Книга - His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

His Substitute Mail-Order Bride
Sherri Shackelford


Stand-In WifeRuss Halloway’s mail-order bride never boarded the bride train! In her place is recently widowed Anna Darby Linford, sister of the last woman to jilt Russ. He’s surprised to see Anna again—and stunned when he discovers she’s pregnant. Marrying Anna seems the right thing to do…especially since love continues to evade him.Anna hopes Russ will help her find employment—becoming a wife again never even crossed her mind. Yet as she struggles to start over in the small town, Anna forges a genuine connection with Russ. When secrets from her past threaten Russ’s future in politics, can they protect their family in the making?Return to Cowboy Creek: A bride train delivers the promise of new love and family to a Kansas boom town.







Stand-In Wife

Russ Halloway’s mail-order bride never boarded the bride train! In her place is recently widowed Anna Darby Linford, sister of the last woman to jilt Russ. He’s surprised to see Anna again—and stunned when he discovers she’s pregnant. Marrying Anna seems the right thing to do...especially since love continues to evade him.

Anna hopes Russ will help her find employment—becoming a wife again never even crossed her mind. Yet as she struggles to start over in the small town, Anna forges a genuine connection with Russ. When secrets from her past threaten Russ’s future in politics, can they protect their family in the making?


SHERRI SHACKELFORD is an award-winning author of inspirational books featuring ordinary people discovering extraordinary love. A reformed pessimist, Sherri has a passion for storytelling. Her books are fast-paced and heartfelt with a generous dose of humor. She loves to hear from readers at sherri@sherrishackelford.com. Visit her website at sherrishackelford.com (http://www.sherrishackelford.com).


Also By Sherri Shackelford

Love Inspired Historical

Return to Cowboy Creek

His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

Montana Courtships

Mail-Order Christmas Baby

Prairie Courtships

The Engagement Bargain

The Rancher’s Christmas Proposal

A Family for the Holidays

A Temporary Family

Cowboy Creek

Special Delivery Baby

Cowboy Creek Christmas

“Mistletoe Bride”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

Sherri Shackelford






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08439-0

HIS SUBSTITUTE MAIL-ORDER BRIDE

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“Someone is bound to notice if we’re seen together.” Anna glanced at Russ.

“You’re far more likely to attract attention than I am.”

“Me?” She backed away, bumping into the table and toppling a bag of seeds to the floor. “No one knows me here.”

“Yet.” He knelt and reached for the bag. “There’s still time to become notorious.”

With trembling fingers, she swept the seeds. “I just want a little peace and quiet.”

He pressed his hand over her chilled fingers. “I was only trying to lighten the mood. Neither of us is likely to incite comment.”

“If you say so.”

Russ resumed sifting seeds, his thoughts troubled. The memory of the carefree girl she’d been all those years ago lingered. Surely there was something he could do to bring back that mischievous twinkle in her eyes once more? Perhaps if he knew more about her life, more about her time in Philadelphia, he’d have a better chance at avoiding potential hazards in their friendship. Five years was a long time, and a lot had obviously changed for Anna.

Not all of it for the better.

* * *

Return to Cowboy Creek: A bride train delivers the promise of new love and family to a Kansas boomtown

The Rancher Inherits a Family—Cheryl St.John, April 2018

His Substitute Mail-Order Bride—Sherri Shackelford, May 2018

Romancing the Runaway Bride—Karen Kirst, June 2018


The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, neither shall the children be put to death for the fathers: every man shall be put to death for his own sin.

—Deuteronomy 24:16


Dear Reader (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086),

I was fascinated to learn that a vault on the Norwegian island of Spitsbergen contains almost a million packets of seeds, each variety an important food crop. The Global Seed Vault is an international initiative that provides protection for these valuable commodities against the challenges of natural and man-made disasters.

When Anna was collecting seeds in 1869, there were at least 285 varieties of cucumbers for her to plant. If she were gardening now, she’d have limited varieties from which to choose. While savings seeds from year to year was common, Anna was ahead of her time in post-Civil War America in cataloging the heirloom seeds for future generations. Seeking historical varieties of seeds has become a hobby for many people in recent years.

While gathering and growing different varieties of seeds is a fun and important way to remember our history, cultivating these seeds can also protect against blights. The Great Famine in Ireland was caused, in part, by heavy reliance on only one or two high-yielding types of potatoes. Cultivating genetic variety is often used as a protection against losing an entire crop to a disease.

The next time you’re at the grocery store, think about all the different varieties of fruits of vegetables!

I hope you enjoyed Anna and Russ’s story. Don’t forget to read book one of the series by Cheryl St. John, The Rancher Inherits a Family, and book three by Karen Kirst, Romancing the Runaway Bride.

I love connecting with readers and would enjoy hearing your thoughts on this story. If you’re interested in learning more about this book or others I’ve written in the Prairie Courtships series, visit my website at SherriShackelford.com (https://www.sherrishackelford.com) or reach me at sherrishackelford@gmail.com, on Facebook at Facebook/SherriShackelfordAuthor (https://Facebook.com/SherriShackelfordAuthor), on Twitter @smshackelford (https://twitter.com/smshackelford), or with regular old snail mail: PO Box 116, Elkhorn, NE 68022.

Thanks for reading!

Sherri Shackelford


To my editor on this project, Elizabeth Mazer, for working with authors all day long, and still loving her job! To the other authors in this series, Cheryl St.John and Karen Kirst, I’m humbled to be among you.


Contents

Cover (#u2c6932dc-be74-5cbe-9151-bbcd338a9101)

Back Cover Text (#ue85ed869-5667-576a-b830-6c75008ff0f3)

About the Author (#ude784c6c-2d35-5a0d-889e-5b246493d34f)

Booklist (#ud6c0764f-967c-52ec-b3b3-0ead0834e1c7)

Title Page (#uda442939-173d-5636-ab57-3b24c8c19d3d)

Copyright (#u4f8c3c6f-c9bf-536a-ba69-5bbbe929265a)

Introduction (#u30aee0f1-c661-548d-b5b4-4a518fb1299c)

Bible Verse (#ue5df8a54-f9fa-5b3e-a0f6-1bd87c044e05)

Dear Reader (#ua5a068d3-25e4-5010-a78f-b623491355b8)

Dedication (#u8fa7de6e-eefe-5430-a369-930f0899ea65)

Chapter One (#u9cdcaf9f-6887-509c-9035-475db774aa81)

Chapter Two (#u1ce5d9f0-a4a0-57da-80dc-7cae2aa62b95)

Chapter Three (#ud8e4ee80-2232-51cf-afdc-53816bc00648)

Chapter Four (#ud2a1e755-2c42-5a56-a867-f1f3da3aa558)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086)

On the road to Cowboy Creek, May 1869

“Something don’t feel right,” the wagon driver declared, casting an uneasy glance over one shoulder. “I travel this road every Tuesday and Friday delivering eggs to the restaurants in Cowboy Creek. But something don’t feel right today.”

“How can you tell?” Anna Linford anchored her bonnet with one gloved hand and squinted against the sun. A narrow creek snaked beside the road with scrub brush lining the steep banks. “We haven’t seen another soul for miles.”

Everything in Kansas was exaggerated and larger than life. The sky was painfully blue, the clouds a preposterous shade of white and the horizon seemingly endless. Even the fluttering prairie grasses were an overblown hue of emerald.

“That’s why I’m worried,” said the driver, Mr. Ward. “There should be more folks traveling this time of day.”

Mr. Ward’s skeletal hands trembled on the reins. Anna’s reluctant companion was somewhere past seventy and as gnarled and bent as the old oak tree outside the window of her childhood home. Layers of wrinkles corrugated his face, rendering his expressions indecipherable. Though he’d politely refrained from smoking in her presence, the sooty odor lingered on his coat, and her stomach churned.

As they rounded the corner, the railroad tracks and what looked to be the site of a previous accident came into view. Anna sucked in a breath. Two railcars lay overturned in the ditch, their metal axels twisted. Fresh weeds growing through the blackened prairie grasses and long, muddy gashes in the hillside indicated the accident had occurred sometime in the past month. The loamy scent of freshly turned earth competed with the stench of machine oil and scorched wood.

A sudden breeze whipped her bonnet ribbons over her shoulder. “What happened here?”

“Some fool engineer took the curve too fast a month or so past.” The driver grunted. “Those last two cars have to be separated afore they can drag ’em out of the ditch. Good thing you didn’t arrive with the last bride train, or you’d have been in the ditch too. Timing is everything in life. Take this morning. Bad timing.” He chuckled at his joke. “Too bad the train left without you.”

After founding Cowboy Creek, the council realized the area needed families to flourish and grow. Since women were scarce, they sent back east for brides. Some of the women corresponded with local men before traveling west on a bride train. Others accepted a ticket paid for by the town, rather than a prospective groom, and hoped for the best. Anna’s unique circumstances had left her somewhere in the middle—there’d been a correspondence, and she was hoping for the best.

Missing the train in Morgan’s Creek had been another stumbling block in a long list of disasters for Anna. Thankfully the distance between towns wasn’t far, and the driver from the poultry farm had taken pity on her. She’d learned through the older man’s reluctant conversation that Cowboy Creek had grown too quickly for the local suppliers to keep up with demand, encouraging cottage industries in the neighboring communities.

A crack of gunfire sounded, and a bullet struck the ground before the wagon. A plume of dust and a spray of dirt pellets exploded into the air. Anna’s heart jerked in her chest. The mule brayed and reared. The cart lurched, and she clutched the seat.

His gun drawn, a man in a long, shapeless duster coat with a hat set back on his head appeared from behind one of the overturned railcars. A second man wearing a similar coat followed close behind. One wore a blue bandanna tied over the lower half of his face, the other wore red.

A chill shivered down Anna’s spine.

Beside her, the driver guffawed. “Get along, you two. I’m hauling eggs. We got nothing of value.”

“We’ll just see about that,” the man in the red bandanna said gruffly.

He gestured with his tarnished pistol and approached the wagon. Judging by the way he spoke, Anna marked him as the leader of the pair. He braced his scuffed boot on the wagon wheel, and the bench seat dipped. With careless brutality, he tossed the elderly driver from his seat. The older man yelped.

“Don’t hurt him!” Anna gasped. “He’s no threat to you.”

