Chapter One

Isabelle Winslow lookedaround her at the walls of Elizabeth Tandy's office. She and her sisters Anabelle and Rosabelle had buried their mother less than a week before, and they'd sneaked out of their father's home to escape his abuse just hours before.

Now, she Ana and Rosie were sitting together on the sofa in Elizabeth's office, reading letters that were from men who were looking for mail-order brides. The non-identical triplets had nowhere else to go, so they agreed to read letters from three men who were all from the same small town in Colorado, deciding if they would agree to be their mail-order brides.

Izzy read through her letter, from the mayor of Hope Springs, and she instantly knew the letter was meant for Rosie. Rosie would be a wonderful mayor's wife, and she did not incline to be the first lady of a small town. No, she wanted someone who would be able to give her whatever she needed in life, and a small-town mayor wouldn't be able to do that.

Izzy nodded, her brunette locks brushing against her cheek, but her heart hammered against her ribs like a bird in a cage. Ana's fingers twisted a strand of her fiery hair, winding and unwinding with every breath she drew. Beside them, Rosie's hands lay folded in her lap, her blonde curls cascading over her shoulders.

Izzy had always admired Rosie for being able to stay calm through any situation.

"Remember," Elizabeth said, her gaze flitting over the sisters, "this arrangement is as much about survival as it is about matrimony. It's a harsh world out there for women alone. And though you wouldn't be able to live together, at least you would be in the same town, and be able to spend time together.

"Your lives are about to change," Elizabeth said softly, "one way or another."

Izzy carefully read the letter that had been handed to Rosie.

April 1898

Dearest Prospective Companion,

My name is Albert Thoreau, a name perhaps whispered on the winds of this mining town for the silver veins I've been blessed to uncover beneath its rugged beauty. Yet, amidst the wealth and wonders, I am alone.

Hope Springs is a town that thrives not just on the bounty beneath the ground, but on the spirit of community, the warmth of shared endeavors, and the quiet strength that binds us. It is here that I've built a life marked by material success. Yet as I enjoy the wealth my good fortune has brought me, I find that it's hard to truly be happy while I am alone.

I seek not just a wife, but a true partner—to share in the joys and challenges that life in Hope Springs presents. A woman whose eyes sparkle with curiosity and kindness, whose laughter is a melody that brightens the darkest of days, and whose presence turns a house into a home.

In you, I seek a companion to explore not only the beauty of this world but the depths of our own spirits. A woman who values the richness of the heart above the glitter of gold, who sees in every day an opportunity for love, learning, and laughter. Together, I believe we can build a life that transcends the ordinary—a partnership based on mutual respect, deep affection, and an unwavering commitment to each other's growth and happiness.

If these words stir something within you, then I eagerly await your reply. Let us take the first tentative steps toward a future filled with the light of understanding and the warmth of companionship.

With a hopeful heart,

Mr. Albert Thoreau

Hope Springs, Colorado

As the silence settled once more, Izzy's spine stiffened. She would go west and marry this man, not as a victim of circumstance, but as the architect of her own destiny.

Izzy's gaze returned to the letter, to Albert's promises of partnership. He would suit her much better than a mayor would, and if she and her sisters went to the same small town, they would still be together. She had never spent a night without her sisters. She'd rarely spent an hour without both of them at her side, and she didn't want to start now.

"I'll marry this man," Izzy declared.

*****

IZZY AND ROSIE CLASPEDtheir hands tightly as if their joined fingers could ward off the uncertainty that clawed at their bellies. Ana sat opposite them as Beckham disappeared. The world outside blurred past them, a mosaic of colors streaking by as the locomotive devoured the miles toward Hope Springs.

"Remember," Ana whispered, her voice a thin thread of sound barely heard above the din, "no matter what happens, we're in this together."

Rosie gave a small nod, her eyes rimmed with fear she couldn't voice.

Izzy's gaze drifted to the window, where her reflection stared back at her—a ghostly specter framed by the sweeping landscape. The countryside was a vast expanse of muted greens and browns, the distant mountains a jagged line against the sky.

The train lurched into the station with a hiss of steam and a screech of metal on metal, jolting Izzy from her thoughts. Her sisters rose with her, the three of them swaying slightly as they gathered their meager belongings. They stepped onto the platform.

