Nicholas' Bride - Chapter One

 I'm so excited to have another Runaway Bride story out. Dec. 13th isn't coming fast enough to celebrate. So, I thought I'd tease you with letting you read Chapter One. :) 

Nicholas Drake narrowed his gaze on the outlaw not more than ten feet in front of him. Both men had their hands hovering over their holstered pistols, waiting for the right moment to draw. The sun hadn’t started its rise on the horizon yet, and shadows were playing tricks on Nick’s eyes, which meant he had to be that much more cautious.

It hadn’t taken Nick very long to track down Jakeson – which was the only name the outlaw used – and now that he had the filthy man, he wasn’t about to let him go. The Pinkerton Agency wanted Jakeson because of the many trains he had robbed in the last seven years. Thankfully, none of the passengers on the train had been killed. However, many had been injured. As a Pinkerton agent, Nick would make sure Jakeson didn’t harm another person ever again.

It surprised Nick that the outlaw dressed so grubby and smelled as though he’d been rolling with the pigs, especially for a man who had stolen money and women’s expensive jewels. Wouldn’t the outlaw want to dress better or at least smell better? Now Nick wondered what the stolen money had been used on.

“Don’t be a fool, Jakeson,” Nick warned. “I’m a quick-draw, and I’ll shoot you before your hand even touches the butt of the gun.”

The outlaw who appeared to be in his late forties gave Nick a darker scowl, and the man’s expression was very self-assured. Once again, Nick would have to prove the man wrong because he would not let the outlaw win.

“I’m not afraid of ya.” Jakeson shook his head. “I’ve slipped away from other Pinkerton agents, and I’ll get away from ya just as fast.”

Indeed, the man was a fool. “If you come along with me without putting up a fight, I assure you, the judge will be more lenient with your sentence.”

“Don’t try usin’ yer big words on me. I’m never gonna let ya take me.”

Nick shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll just shoot you now instead of trying to talk some sense into your tiny brain.”

In a flash, Nick took hold of his gun and pointed it at the outlaw. Just as he had warned the other man, there was no way the outlaw was faster. Jakeson’s eyes widened, and Nick was privileged to see the panic on the man’s face.

“Hold up your hands where I can see them,” Nick demanded. “And walk slowly toward me so that I can slap these cuffs on your wrists. The other agents may have let you slip through their fingers, but I promise you, I’ll not make the same mistake.”

Jakeson’s scowl deepened the obvious wrinkles already lining his leathery face. His salt and pepper-toned hair that matched the color of his bushy beard gave away his age. “Don’t get too cocky, Agent Drake.”

“I’m not cocky.” Nick arched an eyebrow. “I’m confident.”

Jakeson chuckled and lifted his hands as Nick requested. “No, yer cocky, just like the other agents. Ya see, that’s how I can get away so easily. Y'all are so sure of yerself, ya don’t think I’m smart enough to make a plan, but I am.” He nodded. “I’m smarter than ya realize.”

“Sounds to me, Jakeson, that you are the cocky one.” Nick motioned with his pistol. “Now, slowly, start walking toward me and keep your hands up where I can see them, or my itchy trigger finger might just slip.”

Jakeson’s lip curled as he took slow steps toward Nick. This outlaw could not be trusted, and Nick wouldn’t believe a word the man said, even if he was choking to death and begged for help.

A small amount of light peeked on the horizon as the sun began to rise. There were still many shadows, but at least it wasn’t as many as a few minutes ago. Still, Nick was cautious as he kept his eye on the outlaw.

The man took his time coming toward Nick, and his finger rested on the trigger just in case the fool tried something. The train robber’s straggly long hair hung in his face, and from what Nick could tell, pockmarks and scars were very prominent no matter how long his hair was.

Nick carefully withdrew the handcuffs from his belt, not taking his attention from the outlaw. After turning Jakeson into the sheriff, Nick thought about asking his supervisor for another case. Keeping his mind busy was exactly what he needed at this time in his life. Hopefully, working hard on a tough case would take him out of Montana and far away from her.

About a month ago, he’d made a tremendous mistake while trying to comfort a woman. He should have known better. Pretty ladies with watery eyes had always been his biggest downfall.

Suddenly, Jakeson tripped and fell to the ground, landing facedown. Nick steadied his hand, pointing the gun toward the outlaw.

“Get up,” Nick snapped, prepared for anything now.

He waited for the man to move, but the outlaw lay still. Taking careful steps, Nick moved closer. A large rock was very near to the man’s head. Nick grimaced. Had Jakeson struck his head on the hard object and been knocked unconscious?

“Get up, man.” Nick kicked his boot into the outlaw’s leg. Still, the man lay still.

