Janette Foreman - Last Chance Wife

Her Secret Suitor

When six-time mail-order bride Winifred Sattler is stranded in Deadwood, Dakota Territory, she’s grateful to find a temporary position at Mr. Ewan Burke’s business until she can return home. Ewan is handsome, but stuffy and serious—her complete opposite. Unlike her new anonymous correspondent, Mr. Businessman, who appreciates her bubbly optimism.

To keep his mining company afloat, Ewan can’t be distracted by Winifred’s vivacious beauty. He needs a no-nonsense wife. Someone like Miss Thoroughly Disgruntled, the only respondent to his recent ad with whom he truly connected. In person, Winifred and Ewan don’t get along, but in their letters they’re falling in love. Will they discover a perfect match in each other?

JANETTE FOREMAN is a former high-school English teacher turned stay-at-home mom with a passion for the written word. Through her romances, she hopes people see themselves as having worth in God’s eyes. When she sneaks in time for hobbies, she reads, quilts, makes cloth dolls and draws. She makes her home in the northern Midwest with her amazing husband, polydactyl cat, bird-hunting dog and the most adorable baby twin boys on the planet.

Also By Janette Foreman

Love Inspired Historical

Last Chance Wife

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Last Chance Wife

Janette Foreman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08442-0

LAST CHANCE WIFE

© 2018 Janette Foreman

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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“You’re certain these are all the sales you’ve made?”

“Yes.”

She pointed to each name, but Ewan averted his gaze. Three sales.

“This man, Arnold Pickling, needed a screw to hold the chain on his arrastra. Do you know what an arrastra is, Mr. Burke? Mr. Pickling told me all about them.”

Irritation built in his gut. “I know what an arrastra is, Miss Sattler.” Sighing, he rubbed his hand down his face. “I used one before I built up the mine.”

The mine. The years of defending his claim, of mining gold along the creek in the beginning, battling the rain and the snow. Of building the store, the kitchen and his office. The fight to make a living. The desire to be more than a failure to his father.

What if he lost it all?

Miss Sattler placed her hand on his forearm, jarring him out of his thoughts. “Everything will work out, Mr. Burke.”

Slowly he met her gaze. “Thank you,” he murmured.

She smiled. A nice smile. Genuine. Warm. For all her faults, Miss Sattler wasn’t malicious. He’d do well to respect her, even if her personality grated on his patience.

As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.

—1 Peter 4:10

Dear Reader,

The idea of a heroine “six times ordered but never a bride” intrigued me, so when I finally got my chance to write her story, I had so much fun! It was a joy visiting the Lead-Deadwood gold mines last summer for research, even if I was experiencing morning sickness while pregnant with my twin boys. My mind came alive as I traveled the damp, dark drifts, imagining Ewan fighting to save the Golden Star...and dealing with Winifred as she jumbled his well-laid life with her unorthodox ways and unending optimism. Two real Deadwood staples are mentioned in the story—Sol Star truly was the postmaster, and the notorious and deplorable Gem Theater really employed women tricked into working there. I always wanted someone like Ewan to give down-on-their-luck people a second chance. I’m thankful to know that with Jesus, we all can have that chance at redemption.

Love,

Janette Foreman

This book is dedicated to Karen Turgeon, my second grade teacher. Because of you, I found my love for stories. Thank you for your continued support and love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Deadwood, Dakota Territory September 1878

“In case of trouble, call upon Mr. Ewan Burke at the Golden Star Mine in Deadwood.”

Clutching the crinkled note Aunt Mildred had given her, Winifred Sattler raised her gaze to the town in which she’d found herself stranded. Dust curled up as the stagecoach drove away, tinting the air with a dirty dose of failure that caked her lungs. Surely that was what stung her eyes and clouded her vision.

The dust. Not the failure.

Stuffing the note back into her pocket, Winifred wove on foot up the cramped street through a tangle of men, vegetable carts, wagons and horses. Her glance bounced between the wooden buildings and the gaping holes in the road, then scaled the hills on either side of the narrow gulch where the town rested. A slight breeze made the mining town stink of dirt, unlike the sweet aroma of pine that permeated the canyon she had ridden through to get here, and the metallic pounding of stamp mills had begun to give her a headache.