“You ought to worry about yourself,” the outlaw declared ominously. “Tie him up!”

Anna fumed as Mr. Ward was dragged into the ditch and quickly bound and gagged. To her immense relief, the elderly driver put up little fight and appeared no worse for wear considering his rough treatment.

The lead outlaw leaned closer. He flipped back her bonnet with the barrel of his gun, and her pulse jerked.

“You’re one of them brides traveling to Cowboy Creek, ain’t ya?” he asked. “I heard all about you women at the last train depot.” He gestured toward his companion. “The men of Cowboy Creek are hauling in brides by the trainload. It’s no wonder the town is growing like stinkweed in a wet spring.”

Anna swallowed. “I’m traveling to Cowboy Creek, yes.”

She didn’t bother correcting the outlaw about being a prospective bride. No man wanted a woman who couldn’t bear children. Her late husband had made that fact abundantly clear.

“Must be really desperate to send for a skinny gal like you,” the outlaw said, his mocking laughter muffled through his bandanna.

The insult barely registered. The past two years had rendered her immune to even the most vicious slurs. “I suppose.”

“How come you ain’t on the train with the rest of ’em?”

Her cheeks burned. “I was indisposed when the train departed.”

Exhaustion and stress had exacerbated a recent bout of influenza, and she’d been forced to depart the train at the last minute to visit the washroom. The two brides she’d been traveling with had remained on board since the stop was only long enough to load a freight car with supplies. Though Anna had made the trip as quickly as possible, when she’d rushed outside once more, the caboose was receding into the distance.

“Indisposed, eh? Listen to her talk.” The outlaw glanced at his companion. “We got ourselves a real fancy piece.”

Not hardly. She couldn’t even afford a hotel room for the night. Her late husband’s mountain of debts had exhausted every penny of their meager savings and devoured the profits she’d made from selling the house and furnishings. She’d only managed to set aside a few dollars, which had to last indefinitely. Aside from that, she had nothing. No money. No close family. Even her train ticket was a gift from an acquaintance who’d planned on becoming a mail-order bride before falling in love back in Philadelphia.

The bride’s change of mind had been Anna’s unexpected salvation.

The sound of hoofbeats and a flash of movement in the distance drew her attention.

“Don’t move.” The outlaw pressed his gun barrel hard against her temple. “We got some unexpected company.”

Shimmering through the heat, a rider appeared. The air grew still, and an unnatural silence descended over the outlaws. The rider gradually came into focus, a lone man on a jet-black horse.

As he ambled toward them, a bead of sweat trickled down Anna’s spine.

The rider was lean and fit, wearing a dark suit and boots that gleamed in the sun. His hat brim cast a harsh shadow across his features. He held the reins clasped in one hand, the other loosely fisted on his thigh. The unrelenting black of the sleek horse and the man’s crisp suit was broken only by a glimpse of the stark white shirt beneath his vest.

Her breath hitched. “Russ Halloway?”

She’d expected to greet him, but not here. Not now. Not like this. He’d changed in the five years since she’d last seen him in Philadelphia. His face had been rounder and his shoulders narrower. The man seated on the horse before her had none of the softness of youth.

Russ was formidable, exuding an aura of raw power, both mental and physical. He wore his dark brown hair cropped off his collar, and a neatly trimmed goatee highlighted the sharp planes of his strong chin. Despite his careful grooming, there was something uncivilized about him. His features were too rugged for traditional labels. He wasn’t handsome so much as compelling.

Confusion flickered in his hazel eyes. “Anna?”

The outlaw gave her a shake. “You know this fellow?”

“She knows me,” Russ said, his voice as rough as gravel. “Let her go. I don’t want any trouble.”

The man in the blue bandanna sauntered around the wagon, his gun drawn.

The lead outlaw cackled. “There’s two of us, and one of you. I like my odds.”

“Suit yourself.”

Her captor grunted. “On your feet, boy, or I shoot the girl.”

Russ swung his leg over the side of the horse and casually leaped to the ground.

The lead outlaw kept his gun trained on Russ, while the second man hopped onto the wagon bed. He tossed crates aside, shattering eggs and spilling hay, then ripped open her carpetbag and dumped the contents over the side. Dozens of small burlap sacks tumbled loose. Several broke open, scattering seeds over the dirt.

The chaotic sight unleashed a sudden rage unlike anything she’d ever felt—not even during the miserable years of her marriage.

“Ain’t you got no jewelry or nothing?” The outlaw demanded.

“No.” Anna shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Maybe you’re hiding something.”

Her chest seized, and she wrestled back a tide of guilt. The outlaw was searching for valuables. He didn’t know about the scandal. She was free. She was innocent. She was haunted by a crime she hadn’t committed.

Glancing away, she said, “I’m not hiding anything.”

Russ caught her eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Relax, Anna, everything is under control.”

“Shut up!” the outlaw ordered.

Anna hung her head. Nothing would ever be fine again. She’d lost everything: her family, her home, her reputation. These men were taking the only thing she had left.

The lead outlaw hopped from the wagon bed and shoved her. “What’s all this, anyway?”

“Seeds.” Two years of pent-up frustration pulsated through her veins. “Nothing but seeds.”

“You’re lying. You got jewelry hidden in one of them bags. I heard you talking to the porter in Morgan’s Creek. You said your bag was filled with precious cargo and that’s why you wasn’t letting it out of your sight. Precious cargo, ya said. I heard ya.”

“I’m telling the truth.” She scooped up the pods and extended her cupped hands. “Look.”

“Bucky,” the outlaw shouted. “Cut them open. Every one.”

“No!” Anna called, throwing her body before the bulk of her hard-earned collection. “These have been carefully collected and cataloged. They’re extremely valuable, just not in the way you think.”

“Cataloged!” The outlaw chortled. “Well, ain’t you something.”

The man in the blue bandanna reached for a burlap sack and sliced open the side. Seedpods spilled onto the ground, and something snapped inside her. She was done being a victim.

When the outlaw reached for another bag, she lunged at him. Caught off guard, he flailed in startled surprise. The blade tore through her sleeve, piercing the skin of her forearm. She winced and stumbled backward. The outlaw followed her retreat and caught her around the upper arm.

“That was real stupid, lady.”

Russ charged. “Let her go.”

The lead outlaw lurched between them, his gun extended. “Hold still or I’ll shoot you both!”

The man in the blue bandanna gave her a shake, and his sour breath puffed against her cheek. “What’s so valuable that you’re willing to throw yourself in front of a knife?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Russ spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Everyone calm down.”

“Calm down?” The lead outlaw spat into the dust. “You must be the dumbest feller in the state walking into a holdup all by your lonesome.”

“It might look that way,” Russ declared, an ominous flicker in his exotic hazel eyes. “But I’m actually the decoy. While you’ve been flapping your lips, my men have been surrounding you. If you make one threatening move toward the lady, they’ll shoot, and they don’t miss.”

“You’re bluffing.”

The second outlaw struck Russ in the head with the butt of his gun.

Anna cried out as Russ crumpled to the dirt.

The leader clutched her arm and spun her around. “Leave him be.”

She craned her neck, searching for any sign of life. Russ lay sprawled in the middle of the road, his arms akimbo, his black hat crushed beneath his shoulder. Vivid red blood flowed from his forehead.

“Let me tend his wound,” she pleaded. “He’s bleeding.”

“Later.”

The outlaw shoved her away from the prone man. “If you don’t have anything of value, maybe we can ransom you.”

A gunshot echoed through the canyon, and the outlaw’s hat flew off. Shocked by the unexpected violence, Anna and the man stumbled apart.

Her captor yanked his blue bandana off his chin and spun around. “What the—”

“That feller wasn’t bluffing, Bucky!” his partner shouted. “They’re hiding in the creek bed.”

“Don’t shoot.” Bucky dropped the knife and reached for his gun. “Or I’ll kill her!”

Another shot sounded, and Bucky jerked. The gun dropped from his slack grip. His knees twitched, but he stayed on his feet. Tearing open his duster coat, he revealed a red stain blooming over his chambray shirt.

The wounded man gaped at something behind her. “I’ve been hit.”

Anna followed the outlaw’s gaze, and her jaw dropped. Russ stalked toward them, a smoking pistol dangling from his fingertips. Blood obscured half his face, and a growing scarlet stain darkened his shirt collar.

Unable to reconcile the sudden change of events, she stared in stunned silence. Russ had been unconscious a moment before, and now he was swooping toward them like an avenging savior.

A shot whizzed past her ear. Stifling a shriek, Anna pressed her hands against her mouth. Without slowing his stride, Russ shoved the stunned outlaw, dropping the wounded man instantly. Shock rendered her immobile, and she remained rooted to the spot.

The remaining outlaw took one look at the gun in Russ’s hand and stumbled toward the ditch, then disappeared behind the derailed cattle cars.

“C’mon, Anna.” Russ grasped her around the waist. “Stay down.”

The urgent note in his voice cut through her torpor, and she willed her legs to move.

Russ urged her toward the wagon. He crouched behind the spoked wheel, shielding her with his body, his gun at the ready. With the back of his hand, he swiped at the blood streaming down his face.

“I’ve got two men hiding near the creek,” he said. “Stay out of the crossfire.”

A thunderous volley echoed over them. Russ fired several shots at the overturned cattle cars. Her ears rang, and the pungent scent of gunpowder filled the air. The frightened mule lunged, jerking the wagon. Anna dove forward and grasped the trailing reins. Bracing her heels in the dirt, she leaned back, tugging with all her might. As the mule brayed and bucked, the leather dug painfully into her palms.

Russ reached to help, and she shook him off. “I’ve got this. You keep shooting.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s over.”

The chaotic scene went eerily quiet. The mule stilled. Anna dropped the reins, collapsing against the buckboard. For a long moment, the ominous silence was broken only by the steady tick-tick-tick of the watch in Russ’s pocket and the harsh sound of her labored breathing.

He turned and cupped her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“I’m f-fine. What about the driver?”

“He’s safe, don’t worry.”

For the past five years, hatred for this man had been her constant companion. He’d broken her sister’s heart, he’d torn apart their family, and he’d set in motion a chain of events that had ended in disaster. Yet his striking hazel eyes held nothing but concern.

