Mail-Order Musicians

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Mail-Order Musicians? Well, not exactly. I created a new series and the first book released this month. Miss Penelope: The Brides of Fiddler’s Gap. Yes, they’re mail-order brides, but when you have a town made up entirely of orchestra members looking not only for brides, but to increase the size of their orchestra, then yes, those brides are required to also be a musician.

Enter Penelope Smith, an heiress, and a flutist, who’d rather play her flute than her mother’s social climbing games. She’s twenty-two and considered on the shelf. So, her father takes it upon himself to arrange a marriage between her and one Leopold Wadsworh the third. Penelope isn’t having it, so when she sees an advertisement for a woman of virtue that is also a virtuoso, she makes a run for it. Unfortunately for her intended groom, all she cares about is joining the town orchestra. Little does she know that’s the whole town. All eighteen people. Here’s a little snippet from the book:

The stagecoach came to a jolting stop, making Penelope jump. “Oh!” She blinked back sleep, shook her head to clear it, then peeked out the window. The stage had pulled up in front of a general store. It was painted yellow with white trim and had a white sign with “Johnson’s General Store” painted in bold black letters on it. She smiled. “Finally.”

Before she gathered her things, the stagecoach door opened. “Hurry, Miss.” The driver looked this way and that, a nervous glint in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Not yet, but if we don’t hurry, there might be.” He motioned her to disembark.

She frowned. “Whatever are you talking about?”

He helped her down, got her trunk off the back of the stage, then set it at her feet. She noticed he’d already tossed down a mailbag. Wasn’t he going to take it into the store?

The driver tipped his hat. “Have a nice day ma’am.” He looked around again, let loose a cackle, then breathed a sigh of relief.

Penelope was about to ask him why he looked so relieved, when two huge black dogs bounded out of the general store.

The driver let out a yelp and scrambled up to his perch atop the stagecoach. The horses reared when the dogs barked, and he gave the team a slap of leather.

Penelope’s jaw dropped when he left her in a cloud of dust. And a growling noise. She slowly turned to face the dogs that chased the stage partway down the street. They were looking right at her, one of them emitting a low growl.

“Great Danes.” She gulped as her eyes darted to the store’s double doors. Where was the dogs’ owner? She smiled at the animals as they slowly approached. “Nice puppies, perhaps you ought to go home?”

There came a trumpet blast from somewhere up the street. As if cued, the dogs ran her way, barking.

Penelope’s eyes widened as she dropped her valise and made a run for it. She ran up the street where she saw an older man step onto the porch of a small church.

The barking dogs were right behind her. “Help!” She held onto her hat as she ran, then let go to pick up her skirt and run up the church steps. Penelope hustled past the man on the porch into the church and tripped. The barking dogs reached her and… licked her face?!

“Oh, get off me!” One of the dogs ran his tongue over her lips while the other stuck his in her ear. “Someone help!”

“Mozart! Brahms! Get off!” came a man’s voice.

“Mozart!” A woman’s voice this time. “You ought to be ashamed!”

One of the dogs whined and laid on top of her! “For crying out loud, get this horse off of me!” Penelope wheezed.

“Oh, dear me,” came the woman’s voice again. “Brahms, now you know that isn’t polite.”

The Great Dane sprawled on top of Penelope gave the woman a happy bark. The other dog sat and thumped his tail on the floor.
“I’m terribly sorry,” a young, dark-haired man said. He grabbed the collar of the dog laying across her and pulled. “Mozart, come along.”

The dog whined and did as he was told.

Penelope lay on her back, her face covered in dog slobber, and looked at the faces gathering above her.

“Oh, my goodness,” an older plump woman said. “You didn’t happen to come here as a mail-order bride, did you?”

Penelope tried not to swallow. If she did, she feared she’d be swallowing dog drool. She opted for nodding.

The plump woman’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together. “You are? That’s wonderful! Oh Sheriff Cole!”

“What if she’s not the sheriff’s?” asked the young man that pulled the dog off. The beast looked like he still wanted to make a bed out of her. Mozart, or whatever his name was, pulled the young man in her direction a few steps before he managed to pull the dog back.

Penelope wondered if she had a cracked rib and tried taking in a lungful of air. Good, no damage there…

Another man’s face joined the others. His was handsome with dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. “Ma’am.” He offered her a hand.

She took it and let him pull her to her feet. “Thank you.” She took a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped her mouth first, then the rest of her face. That done, she gave the dogs the stink eye. “You should at least have the decency to look guilty.”

A fortyish looking woman with light brown hair had hold of one, the young, dark-haired man the other. The two looked like they were related. Mother and son, perhaps?

She looked at the dogs. Both were watching her, their tongues hanging out their mouths as they panted. Probably in anticipation of tackling her again.

The woman gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about Mozart and Brahms. They get a little excited around strangers.”

Penelope gave her a weak smile in return, then wiped at the dog slobber on the front of her traveling outfit. “Guard dogs?”

“Of a sort,” the woman said. She extended a hand. “I’m Clara Johnson and this is my son Taylor.” She motioned to the young man with the other dog. “We run the general store here.”

Penelope took a few steps toward her, never taking her eyes off the dog the woman held back and reached as far as she dared to shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Johnson dragged the dog to the church door. “Go home, Brahms. You too, Mozart.”

The two dogs took off as soon as they were released and bounded from the church.

Penelope breathed a sigh of relief.

“Miss?”

She turned around. “Yes?” It was the handsome man that helped her to her feet. She peeked behind him to make sure there were no more dogs or anything else that could slobber all over her.

“I’m Sheriff Aubrey Cole. And you are?”

“Penelope Smith of Albany, New York.” Her jaw dropped when she realized who this man was. She absently pulled the advertisement from her reticule and looked it over. “You’re Sheriff Cole?”

“That’s right, ma’am.” he smiled.

Penelope gulped. “You?”

He looked to his right, then left. “Were you expecting someone else?” He glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. “May I see that?”

She handed it to him.

He read it, then held it up and smiled. “She’s mine!”

A cheer went up as the others gathered around him, slapping him on the back and offering their congratulations. What was going on?

She didn’t have time to ask. She heard growling outside, followed by a tearing sound. Penelope turned to the church door just in time to see her valise being ripped in two by Mozart and Brahms. “My luggage!” She ran for the door, intent on saving what she could. A petticoat fell out. One of the doges grabbed it and took off. The other hot on his heels. He got hold of the other end of the petticoat and pulled, ripping it in two. She didn’t care. She ran for the torn valise, spied her flute, and snatched up the case.

I’ve been a flute player for fifty years. And I’m a music major. One would think that after ten years of being a full time author, I’d have come up with this years ago! But, better late than never! And so we have a series of mail-order bride stories with a twist. This will be fun!

Do you love twists on the same old thing? A recipe, a book trope, a hair cut? I’m giving away a free e-copy of Miss Penelope to one lucky commenter!