Grumbling under his breath, Nick shook his head. He didn’t necessarily want to drag the man to his horse and throw him over the animal by himself. But at least he could handcuff him and wait for him to regain consciousness.

Nick sighed and rolled his eyes. At least he wouldn’t have to shoot him.

He stepped closer and bent to take hold of one of Jakeson’s hands. Suddenly, the outlaw rolled over and kicked Nick’s shins. Before he could gain his balance, the outlaw threw dirt into Nick’s face.

His eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly. His vision was unclear, but he still tried to aim his gun at the man.

Seconds later, Jakeson barreled into Nick, knocking him over. As he fell on his back, his breath whooshed out of his mouth painfully. His gun fell from his hand.

Nick struggled to retain control, but his eyes still stung with the dirt, and his ribs cried out in pain. Before Nick could see it coming, Jakeson’s fist plowed into his face. Then another punch followed. And another one.

Dizziness assailed Nick while he tried to ward off the blows. For a moment, the dreaded realization hit him… Maybe he wasn’t in control after all.

 

* * * *

 

Good things were going to happen today. Lydia Swanson just knew it.

Already, the sun was shining in the morning sky, and birds were singing. When Lydia entered the milliner shop an hour ago, the other two ladies she worked with were busily making hats and chatting about the town's latest scandals. Thankfully, nothing was said about the Swanson sisters this time.

As Lydia prepared her work for the day, she recognized that guilt wasn’t weighing her down any longer.

It had been a whole month since she’d blamed her older sister, Victoria, for consorting with the man Lydia was supposed to marry, when lo and behold, what had Lydia done with the man helping her find her lost sister? She fell in love with him!

For Lydia, that day had turned from bad to worse. After catching her sister kissing Mr. Cartwright, Lydia had run off wanting to get far away and never see her sister again. The man who’d been helping her, Pinkerton agent Nicholas Drake, had chased after her and when he’d found her…

A shiver ran through Lydia, and she shook her head. No! She could not – would not – think of what had happened that day. But at least she had stopped feeling guilty about it. She’d forgiven her sister, and they were best friends again. In fact, Lydia had had the privilege of helping Victoria get ready for her wedding to Alan Cartwright.

Lydia sighed and smiled. It had been a wonderful wedding. Many people in Stumptown had come to see their friend, Alan, marry the woman who had rescued him. Well, that was the story Toria and Alan were telling everyone, anyway. Only a few of them knew what really happened.

“Lydia? How is your sister Rachael?” Penny asked, swinging a shawl over her shoulders as she walked closer to Lydia.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she realized it was time to drive into Libby, the town where they picked up supplies for the shop once a month. One of the three women always stayed behind while the other two took the long drive. Today was Lydia’s turn to take the drive.

She quickly set her sewing down and hurried to the wall to collect her bonnet and shawl. “Rachael is doing fine.”

“Is she still interested in becoming a milliner?” Penny asked. “Because business is picking up. We may want to hire another sewer.”

Lydia shrugged as she placed the bonnet on her head. “Rachael hasn’t decided yet. She wants to be either a milliner or a seamstress.”

Penny walked to the door and peeked over her shoulder at Sara. “We’ll be back later this evening.”

“Have a pleasant journey.” Sara smiled.

Penny nodded. “I’ll be taking my trusty rifle, just in case.”

Lydia was relieved that Penny and Sara knew how to shoot because she had never used a gun in her life. Those things scared her.

As they left the shop, Lydia waved to the other lady. Sara was the oldest out of the three, and at times, Lydia looked up to her friend as a mother figure, especially since she couldn’t ever remember her own mother being a caregiver. Ma was always sick, which Lydia blamed on her drunken father, who was never home and eventually ran off for good. Ma had been sad about her life, which ultimately made her so sick she died.

The three women at the milliner shop had so much in common, but the most important thing was that they were all orphans. Although Lydia’s father was still alive somewhere – probably living in a saloon or the gutter – he’d never been around enough to act as a father should. For most of her life, she’d been telling people that her parents were deceased.

Penny and Lydia griped about the many women in town but very few men as they drove out of town. Being unmarried, both women didn’t think they would ever find a husband. Of course, this was the very reason Lydia had tried to become a mail-order bride in the first place. But her older sister stole the groom.

“Now that we’re away from Sara,” Penny began, “I suppose I can tell you that I’m thinking of moving to Libby.”

Surprised, Lydia gasped. “But why? Didn’t you mention earlier that business was booming?”

“I did, but the truth is, I don’t want to be an old maid.” Penny sighed heavily. “Besides, I’m sure there are many milliner shops in Libby that will hire me.”