Where was the villain she’d clung to all these years?

An earsplitting whistle sounded, startling her.

Russ heaved a sigh. “You’re safe, Miss Darby.”

“It’s Mrs. Linford now,” she corrected automatically.

“Is your husband traveling separately?”

“I’m widowed.”

That one innocuous word did little to encompass her current situation. Her late husband had been murdered in broad daylight by an unknown assailant. Shot dead on the walkway outside his office building. The police had assumed the brazen killing was a crime of passion. Rather than having too few suspects, they had too many. Her late husband’s philandering was well known around the city. The extensive list of scorned women had produced plenty of enticing leads, but no conclusive evidence.

Following an unflattering story on the front page of the morning post, she’d been outright shunned by the people she’d once considered close friends. The newspaper had gone into great detail about her husband’s numerous infidelities. Though she’d been cleared of any wrongdoing by the lead detective, vicious rumors had forced her from town.

Everyone who mattered was convinced she’d murdered her husband.

* * *

His head throbbing, Russ stood. “We obviously have a lot to catch up on, but now isn’t the time. Can you stand?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Just a bit shaken.” Anna pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at his forehead. “But you’re bleeding.”

Russ touched the spot. Their fingers brushed, and she quickly pulled away.

He raked a hand through his hair. She was as skittish as a newborn foal, and his appearance probably wasn’t calming her nerves any. He retrieved his plain handkerchief and wiped away the rest of the blood as best he could, his fingers brushing the growing lump.

Satisfied he was somewhat respectable once more, he held out his hand, and Anna clasped his fingers. She leaned heavily on his aid with a mumbled apology. Once she’d steadied herself, he placed a firm hand on the small of her back.

She eyed him warily, and something shifted in his chest. Perhaps it was their previous acquaintance, or perhaps it was her slight frame, but he felt unaccountably protective toward her.

When he’d last seen Anna, she’d been a round-faced cherub on the edge of womanhood. There’d been a sparkle of mischief in her green eyes and a ready smile hovering on her impish lips. The woman before him was a shadow of that memory. Anna was thin, painfully so. Her cheeks were sunken, and the bones of her wrist pronounced.

Despite her gaunt frame, there was a beauty and elegance about her that hadn’t been there before. She’d lost her bonnet in the melee, and her hair was a shimmering waterfall of golden brown. Her emerald traveling suit highlighted the lustrous strands and brought out the green patina of her eyes. She was delicate and composed, though he sensed a sadness that hadn’t been there before.

Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, and Russ turned toward the sound. The approaching rider sat tall in the saddle, an air of authority about him, as though he was accustomed to giving orders.

Anna started.

“Don’t worry, he’s with me,” Russ said, halting her retreat. “That’s Will Canfield, the current mayor of Cowboy Creek. Tell me, Mrs. Linford, did you happen to board the train in Philadelphia?”

Her gaze skittered away. “I did.”

“Then perhaps you met Susannah Lowe.” He was a cad interrogating Anna following her ordeal, but he’d been filled with worry since the arrival of the bride train. No one seemed to know anything about his intended. “Susannah should have boarded the train in Philadelphia, as well. I spoke with the other brides, but no one recognized the name. I know you’ve had a shock, but I was hoping you could help. Did you see her at the train station?”

Without meeting his eyes, Anna fished an envelope from her pocket and extended her hand. His name was scrawled over the front in Susannah’s now-familiar handwriting.

“She isn’t coming,” Anna said.

“Is she all right?” Shock and confusion burned through him. “Did something happen?”

“She’s met someone.”

Russ staggered back a step. He and Susannah had only corresponded, but they’d both agreed they’d suit. Nothing in her letters had given him any indication that she’d had second thoughts about becoming his mail-order bride.

“I don’t think she meant to fall in love,” Anna continued, her hands clasped. “She was quite remorseful about misleading you.”

“Misleading me?” he repeated.

Everything fell into place. Susannah’s letters had been long and rambling, and he’d taken to skimming the contents. They’d come to an agreement, after all, and they’d said all they needed to say to each other until they met in person. He’d made excuses instead of reading between the lines.

Anna gazed at him with pity in her emerald eyes. “You’re not angry, are you?”

“Odd, isn’t it?” The past came rushing back, and a strange sense of inevitability overcame him. “We’ve already played this scene before, haven’t we?”

“I’m so sorry.” A greenish pallor swept over Anna’s face, and she pressed her fingers against her lips. “I don’t feel well.”

Russ immediately recognized the urgent nature of the problem. He stuffed the envelope into his pocket and scooped her into his arms.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll take you to the stream.” His questions about Susannah could wait given Anna’s current condition. “You’ll feel better after splashing some cool water on your face.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. She was slight and delicate in his arms, and his pulse quickened. Recalling the outlaw’s gun pressed against her temple, his gut clenched. He maneuvered down the embankment in three long strides and gently set her on the soft grass near the stream.

She waved him away. “Please go.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering near her shoulder.

“Please,” she whispered.

She was visibly embarrassed, though she needn’t be. He’d seen far worse. “Call if you need assistance. I’ll be near.”

He moved a distance away, lingering on the edge of the steep embankment. This was not at all how he’d expected to spend his day. He thought he’d be introducing Susannah to his mother and brother soon. Instead, he’d be explaining her absence. Having gone through this once before when he was jilted by Anna’s sister, Charlotte, he dreaded the coming days. The compassion of friends and family only seemed to worsen the humiliation.

Russ stifled a groan. He’d missed the signs both times. Was there something fundamentally wrong with his character? An inherent insensitivity to the feelings of others?

He discreetly checked on Anna, then looked away before she caught him. Susannah’s betrayal wasn’t her responsibility any more than Charlotte’s had been, yet her presence exacerbated his shame and frustration.

Given his past acquaintance with Anna’s family, however, he couldn’t avoid her during her time of need.

He raised his voice over the gurgling stream. “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Linford?”

“Perhaps a drink of water,” she replied, her voice strained.

He glanced toward the creek bed, and his chest grew heavy. Why was she traveling alone with Susannah’s letter? Did she need more than a drink of water? And what had become of the carefree girl he recalled from all those years ago?

He didn’t know Anna’s plans, but he doubted Cowboy Creek was her ultimate destination. Her family was well-to-do, and though the town was rapidly adding all the amenities of an Eastern city, they were still a long way from the civilized Philadelphia society teas she and her sister had attended.

Given her current difficulties, there’d be time enough to sort out the details later. She’d been attacked by outlaws—rendering his own problem pale in comparison. She deserved his sympathy—not the irritation of his self-pity.

“Back in a moment,” he said. “I’ll signal my return, Mrs. Linford.”

With a last look over his shoulder, he reluctantly strode toward his friend.

Will Canfield was a lanky man with an engaging charm and a wry wit. Since Russ’s arrival in Cowboy Creek, Will had been an ally and a mentor. He’d guided Russ through the rough and corrupt world of land grabbing and false deeds. The mayor had even encouraged him to send for a bride.

Will reined his horse near the wagon and surveyed the damage. “The driver, Mr. Ward, is bruised, but he’ll be all right. No bones were broken. What about the woman?”

“Her name is Mrs. Linford,” Russ interjected quickly—lest Will think they’d discovered Susannah. “She’s a widow. She needed a moment to collect herself.”

“What about you? That was quite a hit you took.”

“It’s nothing.” Russ lied, his head pounding. “Looks worse than it is.”

“Shouldn’t have happened. We took too long getting in place.”

When the three men discovered one of the brides had missed the train, they assumed the woman was Russ’s intended, and decided to escort her personally. Upon hearing the gunshots, they’d immediately realized the overturned railcars were the ideal place for an ambush. Russ had volunteered to distract the outlaws while Daniel and Will took cover near the creek and surrounded the men.

“I knew what I was agreeing to,” Russ said.

“Go back to town,” Will ordered. “Perhaps there’s been some news about your bride.”

“Miss Lowe isn’t coming.” Russ balked at leaving Anna this soon after her ordeal. She was a stranger in town, to everyone but him. She wasn’t feeling well, and she needed a friend. “Susannah met someone else. She sent a letter forward with Mrs. Linford.”

Shock flickered over Will’s face before he quickly masked the emotion. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the news I was expecting.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I talked you into sending for a bride,” Will said, his voice heavy. “I bear some of the responsibility.”

There it was: the compassion, the sympathy. It should have made Russ feel better. It didn’t. “What’s done is done.”

Will scratched his temple. “How does Mrs. Linford fit into all this? I thought perhaps they’d mistaken the name of the bride who missed the train. Linford and Lowe are close enough.”

“That’s the thing. There’s more.”

“More?” Will guffawed. “Save something for dinner, will you? A missing bride and a shoot-out before lunch is plenty.”

“I know Anna Linford,” Russ said.

A familiar pang squeezed his chest. He’d been jilted twice. Once by Susannah, and once by Anna’s sister, Charlotte.

And Anna had delivered both letters.


Chapter Two (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086)

Reluctant to abandon the peaceful scene for the chaos on the road, Anna lingered by the stream as long as she could before struggling to her feet. The sparkling water gurgled over polished rocks, and a butterfly skipped along the fluttering prairie grasses. Crickets chirped, and birds called from the shrub trees. A spring-scented breeze caught a strand of her hair, and she tucked the lock behind one ear. With the sheltering limbs providing much-needed shade from the sun, she might have been picnicking. Only her torn and bloodied dress belied the peaceful scene.

She climbed a few steps before another wave of nausea overcame her. Pausing, she took a few deep, fortifying breaths.

Though she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, voices sounded near her.

“How fortunate that you know Mrs. Linford,” said the man Russ had introduced as Mayor Canfield. “I’ll leave her in your care. She’ll want to be near someone who’s familiar after what’s happened.”

Blinking rapidly, Anna pressed a hand against her roiling stomach. As the messenger, she’d been prepared for Russ’s annoyance—even his recriminations. His kindness had thrown her off balance. Her eyes burned, and she pressed the heels of her hands against the telling weakness until she saw stars. She wasn’t usually given to bouts of tears, but lately she couldn’t seem to control her emotions.

“What about the outlaws?” she heard Russ ask.

“Dead. Both of ’em. Daniel and the driver are on their way back to town to fetch the undertaker.” Mayor Canfield made a sound of frustration. “How is it that Sheriff Getman is never around when he’s needed?”

