A Mail-Order Wish (Miners to Millionaires Book 2) Read online

  A Mail-Order Wish

  Miners to Millionaires - Book 2

  Janelle Daniels

  Dream Cache Publishing

  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

  Epilogue

  Titles by Janelle Daniels

  She wants to be needed…

  After a mail-order bride fiasco leaves Olivia Hardy without a groom, she now owns a house and gold mine with eight other women, lives in a town full of rough-and-tumble miners, and has very little peace. When she sees a precious treasure for sale from her beloved state of Georgia, she’s determined to help the man to whom it rightfully belongs—whether he wants her help or not.

  Nothing would distract him…

  After being falsely accused of a heinous crime, Ronan Briggs worked hard to recreate himself, build his fortune, and plan out every step that will bring him to his ultimate goal… a goal that is now just days away from completion. When Olivia stubbornly inserts herself into his life, he pushes her away, no matter how much he desires to bring her closer.

  A complication in Ronan’s plan arises, and Olivia is the only one who can help him reach his objective. He just doesn’t know she could heal his heart as well.

  To sign up for Janelle Daniels’ mailing list and receive notice of new titles as they are available, click here.

  To CM Wright. You’re Awesome.

  And to Dan. You keep me going. One book at a time.

  Chapter 1

  The last time someone took advantage of Ronan, they’d met a horrible end. And while Ronan wasn’t a murderer, he dearly wished to strangle the scruffy, middle-aged man in front of him.

  “That’s flat-out robbery!” Ronan glared at Mitch, a trader that apparently had little desire to live. “You told me the supplies were a certain price. And here I am, with that exact amount.”

  Mitch spit on the dusty ground before crossing his arms over his chest. “Prices went up.”

  “Since yesterday?”

  Ronan cursed at the man’s mutinous nod. If he didn’t need those supplies this second, he’d send Mitch off and wash his hands of him. But he needed those supplies.

  Now.

  “How much more do you want?”

  “Five dollars.”

  Ronan gritted his teeth. “I’ll pay you the rest tomorrow. I don’t have that on me.”

  “No money, no supplies.”

  “You know I’m good for it,” Ronan said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. Was the man stupid enough to question Ronan’s word?

  “Maybe, maybe not. But that there’s the way of it. C’mon back when ya got the money.”

  Ronan slapped his hand on the man’s shoulder, stopping the double-crosser who’d turned to go. “I have something.” There were so many things he wanted to say, or even better, do to Mitch. He deserved a thrashing for making this transaction so difficult. But Ronan did neither.

  As Ronan reached into his pocket—his hand closing around the gold buckle, warmed from his body heat, and the one item that had never left his side—he loathed Mitch, and everyone else, that stood in his way. He’d never once let the buckle out of his sight—not in any card game, not when he’d needed more money to secure his claim in Promise Creek, and not even when he’d thought he’d die from starvation during the war. But now, after everything, he had no choice but to use it. Nothing was more important than his goal. Not even this item he held most dear.

  Pulling the piece of precious metal from his pocket, he held it out to the rat standing in front of him. “It’s gold. Will this hold you over until tomorrow?”

  “Lemme see.” Mitch held out his hand and Ronan passed it over, snuffing out the urge to slip it back in his pocket. The other man inspected the design. Etched into the buckle were three columns encircled by a wreath. After a few moments spent looking it over, he finally whistled. “That’ll do jes’ fine.”

  Of course it would. It was worth twenty times what he’d asked Ronan for, even after raising the price. “I’ll be back for that tomorrow. Instead of the five I owe you, I’ll give you ten as long as you swear not sell it before then.”

  Mitch shrugged, pocketing the buckle. “If’n ya say.”

  Gritting his teeth, Ronan hefted his supplies into his wagon and forced down the desire to pummel the man who’d swindled him, before taking back what was rightfully his. Everything will work out, he told himself. It has to.

  He had the supplies he needed, and the buckle would be back in his possession tomorrow.

  Olivia gave a final wave to the other women who’d joined her for the trip into town, and heaved a sigh of relief. If she’d had to spend even one more minute with them, she’d have gone completely mad. Another woman waved to her from further up the boardwalk, and she returned the gesture with a smile, but made no effort to move closer. In truth, she was sick of conversations. She was sick of talking and hearing about the same things, over and over again. She was tired of all the petty fights between the women, tired of always wondering what would happen next.

  In truth, she was just plain tired.

  And bored.

  Her shoulders slumped a little before she sighed and forced herself to let it all go, then hefted the wicker basket she carried higher on her arm. She hoped her donations to the church would help the few families in town, perhaps even the single miners, though many never attended services. But as the town grew, as it prospered, the church would as well. Families would soon move in and begin to civilize the community.

  A little hurt tugged at Olivia’s heart as she brushed her hand over the infant clothing tucked next to loaves of bread and homemade soaps. Her biggest hope was to have a family of her own to look after. She needed to be needed.

