Courting Chaos – Kaihtlyn’s Choice – Book Spotlight
Here we are-- Release Day! And here is part 3 of my series on Kaihtlyn's Choice.
Kaihtlyn’s Choice releases TODAY! The wait is over. Hop on over and order your print book today.
Peek Inside the Story:
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing,
and obtaineth favour of the Lord.
Proverbs 18:22 KJV
Chapter 1
Nugget, Colorado
June 2nd, 1884
Kaihtlyn Watson swayed in time with the motion of the stagecoach carrying her from her old life to her new. Surely, driftwood and debris experienced more peaceful passage over a waterfall than she had in the past ten days. Leaving Kansas City behind wasn’t a struggle. Well, leaving her best friend, Nancy, hurt. Left a hole the size of Texas in her heart. Selling almost everything associated with her former life wasn’t so upsetting. Sharing this crowded conveyance with strangers for a fortnight wasn’t frightening.
No, what kept her awake far into the night as they hurtled along dark roads, barreled through thick forests, forded swollen rivers, and even outpaced a Cheyenne band on the prowl, was the question she’d dealt with for most of the last four years: where was Robert?
She knew where he had last resided. A town called Nugget. Colorado. Not exactly on a direct stage route, as the ticket clerk in KC explained. But she could get to Cañon City on the stage. Robert said in his letter he’d send somebody to meet her. She’d sent a letter a few days before leaving Kansas City, hoping it made its way to her husband so he knew when to get her. No, the clerk knew nothing about the town, but suspected it was little more than a mining camp. Tents, claims. More saloons than churches, for sure.
The coach slowed, and the driver knocked on the roof. “Colorado Springs coming up. Twenty-minute stop. Don’t be late.”
She exhaled, then patted her hair. Although why she bothered, she wasn’t certain. Until she saw her reflection, she did not know what needed tucking or re-pinning. Her dress, the same one she’d worn since Kansas City, hung limply. The uncomfortable travel kept her stomach doing flip-flops, so she’d eaten sparingly. The drivers along the way made it clear they weren’t stopping for anything apart from their schedule. Safety of the passengers, they said.
She snorted. Maybe. But what about their comfort?
The coach slowed, then stopped. The driver set the brake before jumping down, and she jostled to her right at the movement. The door swung outward, a step shoved into place, then he left them to their own devices to stay or exit.
Well, she needed a breath of air. And perhaps a trip to the privy. Absolutely something to drink. And eat, if she had time. If not, she’d wait. Not like she hadn’t gone hungry plenty of times in the past.
Kaihtlyn stepped, unaided, onto the sidewalk. She didn’t need a man to hold her hand. Wasn’t accustomed to such genteel treatment. Sure didn’t expect it from Robert. And given that he was hardly around, a good thing she didn’t get accustomed to being treated like a lady. No, siree.
She surveyed her surroundings as she considered what she’d done to survive these past years while waiting for Robert to grow up. Ironing, laundry, cleaning. Taking care of children. Dustbin work. Cooking.
Folks pushed past, going about their business. Wagons and coaches rolled along the street. Several riders on horses sauntered past.
She turned toward the combination stage and train station, noting the fine stone construction. Inside, the dim light and cool interior cheered her. Seemed like there were only two temperatures in the stage—hot as an oven, or cold as ice. Nothing in between.
Spotting the sign that led to the women’s privy—this was a treat—she followed the directions outside, around the building, and came to an abrupt halt. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one in need of the facilities. At least five women, some with children in hand, waited ahead of her.
Oh, dear. She only had about seventeen minutes before the stage left again. She’d already witnessed in Hays, Kansas, that the drivers meant what they said. They’d left a man behind, even though he ran alongside them until he couldn’t keep up.
She couldn’t afford to lose her single piece of luggage, or have to buy another ticket.
A hand pump beside a bench beckoned her. Perhaps she could use this time to clean up some. She turned to the woman behind her.
“Would you save my spot for me?”
“Sure.”
Kaihtlyn stepped out of line and perched on the end of the bench. The woman slipped forward into her place.
Unlikely the stranger would keep her word. She sighed. Why were some people just downright mean?
She pumped the handle several times, and a splash of rust-colored water emerged. Another couple of pumps, then the liquid ran clear. She held her handkerchief beneath the flow, wrung it out, then swiped her face and neck down to the decolletage of her dress.