“He’s new. Give him a chance.”

“He’s wearing on my nerves,” the mayor grumbled. “No need to rush Mrs. Linford. I’ll clean up the worst of the mess.”

“Appreciate that,” Russ replied. “Start with the outlaws. The lady’s stomach isn’t strong at the moment.”

A flush of heat swept over her face. What an awful time for a relapse of her influenza. She’d been feeling much stronger earlier in the week, and the timing of Susannah’s ticket had been too fortuitous to ignore.

“Understood,” the mayor said. “You might want to clean up yourself. You don’t look so good.”

“You wanted a distraction, and I gave you one.”

Anna touched her cheek. Russ had put himself in danger for her. No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. He’d been looking for Susannah. He hadn’t known that someone else would be delivering a letter in his intended’s place.

Anna wasn’t special. He’d have done the same thing for anyone else.

The mayor grumbled. “I don’t want to lose my replacement.”

Replacement? What did he mean by that? Not that Russ’s future was any of her concern.

How odd that circumstances had conspired to bring them together once more after all this time. The other brides on the train had been so optimistic, so eager to meet the men of Cowboy Creek—their prospective bridegrooms—that Anna had kept her opinions to herself. Following the war, men were scarce back east, and the choices limited. Unlike Susannah, none of the other prospective brides had corresponded with the bachelors of Cowboy Creek beyond arranging their travels.

Anna had been out of place amongst their cheerful ranks. Not only because she was traveling under false pretenses, but because she couldn’t share their enthusiasm for marriage. Her brief time as someone’s wife had left her soured on the institution. She didn’t begrudge them their optimism; she only worried their dreams might not match reality.

The mayor muttered something she couldn’t quite discern before saying, “That wallop saved the day. Gave Daniel and me time to get in place.”

Anna pivoted toward the creek. Russ’s suggestion of a little refreshing water splashed on her face was the perfect excuse for a delay. If she appeared now, they’d know she’d been listening, albeit unintentionally.

She located a large, flat rock and knelt on the hard surface. After tugging off her gloves, she dipped her hands in the cool water.

Footsteps sounded, and she glanced up. Canteen in hand, Russ made his way down the embankment once more. Her stomach dipped, and she whipped around. Everything had seemed so simple back in Philadelphia. Given the unexpected turn of events, her justifications for taking Susannah’s ticket were rapidly evaporating. She’d painted Russ a villain, but he wasn’t living down to her expectations.

“Here.” Russ extended the canteen. “Water will help.”

Though her life might have turned out drastically different had Russ married her sister, she couldn’t use the past as an excuse to defend her current questionable behavior.

Anna offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”

He dipped his handkerchief in the clear water and knelt beside her. “You’ve got some, um, dirt on your face.”

Her hands trembling, she accepted the cloth and wiped her cheek.

“Your arm.” His eyes widened. “You’ve been cut. You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

He took her hand and gently turned her arm until her palm was facing up. The scratch was several inches long, though not deep, and the bleeding had slowed. With everything else happening, the sting barely rose above the rest of her aches and pains.

“We’d best wrap this,” he said.

Confused by his actions, Anna remained passive as he carefully wound the handkerchief around the gash. Why was he being kind?

Her carefully practiced speech hinged on diffusing his anger. First, she’d planned on appealing to their past connection. If that didn’t work, she’d appeal to his conscience and hope the man her sister had initially fallen in love with was still present in the man who’d eventually jilted her.

What Anna hadn’t expected was Russ’s immediate compassion, and she didn’t know what to make of him. Trust did not come effortlessly these days.

She caught his eyes, and her breath hitched. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist.” He knotted the length of material and leaned back. “Can you stand?”

Perhaps he was merely acting this way because the mayor was near. Her late husband had been adept at playing different roles based on the company he kept. Only when they were alone did he show his true character.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine now.”

She pushed off and stood, then wobbled.

“Let me help you, Anna.”

She instinctively backed away, and he followed.

“I can manage.”

“Please. I can’t have you tumbling into the creek.” He softened his words with an engaging smile. “I’ll ruin my new shoes wading in after you.”

“All right,” she reluctantly conceded.

Let him put on a show for the mayor. She needed his help, and distancing herself served no purpose. She’d made it as far as Kansas alone, but her meager funds were swiftly depleting. Finding work wasn’t easy for a woman, and she desperately needed a job.

She allowed Russ to take her elbow as they ascended the hill but stepped away immediately once they reached the top. A tarp covered a body on the side of the road, and the scene bustled with people and activity. A man wearing a tin star pinned to his barrel chest glanced at her and quickly looked away, a blush staining his ruddy cheeks. Anna frowned and glanced behind her. She wasn’t the sort of person who turned heads. Another man tipped his hat her way.

Russ placed his hand on the small of her back in a proprietary gesture. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to the attention. The arrival of the bride train is always cause for hope.”

“They’re interested in courting me?” She scoffed. Times must be truly desperate in Cowboy Creek if the men were casting glances her way. “How should I correct the assumption?”

Russ frowned. “If you didn’t want to become a bride, why take Susannah’s ticket? Cowboy Creek isn’t the usual place for widows to relocate.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Give it time, then. Will and I will do our best to staunch any speculation.”

His authority and importance were evident in the deference the men paid to him. She’d known Russ held a notable position in Cowboy Creek, but she’d thought Susanna had exaggerated his reputation.

In the center of the street, Mr. Ward’s mule stood placidly, still hitched to the wagon. To Anna’s amazement, the animal was unharmed despite the volley of bullets.

She crossed the distance and shook her head. “Poor Mr. Ward. They’ve broken all his eggs.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Linford,” the mayor said from where he knelt beside the wagon. “I’ll see that he’s reimbursed. If any of your clothing has suffered, the town will reimburse you for the expense, as well. You were traveling under our care, after all.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, knowing she’d never take him up on the offer.

She wasn’t traveling under anyone’s care—not really. Though she fully intended to repay Russ for the cost of the ticket, she mustn’t accrue any more debt in the process. Her clothing would survive. She’d sold most of her best dresses anyway. The frills and fripperies required for Philadelphia society weren’t appropriate for her new life.

She bypassed the hastily arranged pile of clothing from her carpetbag in favor of the scattered burlap sacks. The damage was even worse than she recalled, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over her.

Unwanted emotion forced its way past her defenses, and she pressed a fist over her mouth, stifling a sob. Of all the things the outlaws could have vandalized, why had they destroyed her collection?

“What’s all this?” Russ asked.

He and Will exchanged a glance. They must think her odd, crying over a bunch of sacks.

“Seeds,” she said, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. “I know it seems stupid, but I’ve been collecting them for years. Some of these varieties don’t exist anymore except in those bags.”

She’d always enjoyed gardening, and she’d become obsessive with her hobby during the years of her marriage. There was something infinitely satisfying about nurturing a flourishing plant from a tiny seedling. In nature, there was no prevarication. Water and sunlight created a thriving sprout. Neglect led to death.

When her world was falling apart around her, there was order in the beauty of her garden. Flowers bloomed, and the plants bore fruit. Even after a harsh winter, delicate hyacinth, beautiful harbingers of spring, pushed through the soil and snow. There was always new life in nature. There was always a fresh start.

Will rubbed his chin. “Can you sift the dirt and sort the seeds?”

“I suppose.” She stifled a sigh. The process would take ages. Time she didn’t have.

In order to survive, she must find work immediately. A tide of despair threatened to overwhelm her, and she wrestled with her emotions. What was wrong with her? She’d always considered herself a sturdy, practical person. Lately, everything seemed overwhelming and impossible. Perhaps if she shook off this lingering illness and managed a little rest, she’d be more resilient.

Russ knelt and grasped her torn carpetbag. “Why don’t we gather everything together, and I’ll help you sort them later? The task won’t seem as daunting when you’re rested.”

“Thank you.” She gazed at him, perplexed by the suggestion. “But why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You must be quite busy.”

“I’m never too busy for an old friend,” he said. “Although Philadelphia must seem a lifetime away.”

They weren’t friends. Not really. He was offering now, but he’d make some excuse later, out of the mayor’s earshot. Especially when he realized that she couldn’t immediately pay him back for the cost of Susannah’s train ticket.

An odd set of circumstances had conspired to throw them together. It was logical that Russ had sent for a bride through people he knew and trusted, but Anna had been shocked when Susannah had come to call. Their connection was tenuous at best. The social community in Philadelphia had many overlaps, and Susannah’s family had known Anna’s through mutual acquaintances. Not the sort of relationship that inspired confidences.

The prospective bride had initially written to Russ after an argument with her current beau. Moving halfway across the country to escape her woes had seemed the perfect solution. As time passed, Susannah had come to regret her impetuous decision. Cowboy Creek was too isolated, and the conditions too remote from her society friends. Then her beau had come calling with flowers and profuse apologies.

All of Susannah’s reasons for abandoning a move to Cowboy Creek had struck a chord with Anna. The town was halfway across the country from Philadelphia and the incessant gossip thwarting any chance of living a quiet, peaceful life.

She’d known the moment she appeared that Russ would be disappointed at best, angry at worst. Brides were not cogs in a wheel to be interchanged at will, and she had no desire to marry again. But at least she’d be a thousand miles from the scandal.

Desperate times required desperate measures.

The mayor doffed his hat and dusted the brim against his trousers. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Will Canfield, ma’am. I hope you won’t let this experience sour your first impression of Cowboy Creek.” He gave a shallow bow, then he turned to his friend. “You don’t have to stay, Russ. Have the doc take a look at both of you. I’ll make certain every one of those seeds is collected and have them delivered to The Cattleman. Your hotel room has already been arranged. Mrs. Linford.”

“But I can’t—”

Will held up one hand. “I insist.”

The ground rumbled, and Will replaced his hat. “That will be the cavalry, so to speak. You two take the wagon back to town. I’ll see to Mr. Ward. Rest as long as you need, Mrs. Linford. When you’re fully recovered, you and Russ will join my wife and me for dinner.”

As though accustomed to having his orders followed without question, Will didn’t wait for her answer. He strode toward the new arrivals.

Anna shivered despite the warm afternoon. “He’s very sure of himself.”

