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Four Brothers Each Ordered Mail-Order Brides — The Women Who Arrived Were All Sisters Seeking...

The bitter winter of 1878 had a way of exposing the truth about a man's soul. In the remote reaches of Dakota Territory, where the wind cut like a knife and mercy was as scarce as spring flowers, four brothers sat around a table in a weathered ranch house. A single oil lamp cast long shadows across their faces as Matthew, the eldest, unfolded a crumpled advertisement torn from the back pages of a St. Louis newspaper. Before we jump back in, tell us where you're tuning in from, and if this story touches you, make sure you're subscribed—because tomorrow, I've saved something extra special for you! "Mail-order brides," he announced, his voice gruff from years of shouting over prairie winds. "The Westward Matrimonial Agency guarantees suitable wives for hardworking frontier men." James snorted, running a hand through his dark hair. "Desperate women for desperate men." "Call it what you will," Matthew replied, spreading the paper flat. "But our mother's been gone three years, and this place is falling apart. We need women's hands around here." Thomas, his face half-hidden in shadow, leaned forward. "And you think some city girls will happily come to this godforsaken place? Miles from civilization with nothing but wind and work?" Andrew, the youngest at twenty-three, remained silent, staring into the amber depths of his whiskey glass. Unlike his brothers, whose features had been hardened by sun and circumstance, Andrew's face still carried traces of the boy he'd been before their father changed everything. "They'll come," Matthew said with certainty. "Women back East are hungry for opportunity, same as any man. We offer land, security. That's more than most have." Outside, the wind howled against the walls of the Wilson ranch house, a sound like distant wolves. None of the brothers mentioned what truly haunted the place—the ghost of their father and the terrible things that had happened five years ago when Judge Lawrence and his family had briefly settled in Cedar Ridge. "I'll write to the agency tomorrow," Matthew decided, folding the advertisement and tucking it into his shirt pocket. "One bride for each of us." The brothers exchanged glances in the flickering lamplight. None of them knew that far away in Boston, four sisters were already planning their journey west—a journey fueled not by dreams of matrimony, but by an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.