Rinse, wring, wipe her arms, the back of her neck. Oh, if only she had a mirror. She stood and stepped back into line—behind the woman who’d agreed to let her keep her spot in line—and glanced around.
Windows lined this section of the building. By standing on her tiptoes, she could just see—her ankle twisted, and she fell against the spot-stealer.
Heat raced up her neck, and she regained her balance. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
The woman glared at her, then turned away.
Kaihtlyn smiled. “Glad I didn’t.”
She’d put up with that type before. Mostly society matrons in KCMO. Looking down their noses at her. Paying her a pittance, barely enough to keep body and soul together.
A voice from over her shoulder startled her. “I wouldn’t be, if I were you. Glad she isn’t hurt, that is.”
She turned. Another woman had materialized. They both took a couple of steps forward as the line moved. “It wasn’t her fault. I practically fell on her.”
The newcomer held out a hand. “Mattie Girton. Pleased to meet somebody with manners.”
“Kaihtlyn Watson. Yes, but God loves them, too.”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “You’re not one of those missionaries coming here to save us, are you?”
She laughed. “No. I’m a wife coming to live with her husband.”
“Ah, one of those.” A chuckle from her new friend cheered her. “Well, good luck. Where ya headed?”
“Nugget. Have you heard of it?”
“Sure. East of the Springs, right?”
“Yes, if you mean Colorado Springs.”
“It is.”
“What kind of town is it?”
Another step forward. “Bigger’n you might expect. Got a church building. Mercantile.”
“So, not a tent city?”
“Well, there’s some left, but most folks have a house of some kind, even if it isn’t much more than a tar-paper shack.”
Images of a home of her own, not a rented couple of rooms in somebody else’s house, filled Kaihtlyn’s mind. Perhaps she’d been too hard on Robert. Harbored too many misgivings.
But his letter hadn’t exactly answered all her questions. Or even filled in a few blanks. He had included almost enough for her fare, though. Bid her come immediately. Said he’d have somebody meet her in Cañon City. Promised things would be better for them now.
Well, they could hardly be worse, could they? She’d spent more of her married life apart than with him. Some days, she felt like a widow.
Or worse, like they’d never been married.
Had she wasted the past four years on his dreams?
Or could they now finally start the family she longed for?
Mattie nudged her. “Move along, little doggie.”
Kaihtlyn smiled at the reference to baby cattle. Yes, she was an infant in many ways.
But all of that was about to change. She’d have the chance to show Robert that she could be a good wife and mother. And he’d want to settle down. With her.
After doing her business, Kaihtlyn waved goodbye to Mattie and trotted around the building to the stage.
Which rolled away from her.
Gathering her skirts in one hand, clamping the other on her hat, her reticule bouncing from its string, she charged toward the coach, shouting at the top of her voice. “Wait for me. Stop, I say.”
She simply couldn’t lose not only her belongings but her transportation.
Robert was waiting for her.
The driver raced past her and caught the bridle of the horse on the left lead. He swatted at the beast with his hat. “Dagnabbit,
Trouble. Did you chew through that rein again? I’m gonna make your lead out of horsehide. Do you hear me?” Another slap with the dusty hat. “Yours.”
He engaged the brake, then held open the door for her, even offering her his hand. “Sorry, ma’am. Stupid beast likes the taste of leather.”
Kaihtlyn nodded, breathing too heavily to talk. Resisting the urge to hug the man. She slipped into her seat, arranged her skirts, and smiled at her fellow passengers. All men. “The line at the privy was long.”
When they stared, her cheeks burned. Perhaps the rough edges of the Wild West were wearing on her, too. People in polite society refrained from talking about bodily needs and functions. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be required to abandon all the social niceties simply because she lived in a small town in the west.
Mattie waved to her. “Maybe we’ll meet up again. Good luck with your fella!”
Kaihtlyn waggled her fingers in response, then sat back and closed her eyes. She might not have been able to fix her hair, but after almost a year apart, that might be the last thing Robert would notice about her.
When next she opened her eyes, the driver called out. “Cañon City.”
Her heart raced. Robert said he’d arrange her travel. Would he surprise her and show up himself? She peered through the window in the door. A small town, at least compared to KC. But bustling, even at this late hour. The sun dipped over the mountains to the west, a beautiful portrait of God’s promise to His children that as long as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, so would be His promise of seedtime and harvest.
Would He include successful gold mining in that promise, too?