She wasn’t quite certain if she liked him or not. She’d had her fill of men who insisted on giving orders rather than issuing requests.

“Yes.” Russ appeared resigned to the mayor’s high-handed behavior. “He has to be, given his job.”

“I can’t possibly accept his generosity.”

“You heard the man. He insisted. There’s no harm in accepting.”

“But the room was arranged for Susannah.”

“He knows about Miss Lowe. He’s also aware that you and I knew each other in Philadelphia.”

“Surely our previous relationship is too tenuous for such a generous offer?” Anna lifted her chin. She’d stretched her morality to the breaking point by asking for Russ’s help given their flimsy connection, and she refused to impose on his friends. “I simply cannot accept his hospitality.”

“This solution is best.” Russ motioned toward the wagon. “If you stay at the boardinghouse, people will assume you’re a prospective bride, and you’ll be under even more scrutiny. That’s why we arranged for Susannah to stay at the hotel. Don’t be surprised if you’re still inundated with offers, though.”

“But...but...I’m a widow.” A childless widow.

“Single women are a much-sought-after commodity in Cowboy Creek.”

“I won’t marry again.” Anna set her jaw. She’d been married once, and that experience had been enough. “I’m not ever getting married again. Never.”

Why must everything be so complicated? She didn’t want to be noticed or courted. She wanted to live a quiet life in solitude. She didn’t need much. A patch of land for gardening and enough money to see her through the winter.

She hadn’t considered all the ramifications of a single woman in a town full of unattached men.

“You never know,” Russ said. “You might change your mind.”

Her stomach twisted. She’d gone from the frying pan straight into the fire. Coming to Cowboy Creek had been an awful mistake, and now she was trapped by her impulsive decision.

“I won’t change my mind.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road. As Russ carefully formulated his next question, Anna sat stiff and silent beside him. Mindful of her earlier bout of sickness, Russ kept the pace of the wagon unhurried. He sneaked a glance at his taciturn traveling companion. She didn’t appear comfortable being alone with him, and he wasn’t certain how to put her at ease.

He’d never considered himself an excessively curious man. As a lawyer, he dealt in facts. Extraneous details only muddied the waters. Yet even he had to admit that why a person wound up in a particular place was at least as noteworthy as how.

Anna, a recent widow judging by the faint shadow around her ring finger, had boarded the train in Susannah’s place. The facts were simple. The motivation was not.

She’d traveled halfway across the country. Alone. But why? She’d hitched a ride with a poultry farmer rather than stay an extra day and catch the next train. If she was destitute and isolated, why not ask her sister for assistance?

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Do we need to stop?”

“I’m fine.” She flashed a weary smile. “That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me that question in so many minutes. Do I look as bad as all that?”

“You look lovely.”

She snorted softly. “You needn’t charm me. The mayor isn’t here.”

“What does the mayor have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” She ducked her head. “I’m out of sorts.”

“You have every right, considering what you’ve been through.”

She blinked him at him with eyes that reminded him of a lost foundling, and his heart did an unexpected zigzag in his chest. She was being incredibly brave, but she was nearing the end of her endurance. The sooner they returned to town, the better. He had plenty of questions, but they’d all have to wait.

“There was an influenza epidemic in Philadelphia,” she said softly. “Hundreds of people died. Don’t worry. The doctor assured me that I was no longer contagious.”

“Is that what happened to your husband?”

“No. Um. His death was sudden. Unexpected.”

“I’m sorry. This must be a very difficult time for you.”

She muttered something noncommittal, further stirring his curiosity. She didn’t appear interested in discussing her late husband. He respected her mourning. Her reticence must mean she loved her husband very much. Not that he had personal experience with the sentiment. For Russ, love was an elusive emotion.

Four years before, he’d been engaged to Anna’s older sister, Charlotte. The war between the states had left the country in tatters, and he was finishing up his law degree. The time was ripe to settle down and plan for a future. Charlotte was the daughter of a business associate in Philadelphia, and the match had been celebrated by both families. He’d thought he’d loved her. He’d certainly been infatuated.

His chest constricted. He hadn’t known that his fiancée was in love with another man until she’d broken off the engagement. She’d begged him to accept the blame, and Russ had gone along with the ruse. Her father, Mr. Darby, had a reputation as a harsh man, and Russ had been swayed by Charlotte’s pleading.

He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “How is your sister? Well, I hope.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in years. Not since she, um, not since she married.”

Not since she’d thrown him over and eloped. “Surely you write letters.”

“No.”

Russ raised an eyebrow. The clipped answer effectively slammed the door on any further questions. He searched his memory but couldn’t recall any animosity between the sisters. Then again, he’d been distracted. Though he’d worked as a lawyer in the army, his title had been more honorary than official. He’d had to apply for his law license upon his discharge. He’d been finishing up the studies he’d abandoned upon his conscription while working long hours as an apprentice at a law firm.

He didn’t remember the Darby family with any warmth. The episode with Charlotte had been publicly humiliating. Her father’s tirade had been blistering. Though Russ had taken the blame for breaking off the engagement, Charlotte’s speedy elopement had spoken volumes. Only the most gullible of the gossips had been fooled. His fiancée had been in love with someone else the whole time he’d been courting her. Russ was only human, after all, and the betrayal had smarted.

Anna had been one of the few pleasant memories he recalled from that time. She’d had a ready smile and a sharp humor, even at her young age. While Charlotte had been demure and shy, Anna was an energetic hoyden with a taste for adventure.

She’d also been given to pranks. “Do you recall the time you climbed the oak tree in the backyard and dropped acorns on us?”

“Yes.” A ghost of a smile danced around the edges of her mouth. “Charlotte was livid. It wasn’t the first time I’d ruined a romantic moment between her and one of her suitors.” Two dots of color appeared on Anna’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right.” Russ shrugged. “Everything worked out for the best. Both Charlotte and I arrived where we needed to be. We just took the long way around.”

He hadn’t known Charlotte any more than he’d known Susannah. Given his current circumstances, Charlotte’s elopement had been a blessing in disguise. If he’d stayed in Philadelphia, he’d still be toiling in the basement of a crowded law firm as an underling. Out west, he’d thrived in his practice. As the years passed, he recognized that his pride had pained him more than his heart, but back then, he’d been too young to tell the difference.

Anna met his sidelong gaze. “Then you’re content living in Cowboy Creek?”

“I am.” Russ cleared his throat. “What are your plans? You’ve come all this way, after all.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “If you want to read Susannah’s letter, I can drive the mule.”

The change of subject piqued his curiosity. Each time he asked a personal question, she turned the tables on him.

“Reading the letter won’t change anything,” Russ said. “Your explanation seemed clear enough.”

Two months before, Will had convinced him to send for a mail-order bride. The mayor had decided to run for the Senate and had convinced Russ to campaign for the local office in his place. Voters preferred the stability of a married man over a bachelor, and Russ was ready to settle down and start a family. After corresponding with Susannah Lowe, he’d finally sent for her. Their letters had been cordial. They’d both agreed to a marriage of mutual convenience. Russ had needed a wife to legitimize his political career, and Susannah had been looking for a husband.

For the second time, his fiancée had left him for another man. At least with Susannah, they’d never actually met in person. Charlotte’s betrayal had been more difficult to bear. Especially since he suspected that Charlotte had only been encouraging him to make another man jealous. A colleague had hinted at the rumors, but Russ had ignored the warning. His frustration at Charlotte’s behavior had been directed as much at Charlotte as at himself. He’d seen what he wanted to see. A fault that ran in his family.

Nine years before, a drought had struck his hometown of Big Bend, Missouri, and the ranchers had fallen upon hard times. A ruthless entrepreneur, Zane Ogden, had appeared with a charming smile and a friendly offer of assistance. With a seemingly endless supply of money, he made loans to various ranchers. The initial deals had seemed too good to be true. They were. The fine print required ruinous interest payments and stiff penalties, including the loss of the ranches put up as collateral.

Russ’s father, Gilbert, had been the unofficial leader of the local ranching community, and he’d warned people to stay away from Ogden. When several friends became entangled in Ogden’s web, his father had agreed to speak with the man and see if anything could be done. Those were the facts that Russ knew for certain. The subsequent events were filled with conjecture and guesswork, a mystery that had torn a rift between his two brothers, Seth and Adam.

As far as anyone knew, their father had gone to Ogden’s home late one evening and had never returned. To everyone’s shock, despite his advice to others, their father had taken out a loan. When he couldn’t repay the balance, he’d fled from his debts and his responsibilities. Russ had initially been skeptical, but Zane had produced paperwork containing a signature from their father, with the sheriff as the witness, showing that he’d taken out a substantial loan. Russ figured his father must have lied to his friends about borrowing the money because he was ashamed. Unable to pay back the loan, he’d abandoned his family.

Initially, Russ had struggled with the truth. The man he knew as his father was forthright and honorable. He’d never abandon his family. Over the years, Russ’s opinion had shifted. There were people in this world who could sell sand in the desert. There were people who could steal the pension from a widowed grandmother without blinking. There were people who made their living off the misfortunes of others. His father, like so many others before and after, had merely fallen prey to a charming swindler.

By working around the clock to squeeze out every cent of profit, his older brother, Seth, was able to pay off the loan in full, saving the family ranch from foreclosure.

Seth was convinced their father had never signed the paperwork and was killed, though the body had never been found. Russ believed their father had signed the paperwork and abandoned the family. The difference of opinion had driven a wedge between the brothers.

His father’s shame had compelled Russ in his law career to assist those being swindled or left out in the cold due to flaws in bureaucracy. He’d made a name for himself fighting for veterans’ rights after the Civil War, which put him in correspondence with various former soldiers, including the leaders of Cowboy Creek.

Eventually, Will Canfield invited him to come out and open a law practice in their booming town. Russ had accepted, and when he saw the endless opportunities in the area, he’d encouraged his mother and Seth to sell the ranch and buy land in Kansas. Though Russ had his own house and business in town, at least they’d all be closer. Last autumn, they’d taken him up on the offer.

He’d put the incident with Charlotte in the past, or so he’d thought. Apparently, the past had just caught up to him. Anna’s unexpected arrival along with Susannah’s defection had stirred up all the old feelings. He was as much embarrassed for the man he’d been as for what had happened. There was too much of his father in him. He’d run from Charlotte’s betrayal rather than face the humiliation.