Izzy's breath hitched in her throat as she scanned the sea of faces, searching for the man who held her future in his hands. Albert Thoreau—the name was a talisman she turned over in her mind.

"Perhaps they're not here yet," Rosie murmured, trying to mask her disappointment with a hopeful lilt.

As they waited, all three holding hands, Dr. Mercer—the man Ana was marrying came forward and took Ana away after a short introduction. The man looked too serious to Izzy, and she hoped her sister would get along well with him. As Ana walked away, Izzy looked over at Rosie. "I don't know when we'll see her again. Have we made a terrible mistake?"

Rosie squeezed the hand she was holding. "It will all be fine. I'm sure of it."

But Izzy wasn't like her sister. Rosie always wore rose-colored glasses. Even when their father had beaten her, she'd always come up with reasons why he was the way he was.

"Stay close," she instructed her sister, her voice betraying none of the tremor that threatened to undo her.

And then, the crowd parted, and there he was. Even from a distance, she recognized him—the embodiment of influence and affluence. "I believe that's Albert coming toward us," Izzy whispered.

"Isabelle?" His voice cut through the clamor, clear and authoritative, reaching her like a lifeline—or a leash.

"Mr. Thoreau," Izzy replied, her words measured, her tone respectful but devoid of warmth. "My family calls me Izzy."

"Then I shall call you that as well. And you must call me Albert." He looked at her carefully. "Who is this?"

Izzy smiled. "This is my sister Rosabelle, whom we call Rosie."

"It's nice to meet you," he said. His eyes swept over her. In that moment, Izzy understood that she was not merely a bride. She was an acquisition. "Welcome to Hope Springs."

"Thank you," Izzy replied, placing her hand in his with deliberate care. She turned to embrace Rosie, not knowing when she would see either of her sisters again.

She would endure. She would adapt. With one last glance at her sister, Isabelle squared her shoulders and walked alongside Albert Thoreau.

"We will go to church and marry. And then I'll take you to my home and introduce you to my housekeeper, who will help you with whatever you need."

"Of course," Izzy said. She hadn't considered she would have a housekeeper. It would feel odd not to do everything herself. She wasn't yet certain what to think of Albert, but at least he'd been prompt in retrieving her from the train station. That was a mark in his favor. Though he did seem to be a bit too fussy with his appearance, his suit was perfect.

She knew the world was ruled by men like Albert Thoreau, but she would not let it snuff out the fire of her spirit. She was a fixture in his plan, yes, but not an inert one. She would learn, she would observe, and she would find a way to claim her place within this new life.

"Shall we?" Albert finally said, glancing back at her with an unreadable expression as they reached the end of the platform, the beginning of everything else.

"Let's go," Izzy affirmed.

The wedding was a brisk affair as if it were another transaction in Albert Thoreau's ledger. As she stood beside him, clad in one of the two dresses she'd left her father's house with, she hoped that life with him wouldn't be anything like life with her father. She wouldn't stay if he was violent. She simply couldn't spend the rest of her life the way she'd spent it so far.

"Isabelle Grace," the officiant intoned. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Her answer was a faint, "I do." No matter how nervous she was, she'd agreed to marry this man. Albert's response mirrored hers in volume, though devoid of any detectable emotion.

The officiant pronounced them man and wife in a voice devoid of warmth, and as tradition dictated, Albert leaned down to bestow upon Izzy a quick kiss. His lips brushed against hers—a fleeting contact that left no impression of tenderness or promise. It was perfunctory. Izzy hoped he didn't do everything that way.

*****

THE GRANDEUR OF ALBERTThoreau's house loomed before Izzy as they approached, its towering presence a stark reminder of the life she was now bound to. She gazed up at the imposing structure. It was perfect. She only hoped he didn't expect her to be just as perfect.

"Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Thoreau," Albert said. There was no warmth in the welcome, no guiding hand at her back—only the expectation that she would step into the role she'd been given.

"Thank you," Izzy managed. She couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a stranger stepping into a play halfway through, the script long since written without her input.

As the door creaked open, revealing the cavernous foyer within, Izzy realized that this house was not a home but a fortress. And she, merely a silent figure moving through its halls, searching for a foothold in a world where she had yet to find her place.