Robert’s letter said the mine was paying off well, which is why he was sending for her now.
God’s blessings in material form. And in other ways.
Stability. Her husband. More money than they could spend.
Robert’s words.
Robert’s promises.
Were a house and children included in his dreams, too?
She exited first, then looked around. A chill wind whipped around the depot building, and tendrils of hair slapped her cheeks and
blurred her eyes.
A lone wagon and a mule waited, with a man hunched in the driver’s seat—Robert?
She waited for the stagecoach driver to set her single carpetbag on the platform, then she called out. “Robert? Robert Watson? Is that you?”
The man turned. “No, ma’am.” He lifted his hat. “Name is Charlie. Undertaker from Nugget.”
Undertaker? How would Robert know such a man? And why would he send him?
“Are you here to fetch me?”
“If’n you’re Missus Watson, yes, ma’am.”
She picked up her bag and stuck out her chin. She could get through this. When she stood beside the wagon, he stepped down. Set her bag in the back. Beside a rough-hewn wooden coffin. Then he helped her up to sit beside him. Climbed back in. Picked up the reins. Clicked them. The mule headed down the road.
Kaihtlyn glanced over her shoulder a couple of times. The casket behind them unnerved her. Finally, she could bear the silence—and the uncertainty—no longer. “Why didn’t my husband come for me?”
Charlie exhaled, straightened, and pushed his hat back on his head. “Well, ma’am, it’s like this.”
She didn’t like the tone of his voice. Sad. Like he didn’t want to bring bad news.
Yet she’d forced him to. Almost.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Charlie nodded, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “About a month ago. Influenza.”
“A month?” She pulled his letter from her reticule and checked the date. April 4th. She’d received it around April 16th. “What date exactly?”
“Oh, I’d guess around the middle of May. He was sick for about two weeks, I’d say.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She could have kicked herself. While she sold off her few pieces of furniture, her husband waited for her to come. And while she planned which two dresses to bring, he fell ill.
While nattering at her landlord to let her leave without paying another month’s rent, he’d died.
Made all her preparations, her worrying, her tiny victories in saving a few pennies here or there seem hollow.
Like her heart.
An hour later, Kaihtlyn took Charlie’s hand as he helped her from the wagon. He returned her bag, but her chilled fingers wouldn’t grasp the handle, and it dropped to the ground with a thud.
As did her heart.
Three men stood before her. Strangers. Could this day become any more bizarre?
The first man, the shortest of the three, stepped forward. He held out a calloused hand. “William Ray. Friend of your husband’s. I do
odd chores around town and in neighboring towns.”
The second man, about Robert’s height, six inches taller than her own five foot six, nodded. “Peter Morningside. Not a friend, exactly, but I knew him. I own the tailor shop and men’s store.” He tipped his hat. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Condolences.”
The third man, taller than Mister Morningside by a good two inches, bowed low, as if on a stage. “Montgomery Norris. But you can call me Monty.” He straightened, then stared off into the distance. “To be, or not to be. That is the question.” He smiled at her. “I am in the company of the tinker and the tailor, which means I must be the candlestick maker. In keeping with the children’s rhyme. And, of course, I am. Artist, stage actor, craftsman.”
She smiled. “I think you mean you must be a sailor, a thief, or something else which I forget.”
He blinked. “Oh, do I have the wrong rhyme?”
“A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker.” She peered at him. “So which are you?”
“Definitely a candlestick maker.”
She glared at each man. “Who are you? And why are you here?”
Monty, rooted to his spot, close enough to touch, nodded. “Good questions.” He dusted his hands together. “Charlie explained your husband died, right?”
“Yes. But what does—”
Monty held up a hand. “Your husband left a will. In it, he names you as the sole beneficiary. Of all his earthly wealth.”
“So, I own the mine?”
Perhaps Robert made one good choice, at least. If he wasn’t here, then at least he left her provided for.
The first man, Mister Ray, pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “I have a copy of the will right here.” He handed it to her. “As you can see—”
She held up a hand as she read the document. Near the end, a paragraph that rocked her world. “No, he wouldn’t do that to me.”
Monty’s mouth lifted in a half smile. Or was it a sneer? “I’m afraid he did.” He gestured to his two companions. “And we are the result of Robert’s desire to ensure you are well looked after.”
Trembling fingers gripped the paper, sending it into a paroxysm that scrambled the words so she couldn’t decipher another word.