There’d be no running this time.

“Did Susannah confide in you?” he asked.

Susannah’s letters tended to be unfocused and rambling. He might as well get to the heart of the matter rather than wade through a sea of frivolous words.

“Just what you already know,” Anna said. “Susannah wanted me to send her sincerest apologies. She didn’t mean to fall in love with someone else. It just, well, it just happened.”

“Just happened, huh?” Russ didn’t bother to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “I’ve heard that before.”

How could he fault his father for running from his mistakes when there were times when Russ wanted nothing more than to do the same himself? Cowboy Creek was a fresh start, but now he felt like the boy he’d been all those years ago, his pride wounded.

No matter his own feelings, Susannah’s change of mind didn’t explain Anna’s unexpected appearance. While Susannah’s letter might shed light on the matter, Russ wanted to hear what Anna had to say first.

This time, he wasn’t falling for a change of subject. “How do you know Susannah?”

“She’s a friend.” Anna twisted her hands in the material of her skirt. “More of an acquaintance, really.”

“And you hand-delivered a letter, traveling hundreds of miles across patches of hostile territory, from an acquaintance?”

“The social groups in Philadelphia overlap. Surely you remember how things were? When Susannah fell in love, she came to me for advice. Since you were once engaged to Charlotte, she thought I might be of help.”

“I see.”

He didn’t understand anything. Why compound the betrayal by introducing someone from his past?

“I borrowed Susannah’s ticket,” Anna said. “I hope you’ll excuse the imposition, but I’m unable to reimburse you for the fare right away. I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“A train ticket is the least of my worries.”

He wasn’t a struggling law clerk pinching every penny anymore. While his heart wasn’t involved, there were practical decisions to consider. How was he going to explain to his mother and brother that he’d been jilted yet again? Seth might have laughed at him before, but now that he had a family of his own, he was eager for his brother to follow suit. Adam, if he were here, would probably call him foolish for sending for someone he’d never met in the first place.

There was also his political career to consider. Married men were considered more attractive candidates to hold public office. He’d set his plan in motion to run for mayor, and single men didn’t win political races.

Anna glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Susannah mentioned that you were quite successful in Cowboy Creek.”

A prickly sensation raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Business is going well.”

“Considering our past connection, I was hoping to ask a small favor of you?”

His heart beat a strange, uneven rhythm. “Other than using my fiancée’s train ticket?”

Anna’s already pale complexion turned ashen. “It was nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Anna.” Russ scrubbed a hand down his face. All the tattered feelings had come rushing back. He’d been looking forward to starting a new life and raising a family and hadn’t yet adjusted to the disappointment. Having the sister of his former fiancée staring at him like a lost waif wasn’t helping matters. “For Charlotte’s sake, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, Anna. I’m frustrated. Have you ever been traveling along a path, only to find that nothing is turning out the way you expected?”

“I’ve had that sensation. Yes.”

A jolt spiked through him. That’s all he felt. Frustration. Not sadness or disappointment. Not heartbreak. If anything, he was annoyed. He and Susannah had struck a deal, and now she was changing the deal. He’d approached their relationship as though he was approaching a contract negotiation. They both wanted something the other had: Susannah had craved the security a husband could provide, and he’d wanted a family and children. While emotions were best left out of contract negotiations, they seeped into personal matters.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The weary note in Anna’s voice sent a pang of regret through him. “I shouldn’t have asked. You’re not in the middle of this any more than you were in the middle of what happened between Charlotte and me.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

He’d been so young and naive with Charlotte. Anna had been even younger. They were a thousand days and a thousand miles from who’d they’d been all those years ago. He’d approached his relationship with Charlotte as an eager schoolboy, and he’d kept a level head with Susannah. Neither approach had saved him from disappointment.

Rehashing the past wasn’t doing either of them any good. “You said you needed a favor. How can I help?”

There was an exhausted slope to Anna’s shoulders that reminded him of the battle-hardened soldiers he’d met during the war. Her eyes spoke of a soul-deep sorrow, and his heart softened.

“I need a job.” She rushed ahead. “I’m a hard worker. I can cook and clean. I even assisted my late husband in his law office. I heard there’s a new hotel in town. Perhaps they need a maid? You must know people.”

He barely managed to hide his shock at her request. What catastrophe had forced her on this path? Her family had been quite well off. Had she fallen on hard times before or after her marriage? Why did that even matter? She was here now. Here and in need. Plenty of men had gained and lost fortunes while the country rebuilt. Following the war, more than one man had made imprudent investments.

“You’re exhausted,” he said. She was in no shape to clean hotel rooms. “We’ll settle everything after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have imposed.”

Russ flipped back the edge of his coat and planted one hand on his hip. The throbbing in his head intensified. He wasn’t putting her off. He was truly concerned about her current state. Why did she insist on reading the worst into his innocent words?

The deep creases around Anna’s eyes spoke of too little sleep and too much worry. She was fatigued beyond a lengthy train journey.

Russ looked at her for the first time. Really looked at her. A thousand tiny clues added together. Anna was widowed. She was riding the train on a borrowed ticket. She was too thin. She was desperate for a job but hadn’t gone to her sister for help.

Something had gone terribly wrong in her young life.

She was evading the real question, and though it pained him to push her, he craved answers. “I could better help you if you told me the truth.”


Chapter Three (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086)

Why did Russ have to be so perceptive?

Pursing her lips, Anna pointed at the distant horizon. “Is that Cowboy Creek?”

“Yes.”

“It’s larger than I expected.”

“The train route helps. We have a thriving depot.”

“That’s nice.”

“I promise I only have your best interests in mind,” Russ said. “If you reconsider, and you’d like a friend, I’m here for you.”

She was desperately trying to evade his questions. Most men enjoyed talking about themselves. Why must he keep turning the conversation back to her?

“You know the truth.” She twisted a bonnet ribbon around her finger. “I’m a widow. I borrowed Susannah’s ticket. I need work. You know everything there is to know about me.”

Her pulse thrummed in her ears. Though she longed to confide in someone, she caught the words before they escaped. If he knew what they were saying about her in Philadelphia, he’d never agree to help. At best, he’d treat her with pity, at worst, derision. This was her one chance to start over. She didn’t have any other choice but to remain silent.

“Anna,” he began, “I don’t feel I know you at all. Not anymore.”

“All I need is a job reference,” she said. “Finding work benefits both of us. I’ll be able to repay the cost of the ticket sooner. Unless you’re uncomfortable. We haven’t seen each other in years, after all.”

“I’m happy to give you a reference. I’ll do whatever I can. You have to know that you can count on me for help.”

Anna narrowed her gaze. What if she was making a terrible mistake? Trusting the wrong man had led her down the path of destruction once before. What if he wanted something in repayment for helping her? She didn’t have much to give. Perhaps he was being charitable, or perhaps not. These past few years had her questioning everyone’s motives. Though he must know she had nothing to offer, she’d best be on her guard.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound surly.”

She’d take him at his word that he’d help her find a job. Nothing more. Cowboy Creek was her best chance at living free of the scandal, and she most certainly wasn’t confiding in anyone about her recent troubles. Especially Russ. With his past connections in Philadelphia, he could rip open the story before she had a chance to escape again.

“I understand pride, Anna.” He glanced at her askance. “Just remember that pride often comes before a fall.”

“Pride is not the problem.”

She had more important things to consider. Things like surviving to the next week, the next month, the next year. Pride was the least of her worries. The news in Philadelphia had shredded whatever vanity she might have possessed.

“Then I won’t press you,” Russ said.

Her heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm once again. “Thank you.”

“We’re almost there. I’m sure you’ll want to rest after we’ve visited the doctor.”

For now, she’d be grateful for the things that had turned out well. At least she wasn’t stranded in the next town over. At least she’d made it this far. At least he didn’t know about the scandal. Yet.

He was suspicious of her. Sooner or later that skepticism was going to get the better of him, and he was going to make inquiries. He’d sent to Philadelphia for a bride, after all, which meant he kept in touch with people he knew there. How long could she hide? Once he mentioned their renewed acquaintance to his friends back east, someone was bound to share the salacious gossip. After all, it had only been three months since Edward’s death had made her a widow.

At least letters traveled slowly in this part of the country. Perhaps by the time he discovered her secret, she’d have enough money to relocate to another town.

“I don’t need a doctor,” she grumbled. “I just need a little rest.” She stifled a yawn. Lately, it felt as though no matter how much she slept, she still needed another hour or two.

Russ touched the gash on his forehead. “The doctor is for me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Relax, Anna. I’m teasing you. I’m trying to put you at ease. You used to enjoy my jokes.”

She tugged at a loose button on the wrist of her glove. “That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then.”

He rested his hand over hers, dwarfing her fingers in a brief embrace before pulling away. “You have my condolences on your father.”

His touch stirred up long-dormant feelings. The statement was a diplomatic concession considering the treatment he’d received from her father following the jilting.

“His death was painless.” Her stomach dropped. Russ knew her father had passed away, therefore he must keep in touch with people back home. People who might share the circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. “He didn’t suffer.”

“Losing a loved one is never easy.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs once more. He was going to discover the truth, and then what? Would he keep her secret?

“He always seemed invincible.” She tugged on the loose thread. If she lost the button on her glove, she’d never find a match. She’d have to replace them all. “He was always such a powerful presence, I somehow thought he’d live forever.”

“I suppose we all think our parents are invincible when we’re young.”

A memory tugged at the edges of her recollections. There was a hint of scandal surrounding Russ’s father, though she couldn’t recall the exact circumstances. She’d been too young at the time, and whispered conversations had come to a halt when she entered the room.

She yanked the button free. What did buttons matter? What did any of this matter anyway? There was no use delving into either of their pasts. After today, she doubted she’d see Russ again. He probably wanted to be rid of her just as quickly as she wanted to escape his company.

Disappointment warred with relief. The less he saw of her, the less likely he was to consider her past.

If only he was the ogre she’d invented over the past five years instead of this handsome, solicitous savior. Then again, nothing else had gone as planned; why should her experience with Russ be any different? She’d missed the train, she’d been accosted by outlaws, and Russ wasn’t the cruel villain she’d invented after he’d jilted her sister. The more she knew about him, the more he challenged the assumptions she’d brought forward from all those years ago.

