot ever dreamed of. Bill and Grant don't think much of him, though. He's got a long way to go before he's ready to take over the ranch. They can hardly disguise their contempt when he first approaches them to ask them to show him the ropes. Only after he loses some of his big-city shine do they start to understand he's sincere about learning the way of life on the Frontier.
Florence, on the other hand, falls instantly and madly in love with her new husband. He sweeps her off her feet, and she finds herself being transformed into someone she never thought possible. Where will her marriage take her? Will Foster take over the Double A Ranch, leaving Florence in her old place as queen of the castle? Or will they wind up getting drawn away into an unknown world of limitless horizons and unfathomable possibilities?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gold Crown Publishing
• Release date: Apr 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386489139

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KATE WHITSBY

Florence's Mail Order Husband

Texas Prairie Brides: Book 3

Dedication

To YOU, The reader.

Thank you for your support.

Thank you for your emails.

Thank you for your reviews.

Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.

Contents

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

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Connect With Kate

Copyright

Chapter 1

Mr. Acton Abbot, owner of the Double A Cattle Ranch, fiddled with the flowers on the mantel. I sure wish you would reconsider this, Florence.

His daughter, Florence, sailed around the room, putting invisible items into their places and straightening the doily on the side table. Where’s your tie, Daddy? It’s nearly time to go.

I mean it, Florence, Mr. Abbot exclaimed. I don’t like the idea of you marrying a man you’ve never met.

So you keep saying. Florence crossed the room to the window. Do you even know where your tie is?

Don’t keep changing the subject, Mr. Abbot snapped. You have no idea who this man is or what reason he has for getting a mail-order bride. You ought to at least write to him a few more times before you run off to the altar.

I’m all finished writing to him, Daddy, Florence replied. You know that. It’s too late for me to reconsider now. We’re on our way out the door to go to the church. I’ve made my decision, and it’s too late to back out now.

It’s never too late to back out until you say, ‘I do’, Mr. Abbot shot back. You could back out right in front of the altar and be none the worse for wear. Once you marry him, you can never get rid of him, and neither can I.

I’m not going to back out in front of the altar, Florence told him. I made up my mind to marry a mail-order husband, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve written to him, and I’ve considered it, and I made my decision. Now that’s all there is to it.

I never knew you to be so unreasonable, Mr. Abbot complained. There must be some way I can talk you out of it.

Florence looked down from the window into the yard in front of the house. Oh, look. There’s the buggy. Come along. It’s time to go.

I’m not going anywhere until you answer me, Mr. Abbot maintained. You never give my concerns the slightest consideration.

Florence halted on her way to the door. I have given your concerns my consideration, and yes, I am sure I want to go through with this, and no, I will not reconsider.

I only want what’s best for you, Mr. Abbot told her. Once you marry this man, you’re stuck with him. The future of the whole ranch is hanging on this.

Florence went to her father and laid her hand on his arm. I know you want what’s best for me. But we’ve talked about this many times before, and we don’t have time to talk about it again now. Come on. Let’s get going ant we can talk on our way into town.

She looped her hand through his arm and led him down the stairs to the front door. Outside, at the bottom of the steps, a cowboy held the horse’s rein while Florence and her father climbed into the buggy. Mr. Abbot collected the reins in his hands and the buggy started forward.

They drove down the long driveway, under the arched ranch gate, and onto the main road leading to the little town of Borger, Texas. They rode in silence for a while until Mr. Abbot’s misgivings got the better of him. I wish you would at least get married in a real church down in Amarillo. That church in Borger isn’t much more than a shack.

Florence gazed at the scenery passing by. One church is very like another, I guess. I’ll be marred when I come out of it, one way or the other. Besides, the cost of traveling to Amarillo, plus staying in a hotel when we get there, isn’t worth it when we could do the same thing in Borger.

We could stay in a hotel, Mr. Abbot replied, and you wouldn’t have to rely on some plebeian widow for a room to change your dress.

I’m grateful to Grace for giving me the idea, Florence told him. If Mrs. Harrington’s room is good enough for her, it’s good enough for me.

And I suppose, Mr. Abbot returned, you’re using the same logic to justify this marriage. If a mail-order husband is good enough for Grace Bailey and Abigail Ewing, it must be good enough for you, too.

You said yourself, Florence pointed out, that they were happy with the men they married. You said yourself that, if I married a man as good and caring and reliable as Bill Bailey and Grant Ewing, that you would be happy for me.

