Brides of Prairie Gold

PREFACE
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
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE BRIDES

PERRIN'S THROAT DRIED;

SHE WET HER LIPS.

She ordered herself to step away from him. But she couldn't. Oh God, she could not move, could hardly breathe. A hot tingle of anticipation shot through her body as electric as the stars flashing in the steamy night. "I see you every morning and every evening," she whispered in a husky voice.

"You don't speak a word that isn't necessary, then you run away." His eyes plundered her face, ravished her lips.

The night closed in to suffocate her. Years of wantingsomethingtightened her chest and vibrated through her limbs. Weeks of wanting him thinned her voice. His face, as tense with desire as her own, his face that she had dreamed of waking and sleeping. A groan closed her throat. "Cody, please. No"

One powerful hand caught her waist and pulled her roughly against him. The instant his arms closed around her, her head spun and she knew she was lost

"MAGGIE OSBORNE IS TERRIFIC!"

Kathe Robin, Romantic Times

"A WONDERFUL STORY THAT WILL STEAL YOUR HEART. DON'T MISS IT."

Heather Graham on The Wives of Bowie Stone

"A BEAUTIFUL ROMANCE THAT ECHOES WITH A FRESH, UNUSUAL, AND POIGNANTLY MOVING VOICE."

Affaire de Coeur on The Wives of Bowie Stone

A FEATURED ALTERNATE SELECTION OF DOUBLEDAY BOOK CLUB®

Books by Maggie Osborne

The Wives of Bowie Stone

The Seduction of Samantha Kincade

Brides of Prairie Gold

Published by

WARNER BOOKS

WARNER BOOKS EDITION

Copyright © 1996 by Maggie Osborne

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Elaine Groh

Cover illustration by Danielo Ducak

Warner Books, Inc.

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New York, NY 10020

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A Time Warner Company

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing: August, 1996

This book is affectionately dedicated to the people who made my life miserable while I was writing it:

To: Todd, Jeff, Chris, and Nathan. Dave and Jimmy. John, Jay, and John. Dave. Dirk, K.C., and Charlie. Frankie and his crew. Bill. Tom and Tony. Wayne, Ed, Pete, Jason. John K., Rick R., Dave S. Leland. Michael, and my hero, Tim. Victoria. Larry and Doug. And to Henry, with thanks for the grapefruit and peaches.

Most of all this book is for Stew and Louise Janz.

Thanks to all of you for making our dream come true!

My Journal, March, 1852. Finally the waiting has ended! At the end of the month, the bride train will embark on a journey that will take us halfway across a continent. We'll be on the trail for two and a half thousand miles, and for nearly six months. We shall encounter dangerous weather and wildlife, and many perils. Some in our party will take seriously ill, some may even die though I shudder to speak of such things. If anyone were wagonmaster other than my dearest Cody, I would shake with apprehension.

I thought he would take me in his arms the instant I entered the interview room and met with him for the first time since we promised ourselves to each other. Oh how my heart beat with anticipation. But he spoke to me as if we were meeting for the first time, as if I were merely responding to the advertisement for Oregon brides like all the other applicants.

Dear journal, I was so bewildered and shocked. Then he smiled and said I reminded him of someone, and my heart sang. I understood at once that this was a secret message. Until he offered this assurance, I wasn't sure if joining the bride train was what he wanted me to do. I even worried that I might have imagined everything, that I might be as queer in the head as she said I was.

I would have thrown myself into his arms during the interview, but then he smiled and said he had reached the age when everyone reminded him of someone. This comment was not meant to wound, but to warn. Otherwise, his scout would have discovered us locked in each other's arms.

I don't understand why we must conceal our love for one another, but it is clear that we must. I trust Cody has good reason and will explain when he judges the moment ripe.

Meanwhile, I rejoice that we are finally together again with no obstacles and the future bright before us.

It relieves the pressure behind my heart to write these words. I have never before kept a journal, but now I understand why nearly all the brides have vowed to record their thoughts throughout the journey. There is comfort in seeing these words on the page: I love him, I love him.

My Journal, April, 1852. My heart is filled with sorrow at the thought of leaving Chastity, and family and friends. But oh joy, how the spirit soars at the promise of Oregon. And a husband!

Hilda Clum