Lauri Robinson - Unclaimed Bride

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Constance Jennings was about the best-looking woman the Wyoming Territory had ever seen.

The contrast between her coal-black hair and summer-sky-blue eyes could make a man stop dead in his tracks. Ellis himself, who’d never been overly affected by a woman’s looks, had been half afraid to take a second gander at her.

She’d barely uttered a word, but her stance and the way she walked gave the impression she was no ordinary gal. Nope. Miss Constance Jennings had been born and bred a lady. If whoever did take her on didn’t do a bit of researching they might find themselves in a whole mess of trouble …

I remember the morning I awoke with the beginning scene of UNCLAIMED BRIDE in my mind. It was just an image of a young woman stepping off a stage, cold and nervous, and I couldn’t wait to learn more. I created an outline, and over the following days filled in a few blanks, but it wasn’t until I sat down and started Chapter One that the characters fully planted themselves in my head. As they took over I couldn’t seem to type fast enough.

I have to admit when Ellis brought all those bananas home to Constance I chuckled aloud. I had to call my mother during the bread-making scene, since she still bakes bread regularly—from scratch, using a well-memorised recipe. I also asked for her ‘from memory’ pancakes, and would like to share that one with you. They are so light and fluffy you’ll never want to buy mix again.

Mom’s pancakes: Sift together ¾ cup flour, 1¾ teaspoons baking powder, ½ teaspoon salt and 1½ teaspoons sugar. Mix in ½ cup milk, 1 egg, 2 tablespoons melted butter and ½ teaspoon vanilla. Spoon onto a hot griddle and flip when the bubbles cover the top. This makes about 10 pancakes and can be doubled or tripled as needed.

I hope you enjoy getting to know Constance and Ellis, and if you find yourself wondering about Angel you can read her story in the Mills & Boon ®Historical Undone! line—HER MIDNIGHT COWBOY.

With heartfelt blessings.

LAURI ROBINSON’s chosen genre to write is Western historical. When asked why, she says, ‘Because I know I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to grow up and marry Little Joe Cartwright.’

With a degree in early childhood education, Lauri has spent decades working in the non-profit field and claims once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one she took the challenge, and has loved every minute of the journey.

Lauri lives in rural Minnesota, where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren. She works part-time, volunteers for several organisations, and is a diehard Elvis and NASCAR fan. Her favourite getaway location is the woods of northern Minnesota, on the land homesteaded by her great-grandfather.

A previous title from Lauri Robinson:

HIS CHRISTMAS WISH

(part of All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas )

Also available in Mills & Boon ®Historical Undone! eBooks:

WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE RANGER

HER MIDNIGHT COWBOY

NIGHTS WITH THE OUTLAW

DISOBEYING THE MARSHAL

TESTING THE LAWMAN’S HONOUR

THE SHERIFF’S LAST GAMBLE

Lauri Robinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my mother, Mary Jane Johnson.

It would be impossible for me to list all the things that made her so remarkable, or how deeply she is missed. While I was writing this book, she was still with us, and I consulted her more than once for a recipe. She ‘created’ many original dishes over the years, and tweaked others that will forever be passed along from generation to generation in our family. The day she passed away, and we were all gathered at her house, my four-year-old granddaughter said, ‘Jesus must be happy. He now gets Grandma Mary’s coleslaw.’

Love you, Mom.

Miss you.

Wyoming Territory November, 1877

The bitter wind that whipped the leather curtains covering the stage windows and snuck beneath the buffalo robe now piled on the hard seat could easily have stolen her breath away, but Constance Jennings’s first glimpse of her destination already had her lungs locked tight. Pinning her quivering bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced over her shoulder, half hoping the other passenger—an aging pastor who’d conversed pleasantly during the last leg of her journey—would indicate this wasn’t their stop after all.

No such luck. Reverend Stillman smiled kindly as he waved a hand for her to climb down the steps.

The trip had been long and cold, and days of sitting left her legs stiff and her knees popping. As her boots hit the dirt street, tremors seized her toes, and then traveled, snaking all the way up to her scalp until every hair follicle tingled.

Had she completely lost her senses back in New York?

A gust of unrelenting Wyoming wind caught on her headdress. The covering had once been stylish, but was now as tired and worn as the rest of the traveling suit. She grabbed the curled straw brim to keep the wind from stealing the hat, and gulped at the swelling in her throat.

Which one was he? Ashton Kramer—the man who’d ordered a bride.

The men standing along the dusty road were of various shapes and sizes. One so tall he could have flown a flag off his neck and another so squat and round he easily could have been mistaken for a rain barrel except for the black top hat sitting on his round head. The others were in between and every one of them looked as though they’d just been spit-shined. They were an odd assortment, to say the least, and the lump in Constance’s throat threatened to suffocate her.

A long-forgotten image of Aunt Theresa’s canary, Sweetie, sitting on its tiny swing with Aunt Julia’s big orange tomcat, Percival, staring at it through the spindly gold bars entered her mind. At this moment, Constance could fully relate to the bird.

Every slight movement—one of the men nodding or tipping their hat with a tense greeting—had panic clutching her insides. Now was not the time to give in to regret or alarm. She’d chosen Wyoming.

Over jail.

It had sounded better.

Then.

Not one of the men stepped forward, identifying himself as her husband-to-be. Ashton Kramer’s letter hadn’t held a picture, but had said not to worry, she’d know him straight off.