  Her existence in Promise Creek seemed much like her life back in Georgia. She’d been sheltered and loved by her family, but she’d had no purpose. She’d had no one to look after, no duties to attend to. In truth, she’d felt helpless.

  Much like she did here.

  Her knuckles whitened around the basket’s handle. She had so much more in her to give than just a few clothing donations and soaps. And she’d sworn she’d make use of that once she arrived. But after being jilted at the altar—

  Olivia shook her head as she cut off her thoughts, she had to be fair. Technically, she hadn’t been jilted at the altar. Her fiancé had died before she’d even arrived. The fact that eight other women had turned up at the same time, for the same man, had just been another shock. She liked to think she’d have made Ivan a fine bride. Her only goals had been to take care of him, to give him a family, and make him happy. She’d told him just that in her letters. But had that been enough for him?

  Judging by the other women he’d sent for, no, it hadn’t.

  Her chin notched up as she stepped into the church yard. She might not have some of the same skills or backgrounds as the other women, but she had heart. That had to count for something. Right?

  “Miss Hardy, it’s great to see you again,” the reverend greeted her as she stepped inside the church.

  “And you as well, reverend. I’ve brought a few things.” She offered the basket to him and a smile spread wide across his mouth, causing the wrinkles around it to practically disappear.

  “I know just the family that will benefit from
your care basket.”

  She blushed at his praise and twisted her fingers together. “That’s what I’d hoped. I still don’t know many people.”

  “You will, just give it time. And once you’re married, you’ll make a lot more friends with the other matrons in town.”

  Olivia hoped that were true. She desperately wanted to belong. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The reverend nodded once. “I appreciate you stopping by,” he said as he placed the basket on the table.

  “It’s the least I could do.” She turned to leave but the reverend stopped her.

  “Miss Hardy? Another moment, if you please?”

  “Yes?” She gave him her full attention. “Is there something I can do for you?” Please, give me something to do so I can feel useful.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I wonder if you can run an errand for me?”

  “Absolutely.” She could practically feel herself beaming.

  The reverend’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “I paid a trader in town for a few extra bolts of cloth for the poor, and I’d really appreciate if you could pick them up for me. I need to check on Mrs. Smelting, since she’s taken a turn for the worse, and I simply don’t have time to do both.”

  “I’d be happy to. His name?”

  “He goes by Mitch,” he said, before giving her a rough description of the man. He placed a hat on top of his graying hair. “Thank you for your help. You can just leave the cloth here in the church.”

  Well, it wasn’t exactly the type of task she’d been hoping for, but at least it was something, and anything was better than returning to the house she shared with the other women. The trader she was supposed to find should have the cloth with him since it was market day. At least, she hoped he did. She meant to help the reverend out, and she refused to come back empty-handed.

  As Olivia wove through the stands of homemade pots of jam, fresh-baked bread, whittled figurines— sold by a man who looked as though he hadn’t bathed in a year—and a table piled with ready-made gingham dresses, she found an unkempt man matching the description the reverend gave her. “Are you Mitch?”

  He nodded, then spit on the ground close to her feet. “What can I do fer ya? Lookin’ fer anythin’ in particular?” He waved a careless hand over the wares scattered about his blanket on the ground.

  Olivia took a small step back as the odor of sweat and filth rushed at her with his movements. “The reverend asked me to pick up some bolts of cloth he purchased from you.”

  “And who might you be?”

  “Olivia Hardy.”

  “Huh. One of Ivan’s fiancées.” Mitch didn’t waste any more words. He simply turned away, walked over to the cart behind him, and began to sift through the haphazardly placed wares. He cursed loudly when a pile slid off to the side.

  Her cheeks flushed with color as she darted a glance around at the other shoppers. They seemed immune to the vulgar language and she wondered if she ever would be as well.

  She attempted to cover her embarrassment by diverting her attention to the other items the man had on display—fishing rods, a box of loose buttons, hunting knives, cutlery... the list just kept going.

  Her gaze swept over a delicate gold ring with an amethyst chip in the middle, before landing on a belt buckle made of gold.

  Gold?

  Odd, she’d never seen a buckle made from such a precious metal before.

  She reached out and traced the design on the object with her fingers before she comprehended what it was.

  She gasped. Three columns and a wreath. The state seal of Georgia. She’d seen other belt buckles from the civil war that looked very much the same, but those had all been made out of simple brass.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked softly, turning the buckle over.

  “What?” he asked impatiently, then peered over his shoulder at the buckle in her fingers. “Oh. Yep. Perty lil piece, ain’t it?”

  “It is. It’s from Georgia.”

  “No kiddin’? Didn’t know Ronan was from Georgia.” The man shrugged, obviously not truly caring if Ronan was from Georgia or not, and went back to searching for the cloth.

  “This was Ronan’s?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  Something flickered in her belly, but she couldn’t tell what it meant. Ronan is from Georgia? How had she not known?