“But to choose amongst three men, and marry one of you within thirty days, or lose what’s rightfully mine by law?” She stomped a foot. “No. This isn’t right.”
Mister Morningside, the tailor, nodded, shoulders slumped. “You are as surprised and shocked as we are. When the lawyer called us into his office the day after Robert died—”
Kaihtlyn stared at him. “And just how did he die?”
Monty answered for the three. “Influenza outbreak in the tent city.”
“He lived in a tent?”
“No. He went to bring food and medicine to some families. Caught it there.”
She staggered, and William the tinker caught her under the arm and eased her back against the wagon. “Where is he buried?”
Charlie came around the wagon, hat in hand. “The cemetery just outside town.”
“And if I refuse to choose either of you?”
“The will says the mine will be owned by the three of us jointly.”
Robert, how could you?
Leave me for months on end.
Deny me the one thing I wanted—a family.
And now steal my future.
No, there must be another way.
{***}
William suppressed the grin that lit up his insides. He’d suspected Robert Watson of trying to palm off an ugly nag on one of them, but this woman was decently good looking. Okay, her chin was a little more pointed than he preferred. But despite what his mother always said about women with sharp chins, this one seemed downright nice. Maybe not as nice as Millie at the saloon. But he wouldn’t have to pay this one for her time. Or her favors.
He could see himself settling down with her. Having a passel of children. He hoped that was in her plans, too, although he’d have been much happier marrying a ready-made family.
A terrible thought struck him. What if she was barren? Did Watson know something he hadn’t shared with them? The few times they’d talked—usually at a saloon over a bottle of rotgut whiskey—Watson always said he was never home enough to start a family.
But William knew the ways of men and women. Didn’t take much practicing for some folks to have their quiver full in short order.
Well, no worries. She’d pick him, he’d have the mine. And if she didn’t produce any little ones, she could have an accident. He’d still have the mine. He could pay for one of those mail-order brides.
But first, he had to get his hands on the mine.
Check out Kaihtlyn's Choice here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZWTPZY1 and the rest of the series: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09JVS5QBX
Kaihtlyn's Choice releases on April 20th
About Kaihtlyn's Choice:
A widow heads west to meet her wandering husband in Nugget, Colorado. On her arrival, she learns he died. But he left a gold mine and a will. With a stipulation: She must marry within 30 days. To one of three men he pre-selected before he died. But which man will win her heart? The tinker, the tailor, or the candlestick maker?
About Donna:
A hybrid author, Donna writes squeaky clean historical and contemporary suspense. She has been published more than 60 times in books; is a member of several writers groups; facilitates a critique group; teaches writing classes; ghostwrites; edits; and judges in writing contests. She loves history and research, traveling extensively for both, and is an avid oil painter. She also coaches writers at any stage of their manuscript. Learn more at www.donnaschlachter.com/Tapestry
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Carly Turnquist, forensic accountant, is at home in Bear Cove, Maine, happily planning her son's wedding, when she sees a bank robbery. The only problem is that nobody else sees the robbery, and when she tries to investigate, her credibility is called into question. Add into the mix her husband's long-lost brother who disappears, leaving his son behind.
Five and Twenty Blackbirds (Book 4)
Join Carly Turnquist as she accompanies husband Mike to his twenty-fifth college reunion in Arizona. However, a sleepy little town is about to wake up to its first murder in over a hundred years, and Carly's nose for a mystery is on high alert.
Broke, Busted, and Disgusted (Book 5)
Back in Bear Cove, Carly's best friend is being courted by a smarmy stranger, and Mike's latest client is unhappy with him. When the client turns up dead and Mike is nowhere to be found, the police suspect him, and the video and paperwork they have that shows someone matching Mike's description maxed out their credit cards and cleaned out their bank accounts is compelling. But Carly knows her husband couldn't kill anybody. Could he?
Hidden Assets (Book 6)
Carly Turnquist, forensic accountant, responds to a call from her friend, Anne, who is in the middle of a nasty divorce, and travels to Wyoming to help find assets Anne thinks her husband has stolen. But the mystery begins before Carly even arrives when she sees a man thrown off a train. Except there’s no body. Husband Mike uncovers an illegal scam in a computer program he has been asked to upgrade, and then Anne is arrested for her ex’s murder. Can Carly figure out what’s going on, and why a strange couple is digging in Anne’s basement? Or will she disappear along with the artwork, coins, and money?