But we don’t know, Mr. Abbot replied, that this man of yours is good and caring and reliable. He might be a rake or a drinker or a tyrant. We won’t know until after you marry him, and then it will be too late to do anything about it.

Daddy, Florence murmured, you have to stop calling him ‘this man of yours’. His name is Foster Gregory, and he’s going to be my husband. Call him by his name.

But you have to admit I’m right to be concerned, Mr. Abbot went on. What if he’s completely unsuited to you? What if he’s a crude, scruffy range hound who doesn’t know how to behave in polite company? What if he’s only interested in bilking you for all you’re worth? Did you ever think of that?

Florence smacked her lips in exasperation. So that’s what this is all about. You’re worried about him bilking you out of your money.

You can’t blame me for worrying about that, Mr. Abbot grumbled. What assurance do I have that a total stranger marrying my daughter is interested in anything else?

Daddy, Florence replied, Foster Gregory doesn’t need to bilk you out of your money. He’s got plenty of his own. His father is a steel magnate from Philadelphia. He doesn’t need your tiny bank account to bolster his fortune. She snorted. His father is probably worried about me bilking him for all he’s worth.

Chapter 2

Mr. Abbot furrowed his brow. You never told me this before.

Florence gasped. Oh, Daddy! I’ve told you all of this before. I’ve practically read every letter I’ve ever had from him. How else was I supposed to set your mind at ease about getting a mail-order husband? But then again, probably nothing I could do or say could set your mind at ease, could it?

All I’m saying is..... Mr. Abbot began.

I know very well what you’re saying, Florence interrupted. You’ve told me, and I don’t want to hear it again. Now, we’re on the way to the church for my wedding, so could we please stop talking about it? It’s giving me a headache.

All I said was.... Mr. Abbot began again.

Daddy, please, Florence whimpered.

Mr. Abbot fell silent, and Florence went back to looking at the flat landscape. She had so many things to think about. Her father’s endless concerns only muddled her thoughts and tired her out.

Before long, they reached the outskirts of Borger. Mr. Abbot stopped the buggy in front of the church and looked around. So where is he?

Florence looked over her shoulder. Would you mind driving over there across the street, please, Daddy?

Why? Mr. Abbot asked. What’s across the street?

Mrs. Harrington’s house is right over there, Florence told him. I just don’t want to walk across the street. I don’t want to get my shoes dusty, and I don’t want to carry my dress through all this dust, either.

Oh, Mr. Abbot muttered. All right. He drove across the street and stopped in front of a little nondescript house. I hope this is the right place.

It is. Florence got down from the buggy and walked around behind it.

How can you tell? he asked. It looks exactly like all the other houses in town.

Florence opened a box on the back of the buggy. Daddy, would you please get my case down? I’ll knock on the door and tell Mrs. Harrington we’re here. The room is around the side of the house, so once she tells us it’s okay, I’ll need you to take my case around to the room.

Oh, Mr. Abbot replied. Okay. He came to the back of the buggy, too.

Florence didn’t wait for him. She knocked on the house door and exchanged a few pleasant words with the woman who answered it. By the time Mr. Abbot unloaded her case, she was back. Follow me, please, Daddy. She led him around the corner of the house to another door in the side wall. Here it is. It’s exactly as Grace described it.

Florence opened the door herself. Put my case inside, please, Daddy. I’ll get changed while you go over to the church and let the minister know we’re here.

Oh, Mr. Abbot mumbled. Okay. He turned back to the buggy.

Leave the buggy here, please, Daddy, Florence called after him. I’ll need it to ride over to the church.

A shadow crossed Mr. Abbot’s face, and he glanced across the street toward the church.

Florence saw him hesitate. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right. I can’t walk through the dirt in my dress, can I?

Mr. Abbot frowned still more. No, I guess not. He scowled toward the church.

Is anything wrong, Daddy? Florence asked.

Mr. Abbot tossed his head toward a low hacienda next to the church. A handful of cowboys leaned against the wall, talking to each other and laughing. They occasionally spat into the dust at their feet. One of them nuzzled a dog on the ground in front of him with the toe of his boot. Florence hadn’t noticed them before her father pointed them out to her. I hope he’s not over there. I hope he’s not one of them.

Florence followed his gaze. "Will you stop worrying? I’ve told you a million times that he’s coming from Philadelphia. He’s coming in on the mail coach. And I told you he’s the son of a steel magnate.