She was tired. She was out of sorts. Perhaps she simply wasn’t reading beneath the surface of his actions. The facts were firmly embedded in her memory: Charlotte had eloped weeks after the jilting to avoid the scandal, and their father had disowned her. Anna hadn’t spoken to her sister since.

If Charlotte and Russ had married, then Anna would still be in touch with her sister. If she’d had Charlotte to lean on after their father’s death, she might not have entered such a hasty and unfortunate marriage. If Russ had greeted her announcement about Susannah with anger and recriminations instead of pushing his feelings aside, then she’d feel better about deceiving him.

If. If. If.

The disparity in the villain she’d created and the man before her made her all the more determined to repay her debt quickly. Yet more questions balanced on the tip of her tongue. Considering the outsize role Russ had played in her life, she didn’t know much about him. He’d been in the war. His father was gone. He had siblings. That’s all Anna could recall.

Against her better judgment, she was hungry for information about the life Russ led outside of his law practice. Perhaps the information might even be useful as she settled, albeit temporarily, in the town.

“You lost your father, too, didn’t you?” she asked.

“He’s not part of our family any longer.”

Shock rippled through her. She’d always assumed the hint of scandal was linked to his father’s death, but the evasive answer pointed to something else. “What was he like?”

She didn’t know why she’d asked such a personal question beyond a nagging sense of puzzlement about his father. Even if Charlotte had known the truth, she was hardly likely to confide in her younger sister.

“He was a good man,” Russ said, his voice flat. “Proud. Honorable. Loyal to his family. Too proud, sometimes.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stirred. Though his words were glowing with praise, the tone didn’t match his sentiment. There was a slight edge in Russ’s voice, a pursing of his lips when he spoke. As someone familiar with keeping secrets, she recognized the signs. There was more to Russ’s father than what he was saying.

“You have a brother, as well, don’t you?” she prodded.

“Two of them, to be precise. Seth lives just outside of Cowboy Creek with his new wife. They recently adopted three boys and his wife’s niece.”

“Oh my, that’s quite a household.”

“I haven’t seen my younger brother, Adam, in years.” This time the sorrow in Russ’s voice was obvious. “I used to receive letters, but I haven’t gotten one in months. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I have to believe he’s still out there somewhere. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’d know if he was gone.” Russ scoffed. “That probably sounds stupid.”

“Not at all.”

Anna’s eyes burned. Charlotte had always been a distant, ethereal creature. The years between them had been a chasm. Charlotte had been older and elegant, with little patience for a younger sister with dirt beneath her fingernails and muddy circles over her knees from digging in the garden.

Even during the war, Charlotte had been sought after by the young bachelors in the community. She’d had pale blond hair, soft blue eyes and a delicate figure. She spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. Everything about her seemed to attract men like honeybees to nectar.

How many times had Anna knelt on the balcony above the parlor, peeking through the railings, when Charlotte was holding court? Charlotte had been a fragile porcelain figurine. She was to be looked upon and admired but never touched or bothered. Most of her beaus had ignored Anna. Not Russ. He’d always brought her a sweet or an extra flower. He’d wink at her, as though they shared a special secret.

For someone who was largely ignored in the household, she’d found his attention heady. Anna had adored his visits. Then he’d betrayed Charlotte. He’d betrayed their family. He’d betrayed her.

Yet despite her better judgment, Anna was still drawn to the man before her. Did she trust her feelings or the facts? Did she trust the man who’d been kind to a lonely young girl, or did she accept that he’d callously thrown aside her sister and tossed their family into disarray? How did those two men exist in the same person?

A wagon passed them, and the driver tipped his hat.

“We’re almost home,” Russ said. “The traffic will be heavy soon.”

Home. For now. The future remained uncertain.

A skyline of boxy structures appeared above the horizon. The town was larger than she’d expected. Buildings sprawled into the distance, undulating over the rolling hills. Additional frame structures in various stages of completion surrounded the outskirts. A few of the buildings rose three stories into the sky. A train whistle blew, and she caught sight of a steam engine leaving a trail of smoke.

Another rider passed them at a gallop, the horse’s tail whipping in the wind.

The nearer they moved toward the town, the more wagons and riders appeared. Everyone seemed to know Russ. He made introductions and soon all the faces blurred together. After meeting countless new people, she gave up even trying to remember their names.

As though sensing she was overwhelmed, Russ caught her gaze. “New visitors are always a curiosity. Especially when a bride train comes in.”

She touched the side of her bonnet. “Will there be any awkwardness for you, because of Susannah?”

“No.” He bent his head. “I kept the news to a select few. I’ll tell them all soon enough. After I’ve read Susannah’s letter.”

Anna recalled the letter with a jolt. Had Susannah mentioned the scandal? The thought hadn’t even occurred to her before now. Pressing a hand against her pounding heart, Anna took a deep breath. There was no reason for Susannah to reveal anything about her. Anna was merely the messenger. Her role hardly warranted a mention.

Russ pointed toward a shopfront. “Marlys Mason is the town doctor. She’s got some newfangled ideas about how to treat illness, but she has an excellent rate of success, so people mostly take her advice. It’s too bad that some of the old timers won’t see a woman no matter what the circumstances.”

“A lady doctor?” Anna had never considered such a thing but immediately liked the idea. “Why shouldn’t a woman be a doctor?”

“Folks get stuck in their ways, but times change. Sometimes it just takes a little longer than we’d like.”

“Women should get to be whatever they want to be.”

Anna had wanted to write articles about gardening for the local newspaper, but her husband had disapproved. He didn’t want his colleagues to think his wife had to work for a living. Especially at something as coarse and common as the women’s pages.

Russ made a sound of frustration. “Looks like the doc is out. She often assists the town midwife, Leah Gardner, when there’s a challenging case. It’s difficult to keep regular hours.”

A large chalkboard had been set up beside the etched glass window of the doctor’s office. Russ climbed from the wagon, retrieved the whittled piece of chalk dangling from a length of twine, then wrote Anna’s name along with The Cattleman as her place of residence.

Anna made a note of the street. She’d return later and erase her name. A doctor’s visit was an added expense she could ill afford.

“Put down your name, too,” Anna insisted. “You should have that cut stitched.”

“I’m fine. It’s too late for stitching anyway.”

“If I must see the doctor, then so must you.”

Russ dutifully wrote his name and her gaze narrowed. She had a suspicion he’d come back and erase it too as soon as he ensured she was settled. She stifled a giggle. They’d run into each other if she wasn’t careful.

“I’m going to ask Dr. Mason tomorrow if you’ve come for a visit,” she said.

Chagrin flickered over his features, and she grinned.

“All right,” he said. “But this works both ways. I’ll know if you’ve skipped your appointment, too.”

Heat crept up her neck. “Except I wasn’t hit over the head.” She couldn’t very well ask the doctor if he’d visited if she wasn’t planning on doing the same. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been ill, and someone should look at that cut on your arm.” He climbed into the wagon once more. “Don’t worry, the visit will be charged to the town.”

Her cheeks burned. The only thing more humiliating than being destitute was having everyone else know her circumstances. One needn’t be a Pinkerton detective to ascertain the situation. She hadn’t exactly concealed the fact. She’d begged Russ for a job before, and she was traveling on a borrowed train ticket she couldn’t repay. As demeaning as her circumstances may be, she didn’t suppose there was any harm if Russ knew the truth of her finances. He’d be more likely to assist her if he knew the dire nature of her situation.

“I’m not one of the brides,” she said. “And I can’t accept any preferential treatment on false pretenses.” She might as well set her circumstances straight from the beginning.

“The mayor is responsible for the reputation of the town. Having a lady accosted on the road outside of Cowboy Creek is most definitely bad press. Indulge him, if only for the sake of community pride.”

“If a visit to the doctor will set the mayor’s mind at ease, I suppose I can concede the point.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Perhaps Dr. Mason had some suggestions for regaining her energy. The next few months were going to be difficult, and she needed her stamina. She had to stash as much money as possible before Russ—or someone else—discovered her secret.

“This may be my only opportunity to meet a real live lady doctor. How can I pass that up?” she said.

“You never know, we may have as many female as male doctors in the future.”

“The mills of the gods grind slow,” she quoted.

“But they grind fine,” Russ completed Plutarch’s line.

Perhaps finding a job here wouldn’t be as difficult as in Philadelphia. A little anonymity didn’t hurt. Having one’s name slandered in the newspapers impeded gainful employment.

The town vibrated with activity. Men on horseback and people driving wagons laden with supplies jockeyed for position along the wide, well-kept streets. Shoulders brushed, and a sea of hats bobbed along the boardwalk. Townspeople passed each other in opposite directions, many calling greetings to one another. Russ was forced to wait several minutes before he eased the wagon onto the street once more.

A low whistle sounded, and she glanced around. A man tipped his hat at her with a leering grin.

Russ glared at the man, and the whistler rapidly disappeared into the crowd.

“I’m sorry for that,” Russ apologized. “Let me know if you have any trouble. In some respects, Cowboy Creek is little more than a glorified cow town. Women are still somewhat of a novelty around here.”

Another wave of nausea that had nothing to do with her previous illness rippled through her stomach. She didn’t want attention. She didn’t want to be courted.

“How do I make them stop?”

“Get married, I suppose.”

“Not likely.”

His expression shifted. “I’m sorry, Anna. That was a thoughtless comment given your circumstances. Please accept my apologies.”

He thought her a grieving widow. He couldn’t be further from the truth. One thing was certain, for someone who’d had her fill of men, she’d picked a terrible place to start over.

“It’s not your fault.” She didn’t want him to be kind. She’d forgotten kindness even existed. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t missed the train.”

“Why did you miss the train?”

“Bad timing. That’s what Mr. Ward said this morning. He said life is all about timing.”

Even if she’d been older when Russ had come to call on her sister, he’d have never glanced her way. There were few women who didn’t pale in comparison to Charlotte. There was no use pining over the past.

Life was all about timing, and she’d been handicapped by a faulty watch.