Petty Cash (Book 7)
Can Carly enjoy a peaceful vacation on Cape Cod, or will a local ghostly legend and a murder keep her too busy to notice what else is going on around her?
A Deadly Dissolution (Book 8)
Carly loses more than daylight when the total lunar eclipse and crime come to town. Can she figure out what’s going on before the suspects escape?
Silent Partner (Book 9)
Carly and Mike take the vacation of a lifetime--an Alaskan cruise. Unfortunately, Carly can't turn off her nose for trouble. Or mystery. Pretty soon she's embroiled with a series of allegations, innuendoes, overheard conversations, and even a shoving match. And before she knows it--a body. Can Carly figure out who the killer is before she ends up floating on an iceberg--or worse?
In the Money
(Book 10)
A million-dollar jackpot, a missing neighbor who won the money, a mysterious investment advice friend, and a cyber-security expert blended together with a dollop of insurance fraud and a smidgeon of gossip—can Carly get to the bottom of it all without ending up sunk in the harbor?
Missing Deposits (Book 11)
Carly looks forward to a vacation when Mike is hired to assist a rancher family in western Colorado catalogue their various mineral rights following the discovery of a large copper field on their property. However, Carly soon learns that the real wealth—and the real danger—aren’t below ground. Someone is out to keep a secret bigger and more profitable than copper. And they’re willing to kill for it.
Risk Management (Book 12)
When Carly is confronted with three terrible monsters, will she survive all three – or will this be her end?
Carly can’t ignore a good mystery. But when her investigations come close to home, she must decide whether to step back or continue, because now her family—and her own life—are at stake. Will she continue? Or will she retire gracefully? Perhaps she can do both.
Mysterious Ink Mystery Bookstore series: Join Margie Hanson, Carly Turnquist’s now-adult granddaughter, as she inherits a mystery bookstore in Edgewater, Colorado. This light-hearted cozy mystery with a dose of romance series is sure to delight you as Margie finds herself in the midst of missing books, murder, hidden secrets, and clandestine affairs. She undoubtedly inherited her grandmother’s sleuthing gene.
The Game is Afoot
(Book 1)
When Great-Aunt Roselda calls, everybody comes running. But by the time Carly Turnquist, forensic accountant, and her now adult granddaughter Margie Hanson arrive, Roselda is dead. Follow Carly on her absolutely final case as she mentors Margie into the finer art of solving a murder.
Little Grey Cells
(Book 2)
During renovations to her inherited house, Margie Hanson, library science graduate, discovers a suitcase with several items, including a wedding album, a baby's bonnet, and a rare manuscript. Who hid them there? And why? And where did two people and a newborn disappear to?
Heavier Than Broken Hearts (Book 3)
Dead men are heavier than broken hearts—at least according to Philip Marlowe, the legendary detective. Margie Hanson discovers a copy of “The Big Sleep” in a box lot of books at an estate sale, and she snags it to sell in her bookstore, along with a spice rack and spices for her kitchen. At home, she discovers neither is what she first thought. Can she solve these two mysteries before somebody succeeds in snuffing her permanently?
Nothing is Easy (Book 4)
Margie hosts a Christmas mystery month, featuring four different mystery books for the month. When a series of murders mimics the plot in the books, and she is the prime suspect, she soon learns that nothing is easy.
Christmas Ridge Romance series: a small town in the Colorado mountains. A community center that is the heart and soul of the town. Can the entire town’s Christmas wish list come true?
A Mommy by Christmas (Book 2)
Standalone Books
Always a Wedding Planner Romance Collection
Business partners Felicity Anderson, the cake baker; Kiki Bell, the seamstress; Cassie Blackthorn, the coordinator; and Chef Saffron Delarosa are best of friends in a town that is a romantic wedding destination for many couples—who work together at Weddings by Design to make every bride’s special day perfect. Could each falling into their own romance be the key to working out their differences and learning to trust each other—and God—with their futures?
A Mistletoe Mystery (Merry Little
Mysteries Anthology)
Christmas trees, cattle—and mayhem. Can Holly & Ivy Christmas figure out who is behind this nefarious deed?
Christmas Past, Christmas Present
A widower and his two daughters; a boy lost in the woods -- all in desperate need of a Christmas miracle.
Can Grace and Luke solve the clues in her grandmother’s scavenger hunt and uncover the truth about their real feelings, or will the tension and their differences in goals and faith drive them apart?
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