"Shall we discuss the arrangements?" Albert's voice was devoid of inflection as if he were inquiring about the weather rather than their shared life.

"Of course," she replied, her tone equally measured. It would help to know exactly what he expected of her.

They settled into an ornate sitting room where the plush furniture seemed to mock her discomfort. Izzy perched on the edge of a velvet armchair. She folded her hands in her lap, clenching them tightly, so he wouldn't see they were trembling.

"Your duties will be clear," Albert began. "You will manage the household, host my business associates, and attend social functions as befits my status."

"Understood," Izzy responded. She could feel the walls of the house closing in around her.

"Children," Albert continued, glancing up for the first time, his green eyes probing, "are expected promptly."

Izzy nodded, her throat tight as she acknowledged the demand. She had thought to ask him to postpone the wedding night, but it was apparent that wasn't going to happen. "Is there anything else you require from me?" Izzy asked.

"Simply your compliance," he replied. There was no malice in his voice, only the cold clarity of a man who viewed his new wife as part of his empire.

"Then you shall have it," Izzy said, her words clipped, yet her gaze unwavering. She would carve out a place for herself.

"Very well." Albert folded the document with a crisp snap, signaling the end of their negotiation. As he rose, he extended a hand toward her—not in comfort, but as a formality, a conclusion to their bargain.

"Welcome to our partnership, Mrs. Thoreau," he said, and Izzy accepted his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Thoreau," she replied, her fingers brushing against his palm briefly before withdrawing. It felt odd to be so formal with her husband, but it seemed to be what he desired.

As Albert exited the room, leaving her alone amid the opulence, Izzy allowed herself a single, shuddering breath. She rose from the armchair, her every step a quiet declaration of her intent to endure, to adapt, to survive.

Izzy's heels clicked against the polished floors of the grand foyer as she trailed behind Albert.

"Every worthwhile venture in town bears my mark. The lumber mill, the general store, even the saloon—they all feed into the Thoreau legacy," he said, a hint of pride lacing his tone.

"Quite the empire," Izzy murmured, her gaze drifting toward the window where the town lay spread out beneath them.

"Yes, it is," he replied, oblivious to the churn of her thoughts. "And I expect you to uphold my reputation. A Thoreau wife must be beyond reproach."

His words were cold and factual. Izzy felt the tightening grip of the golden cage, its bars invisible yet unyielding.

"Of course, Mr. Thoreau," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil that brewed within her.

As Albert left the house, Izzy kept exploring. She finally found the kitchen and spotted a woman there, stirring a pot of something on the stove. "Hello. I'm Izzy," she said softly.

"Mrs. Thoreau. Welcome. I'm the housekeeper here. My name is Martha Kirkland." Martha had gray hair and looked to be around her parents' age. She was thick around the middle and had a kind look about her.

Izzy smiled, taking an apron off a hook on the wall. "What can I do to help with supper?"

Martha's eyes widened. "Absolutely nothing. It's my job to cook, and it's your job to tell me what to cook."

Izzy shook her head. "I can't. I don't have any idea what to tell anyone to cook. I'm afraid I was raised in a household where I only saw my sisters and my parents every day. I need to learn what people do."

Martha smiled. "I understand. I'll teach you as much as I can. Did you mention to Mr. Thoreau that you don't know how to manage a household?"

Izzy shook her head. "No, I didn't, and I would prefer he not know that I'm lacking in that area."

"Then we'll start your lessons now, while he's out of the house." Martha smiled sweetly. "There's so much to teach you, and I can't wait to get started. There are no dinner parties for more than a week, so there's time." Martha looked at Izzy's dress. "You'll need new clothes."

Izzy nodded. "I can make myself a new dress."

Martha laughed softly. "Oh, honey. You need at least a dozen new dresses. Make one for yourself but let me get a dressmaker in here Monday morning to meet with you."

"That would help me a great deal!" Izzy said, smiling. "I'm glad I found you."

"Well, I'm old enough to be your mother, so if you don't mind, I'll treat you like I would treat a daughter."

"Nothing could make me happier." Izzy was thrilled that Martha seemed to understand all she needed to learn. Thank heavens. Disappointing Albert was not something she wanted to do.