  When she and the other women had acquired Ivan’s claim—with none of them possessing the knowledge of how to mine it—Sawyer, the town sheriff, had hired Ronan to help with the task.

  He was handsome—in a dark and rough kind of way. But she’d never heard more than a few whispers of any sort of drawl tangled within his speech.

  “Ya like it?” Mitch asked, now standing back in front of her.

  “I… Yes, it’s beautiful. I don’t know why he’d ever get rid of it.”

  “Didn’t have no choice. Least that’s the impression I got. Didn’t have ‘nuff cash on hand, so he gave this ta me an plans on gettin’ it back tomorrow.”

  “He told you he’d be back for it tomorrow? Then why on earth are you showcasing it for sale today?”

  The trader’s arms crossed over his chest defensively. “Right now, that there’s my property. I ain’t in no habit of holdin’ anythin’ fer anyone. If’n someone with good money wants ta buy it ‘fore then, well, I gots ta make me a livin’, now don’t I?”

  Olivia’s lips thinned at the man’s arrogance. What Mitch was doing was wrong. This item was obviously important to Ronan or he wouldn’t have wanted it back. Ronan was too young to have fought in the war himself, but the buckle could’ve been his father’s. “How much?”

  “Fer the buckle?”

  Her face hardened. “How much does Ronan owe you?”

  “Five dollars. But it’s gonna cost ya even more ta buy, lady. That there gold is worth at least ten times that.”

  “I think not.”

  “I assure ya—”

  She held up her hand. “Oh, I don’t doubt that the gold is worth more, but it’s not going to cost me more, because I’m not buying it for myself. I am merely repaying Ronan’s debt a little early and collecting his property for him.”

  “But ya can’t jes’—”

  “I can, and I will. Ronan works for me.” Olivia stared the man down and didn’t blink once. So help the man if he refused. She was a kind and generous woman, but if someone she cared about was being taken advantage of, not even the devil himself would mess with her.

  Mitch whined a little more, but eventually gave in when he realized all he was doing was infuriating her more. “Fine. I promised ta hold it fer him ‘til tomorrow anyways. ‘Sides, this’ll clear up more space fer my other wares.”

  Olivia’s breath caught in her lungs and she held it in until it burned. This man had made a promise to Ronan to hold it, and yet he’d been ready to sell it to her without blinking an eye. What a low-down rotten thing to do!

  Grateful she always carried extra money with her when she came into town, she shoved five dollars into the grimy man’s hands, pocketed the treasure, and grabbed the reverend’s cloth before marching away. She wouldn’t waste another word on that man.

  In truth, she didn’t think she could speak civilly to him any longer. All she wanted to do was give him a piece of her mind on how to be a decent person. But some things weren’t worth the trouble. She had Ronan’s treasure in her possession and she’d make sure he got it back without delay.

  Chapter 2

  “What do you mean you don’t have it anymore?” Ronan growled at Mitch, swearing if the trader said he’d already sold it, he’d follow through with his previous thoughts of murder.

  “I sold it ta one of Ivan’s brides”—Mitch shuffled several steps back as Ronan moved in—“fer five dollars. She said she was buyin’ it back early fer ya so’s I wouldn’t sell it,” he rushed to say.

  One of the women bought it? “Why would she do that? How would she even know that you had it?”

  Mitch gulped
hard. “Well, ‘cuz it mighta been on my blanket yesterday.”

  “And why was it on your blanket when you swore you wouldn’t sell it?”

  The man’s chin notched up as if offended that Ronan would question his honor. Damn right he questioned it! This snake sold his buckle. His. It didn’t matter who bought it or what their purpose was. “Who bought it?”

  “Miss Hardy.”

  Warmth spread through him before he could stop it. Of course it would’ve been her. At least he knew he didn’t have to worry about getting it back any longer. From what he’d seen since he began working their mine, Olivia was the gentlest and sweetest of all Ivan’s brides-to-be. But that didn’t excuse Mitch from selling it in the first place, regardless of the reasons. “You better pray I get it back.”

  For a man who liked to give off the impression no one scared him, Mitch’s cheeks sure lost a lot of their color.

  Ronan had already planned to head over to Ivan’s mine after getting his buckle back, so making a detour to the main house wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t relish it. He doubted he’d get the buckle back without some type of explanation. Olivia obviously knew what it was, why it mattered, or she never would’ve purchased it back for him.

  He wasn’t about to lie to her—he let out a swear—but why were so many people poking their nose in his business lately?

  He’d been moving along, lining up everything perfectly, so when his plans were put into action, his enemy would fall into the traps he’d set.

  It seemed like ever since he’d agreed to work the mine—thanks, Sawyer—his life had become more complicated. If the sheriff hadn’t called up the debt Ronan owed him, he never would’ve said yes.

  The incident in Bannack happened years ago. Ronan was younger and weaker back then. Betrayed by someone he thought he could trust, he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time when a claim jumper and his brothers thought to off him and steal his mine.