Chapter 1

St. Louis, June 1856

Josette LeBlanc gripped her reticule as she stared across the expansive mahogany desk. “Did you say three weeks?”

Mr. Trestle’s long mustache blew away from his mouth as he sighed. “I’m afraid so, Miss LeBlanc. Your father’s will stipulates that if you’re not married before your half brother turns twenty-one, the entire estate and business will go to him.”

“But—” Her voice caught in her throat. “I’ll be destitute.”

“Surely your brother will provide for your well-being.”

Stephen, provide for her? He could hardly provide for himself. Besides, Stephen had been poisoned against Josie years ago by her stepmother, Celeste. Josie would be turned out of the house at the stroke of midnight on Stephen’s birthday—she was sure of it. For eight years, Papa’s will had guaranteed an allowance and a place for Josie to live.

Until now.

She lifted her gloved hands to her temples and applied pressure. Sunshine poured into the wood-paneled office, illuminating the tall bookshelves and Josie’s bleak future. “I don’t understand. Why would Papa give Stephen control of his business? Stephen’s … incompetent. He spends most of his time gambling on the steamboats.”

Mr. Trestle’s face filled with regret. “Your father had always hoped Stephen would outgrow his wild ways, but …” He shook his head. “He is your father’s only son. If you were married, your husband could manage your share of the business. Since you’re not, it’s only right that your brother should manage it for you.”

Manage the business for her? Josie straightened her spine. She didn’t need Stephen’s help. She had spent hours with Papa at the office learning about LeBlanc Shipping. Papa had said she was smarter than any businessman he’d ever met.

Josie wanted to pace, but she remained in her seat and took a deep breath. “Why wasn’t I told of this stipulation before?”

Mr. Trestle shrugged. “Your father died when you were debuting into society. I’m sure he thought you’d be married by now. He didn’t want you to marry in haste, just to secure your fortune.”

Yet now she had no choice. Josie lowered her eyes and tried to hide the pain his words induced. Papa had always said she must marry for love, just as he had married her mama—a Chippewa maiden he had met as a fur trader in Minnesota Territory. The worst mistake of Papa’s life was marrying Celeste just after arriving in St. Louis, a grieving widower with a little girl in need of a mama.

Mr. Trestle fiddled with a piece of paper and didn’t meet her eyes. “Is there a special young man who could be persuaded to marry you?”

Josie’s cheeks filled with heat. At the age of twenty-six, society considered her an old maid, forcing her to give up on the idea of marriage. After her debut, there had been many prospects, but every time a gentleman became serious, Celeste made it known that Josie was the daughter of a Chippewa Indian.

Eventually, the gentlemen stopped calling.

She swallowed. “There is no one.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “No one?”

Her chest squeezed with embarrassment, but she lifted her chin. “There is not a man in St. Louis who would have me.”

Mr. Trestle cleared his throat. “I apologize, Miss LeBlanc.”

She didn’t want to bother with what she couldn’t do—she needed to know what she could. “Can I fight this?”

“I’m afraid not—the only thing you can do is find a husband before your brother’s birthday—in less than three weeks.”

Hadn’t she been searching since her debut, eight years ago? “Do you have any other ideas?”

Mr. Trestle opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he wasn’t sure he should speak.

Josie leaned forward. “What is it?”

Mr. Trestle had been Papa’s most trusted advisor over the years. If he had a suggestion, she would listen.

“I came across something that might work.” He opened his desk drawer and removed a newspaper clipping, but then stopped, his blue eyes very serious. “If I thought there was any other way …”

Josie took the paper and scanned it with desperation—but her desperation soon turned to despair. This was his only idea? “It’s an advertisement for brides?”

“It says there are a hundred eligible men for every single lady,” Mr. Trestle said quickly. “The town is called Little Falls, and it’s on the Mississippi six hundred miles north of here, in the center of Minnesota Territory. It’s primarily a logging community, but with the water power at the dam, they expect industries to crowd their riverbanks. It’s overflowing with prospects.”

Josie held up the clipping, as if it were a poisonous snake. “What do you expect me to do with this information?”

“You could take a steamboat up the Mississippi to St. Paul and then go by stagecoach to Little Falls to make it known you are looking for a husband.” Mr. Trestle pulled out a steamboat schedule, as if he had anticipated this moment. “If you leave tomorrow, that would give you a week to travel to Little Falls, a few days to find a husband, and then a week to travel back. As long as you present a marriage license to the judge before your brother’s birthday, your share of the fortune will be secure.”

Josie stared at him as if he had lost all common sense. “You’re suggesting I travel to an uncivilized town, interview a handful of strangers, and then join my life to one of them—all within three weeks’ time?”

Mr. Trestle nodded gravely. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

Josie looked at the advertisement again.

Wanted: good-looking women for the town of Little Falls, Minnesota Territory. We guarantee a hundred eligible bachelors for every single lady. If interested, please inquire with Philip Sommers at the company store.

“Don’t they want their brides to stay in Little Falls? Who would agree to marry me and return to St. Louis?”

Mr. Trestle didn’t blink. “A man who is interested in a shipping empire.”

A chill ran up her spine. Why would she want to marry a person who was only interested in her fortune? It was a terrible reason to marry.

But what other choice did she have?

“You’ll need to bring a companion,” Mr. Trestle said, as if the plan was already in place. “Your lady’s maid, or a relative.”

“I have no relative.”

“Then your lady’s maid will do. I suggest you book passage immediately, as the steamboats are always full.”

Josie imagined the look of triumph on her stepmother’s face the day she could turn Josie out. Josie would have nowhere to go. And worse, she would have to watch Stephen destroy Papa’s legacy.

Mr. Trestle watched her closely. “This is the only way, Josie.”

The newspaper clipping dangled in her hand. She could hand it back to Mr. Trestle and face a future of poverty and hardship—or she could put it in her reticule, book passage to Minnesota Territory, and take her chances.

Either way, there was little hope.

Josie did the only thing a rational old maid would do. She folded the clipping, slipped it in her bag, and snapped it shut with determination.

Maybe now, for the first time in her life, she would gain control over her own destiny.