Chapter Four (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086)

The sun had reached its zenith by the time Russ was able to break for the noon meal. After delivering Anna safely to the hotel, he’d visited the office before returning home at midday. There’d been some confusion over Anna’s name at the hotel—the porter had been expecting Susannah—but Russ had smoothed over the awkward moment as best he could. He tipped his chair against the side of the house and rested his crossed ankles on the porch rail. A cool breeze stirred the warm air, and he’d slung his coat over the back of the chair.

Susannah’s letter rested on the table beside him. She’d apologized profusely in tiny script for several pages. The explanation was better delivered succinctly, but brevity had never been Susannah’s strong suit. His attention had drifted after her third apology, which only seemed to exacerbate the sting, and he’d skimmed the last page before the postscript had piqued his curiosity.

Look out for Anna. The past three months haven’t been easy, and she deserves better.

For all Susannah’s lengthy elocution, that line had been sparse. He figured she referred to Anna’s husband’s death. A pang of regret reverberated through his chest. Great sorrow only came with great love. Anna had said her husband’s death was “sudden” without revealing more. What must it be like, loving someone so much that you couldn’t let them go, even in death? What kind of man had Anna loved? Given her family connections and her father’s ambitions, her husband must have held some prominence in the community.

If he’d been a community leader, Mr. Linford’s death would be noted in the newspapers. A fellow law school graduate had recently sent Russ a copy of the Philadelphia Morning Post after winning an influential case. If Russ recalled correctly, the paper had been dated about three months before. He hadn’t cleaned off the dining room table in ages, and the newspaper was probably buried beneath a stack of legal documents.

He half stood and then sat back down again. Digging into the past felt intrusive. Anna Linford’s life was none of his business. He was protective of her, that was all. A natural inclination given their previous acquaintance. He had no romantic aspirations toward her or anyone else. Having lost out in love twice already, competing with the memory of a dead man held no appeal.

He’d seen that sort of soul-deep love before in his parents’ marriage before his father’s fall from grace. As though she were summoned by his thoughts, he recognized his mother’s silhouette near the end of the block, her steps long and purposeful. Dread filled his stomach. He’d have to tell her about Susannah, but perhaps news of the attack on the road had failed to circulate.

Moments later, she climbed the shallow porch stairs and leaned against the banister. “Lovely afternoon we’re having.”

Sunlight glinted off the dark hair beneath the brim of her ribboned hat. Though she’d never admitted as much, she was still mourning the disappearance of her husband nearly a decade before. Once or twice, Russ had broached the subject, and she’d gently but firmly rebuked his questions. Whatever she thought of her husband’s defection, she kept the feelings to herself. Instead, she clung to his memory with love.

“Isn’t today your meeting with the committee?” Russ righted his chair. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

On Mondays, she met with the opera house committee and often stayed well into the afternoon. They invariably dined at one of the restaurants in town.

She hoisted a perfectly winged eyebrow. “I heard there were outlaws in the area.”

Russ heaved a sigh. “Not anymore.” Keeping the encounter a secret had been too much to ask. Gossip spread faster than a plague of locusts.

His mother gestured toward the house. “Did you find your lunch?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to cook for me. I can eat at The Cattleman on the days you have meetings.”

“I like to take care of you once in a while.”

“Then I won’t argue. Too much. Having home-cooked meals has been a rare treat.”

While his mother spent the bulk of her time living with Seth on his ranch outside of town, she was staying with Russ for a few weeks while Seth and Marigold adjusted to married life with an instant family.

Just last month, Seth had become the guardian of three boys following the death of a childhood friend. Though a confirmed bachelor, Seth had taken on the added responsibility of raising three precocious children. The pretty, new schoolteacher had assisted with the transition. His brother had fallen head over heels for Marigold, and the two had recently married and adopted the three boys, as well as Marigold’s young niece, Violet, who had come to town. Seth’s bachelor home had gone from a hollow shell to a house brimming with love practically overnight. The transformation in his brother was both astonishing and heartwarming.

Russ pulled out a chair. “Did you visit Seth today?”

“I watched the boys for a few hours. Violet is still adjusting. She’s only seven and the last few months have been difficult. Before she lived for that brief time with her father, she was accustomed to having Marigold’s attention all to herself. Now she has three brothers to contend with. Marigold and Seth wanted a little time alone with her.”

Russ nodded. “She’s gone through a lot, losing her mother and being taken from her aunt. She appears resilient, though.”

“She’s an absolute delight. I took the boys to the opera house. I think Harper has a natural talent for the theater. He did cartwheels across the stage while Pippa was attempting to rehearse. And now James Johnson is taking them fishing for the afternoon.”

James was married to the local dressmaker in town, and they had a daughter, Ava. He did odd jobs around town when he wasn’t working at the stockyards. The boys had been fascinated by his beaded jacket with the leather fringe, and they’d struck up a friendship. When work at the stockyards was slow, James occasionally took them fishing.

“I didn’t realize Pippa was in town.”

“Her husband is visiting on railroad business. She’s using the opportunity to stage a performance of Lord Dundreary Abroad. The committee has approved the funding for a new set and costumes. Should be our best show yet.”

Pippa and her husband, Gideon Kendrick, had met and married in Cowboy Creek. Though Gideon’s work with the railroad took him all over the country, they returned to Cowboy Creek whenever possible. A talented actress, Pippa was also masterful with costumes and makeup. Everyone looked forward to attending the theater when she performed.

“If Pippa is involved,” Russ said, “I’m already looking forward to the performance. I’ll escort you on debut night.”

“I’d like that. Perhaps Seth and Marigold can join us.”

“Seth isn’t much for the theater,” Russ said, “but he’ll go anywhere Marigold leads him. She’s good for him. I’m happy for Seth.”

“I am, too. I spent too many years leaning on him after...after what happened with your father. It wasn’t fair to him, having all that responsibility.”

“Adam and I were just as guilty of depending on Seth too much.”

Seth had always been the responsible son. He’d become the patriarch of the family after their father disappeared, rebuilding the family legacy while Adam and Russ had pursued other interests. All three of them had taken Seth’s hard work and dedication for granted.

Seth had repaid the loan to Ogden by selling off some of the land, only to lose the herd when he left for war. Thankfully, they’d sent their mother to live in Philadelphia before armies from both sides had burned and looted their way through Missouri. A dutiful son, Seth had regained his fortunes in the cattle markets of Colorado.

Without uttering a single word of complaint, Seth had put his wants and needs aside and sent for their mother. He’d come to Cowboy Creek to start over yet again, and his hard work was finally paying off.

None of them had realized how much of a burden he’d shouldered until he took on the added responsibility of the three Radner boys after the death of their parents. Seeing the change in his brother following his marriage to Marigold, Russ was ashamed he hadn’t taken notice sooner. He hadn’t realized how unhappy his brother had been until he’d seen him happy.

His mother took a seat on the proffered chair. “Marigold has been a darling, and she takes excellent care of the boys.” His mother adored the Radner children and enjoyed living on the ranch, helping Marigold and caring for her four new grandchildren. “We all owe Seth a debt of gratitude.” His mother scuffed the ground with her toe. “Have you heard from Adam recently?”

“Not in months. You know how it is with him. His work takes him to places we can’t follow.”

Following the war, Adam had joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He’d sent a few letters over the years, but he didn’t correspond regularly. Russ didn’t know the details of his brother’s work, but he knew Adam was often in dangerous situations.

His mother dabbed at her eye. “I pray for him every day.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, mother. The agency would contact us if something happened.”

“You boys mean the world to me.” Unshed tears thickened her voice. “I’d be devastated if anything happened to you.”

His anger flared. The next time he saw Adam, they were going to have a long talk. Their mother deserved better. Adam could at least write a letter now and again, letting her know he was alive.

“Nothing is going to happen to any of us,” Russ said. “Especially me. I’m just a pencil pusher. Nothing dangerous in my line of work.”

“Oh really?” She dropped the handkerchief from her eye and pursed her lips. “Then what about this afternoon?”

A guilty flush crept up his neck. The tone of her voice yanked him back to being scolded as a child. No matter his age, she was still his mother. “I’m sure whatever you heard has been exaggerated.”

“I would have preferred to hear about the incident from you,” she declared. “I can’t believe I had to learn about your outlaw encounter in a conversation with Tomasina. Imagine my surprise when I bumped into her at the opera house, and she regaled everyone with your brave rescue. She assumed I knew.”

Tomasina was the mayor’s wife, a spitfire redhead who’d ridden into town on a cattle drive last year. Though she and Will were as different as chalk and cheese, they somehow managed to be perfect for each other at the same time.

“There was nothing brave about it,” Russ said. “Tomasina is exaggerating.”

“What exactly happened then? And what’s this I hear about Susannah missing the train? How does one miss a train? They run on a schedule, after all.”

A part of him had been dreading this encounter with his mother since the arrival of the bride train, but now that she was here, he figured he might as well get it over with.

“Susannah isn’t coming,” he said, cutting right to the point.

“Is she all right?” His mother’s annoyance instantly transformed into concern. “Has something happened?”

“She’s fine. She merely had a change of heart.”

“A change of heart?” His mother snorted. “Did she at least have the decency to send a letter?”

“Yes.”

“A letter? That’s all? A letter!” The concern returned to annoyance just as quickly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with women these days. If all she can do is send a letter, then it’s her loss. You deserve someone better. I don’t know why you had to send to Philadelphia for a wife anyway. I mean, certainly I understand why some of the men of Cowboy Creek feel that a mail-order bride is their only choice, but you’re not just anyone. You’re handsome and successful.”

“You have to say those things.” Russ lifted his eyes heavenward. “You’re my mother.”

“You’re going to be the mayor someday!”

“My political career is uncertain.”

Especially now. He’d been so sure about what he wanted and where he was going. This morning had changed everything. The hitch in his plans had left him unbalanced for the first time since Charlotte had thrown him over. He was growing heartily tired of having his life derailed by fickle women who just happened to fall in love with other people.

“You’re going to be the mayor, and we both know it,” his mother declared. “There’s no need for false modesty. You’re absolutely the most qualified man for the position. Anyone would be a fool not to vote for you.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I’d say that even if I wasn’t your mother.”

Russ chuckled. “I’m certain you would.”

“You deserve someone like Marigold. Someone who is mad about you. You deserve love, not some...some...ramshackle agreement with a stranger.”

Susannah’s words rattled around in his head: Anna deserves better.





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