Lydia understood her friend perfectly. “I suppose we could both sign up to be mail-order brides.”

Penny’s brown eyes widened. “Didn’t you try to do that already?”

“Yes, but this time I won’t tell my sisters about it.” She chuckled softly, playing with her necklace. This was something she found herself doing quite a bit lately, especially when talking or discussing things that made her uncomfortable. “I think that’s the only way I’m going to get married.”

Penny shrugged and turned her gaze back to the road. She shifted the horse’s reins in her hands. “I suppose that could be my last option. I really want to fall in love, though.”

Lydia’s heart wrenched. “Don’t we all?”

Immediately, her thoughts turned to Nicholas Drake. And just as quickly, Lydia pushed them aside. That was a man she could never love. He was rude and definitely not a gentleman.

Suddenly, Penny sat up straighter in the wagon’s seat and slowed the horse. Curious, Lydia tried to see what her friend’s gaze was fixed on.

“Do you see that?” Penny asked.

Lydia searched the hillside, but all she could see were different-sized rocks. “See what?”

“It looks like… a man.”

Finally, the large boulder on the side of the road took a different shape. Lydia blinked several times, not believing her vision. That couldn’t possibly be a man lying in a ball on the ground and wearing only his long johns.

Penny gasped and pulled the wagon to a complete stop. “It is a man.” She grabbed her rifle and jumped down. Slowly, she stepped toward the unconscious man.

Out of morbid curiosity, Lydia climbed down and hurried behind her friend. From what Lydia could guess, this man must have been in a fight. His scratched-up face held bruises, and one eye was swollen. His lips were cut and had been bleeding. The only stitch of clothing he wore was his men’s long underwear. Handcuffs were on his wrists as his arms were fastened behind him.

“Is he dead?” Lydia whispered, grasping Penny’s shawl as they crept closer.

“I don’t know.” Penny’s voice was low.

As Lydia stared at the man, an odd feeling came over her – almost like she recognized him from somewhere. But with his bloody and bruised face, how could she know?

Suddenly, he moaned, and his head rolled to the side. Both Lydia and Penny shrieked and jumped back. Penny aimed the rifle at him.

The man’s eyes blinked open. He squinted at first, and then he glanced at his surroundings before trying to move his arms. A grumble sprang from his throat.

Finally, the man’s gaze stopped on Lydia and Penny. Lydia wasn’t sure how her friend felt at this moment, but she was scared out of her wits.

“Are you going to just stare at me, or will you help me?” he said in a hoarse voice.

Penny kept her rifle aimed at the man. “Depends.” She cleared her throat. “Are you an outlaw? Is that why you are in handcuffs?”

“No, I’m not an outlaw!”

His voice was loud, but it must have hurt his head because he grimaced and closed his eyes. The stranger took several deep breaths before opening his eyes again. This time, his attention rested on Lydia. Then, his gaze narrowed.

“Lydia Swanson? Is that you?”

Her heartbeat hammered wildly. Her first instinct had been right after all. But she still didn’t recognize him. “Yes, but… who are you?”

“I’m the Pinkerton agent you dislike so much.”

A loud gasp vibrated through Lydia before she could stop it. “Nicholas Drake?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Now, will you please help me get out of these handcuffs?” He glanced down at his underwear. “And help me find my clothes?”

Lydia’s gut churned. This was the one man she had never wanted to see again. And yet, now she was his salvation.

Perhaps she’d been wrong after all. Good things were not going to happen to her today.

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY - https://www.amazon.com/Nicholas-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B09LH59562 

New Series!!

 I'm so excited about my new series "Runaway Brides". I'm centering all of the books in this series around one Montana town - Stumptown. 

Book One - Denton's Bride:

Courtney Mills is not a murderer.
Of course, convincing her fiancé’s family that she had nothing to do with his death is a different matter. They are bound to put a noose around her neck, and she can’t defend herself. There is only one thing to do. Run far away and stay hidden. She needs a plan… Become a mail-order bride.

Denton Reed catches criminals for a living, and when a wealthy family hires him to find the number one suspect in their father’s murder, Denton jumps into action. But, it appears the only way to catch her is to convince her that he's part of her plan to become a mail-order bride. There’s no harm in pretending… or is there?

 EXCERPT:

ONE

 

Montana, 1877

 

Never in Courtney Mills’ life did she think she would be planning a wedding only to see her intended, lying on the floor, dead.

Arranged marriages to old men needed to be outlawed!

Courtney Mills twisted her handkerchief against her middle as she stared at the lifeless body of Albert Greenwood – the man ten years older than her father – lying on the floor of his study. Blood stained the beige rug under his head as his lay face down. Next to his head was a marbled bust of George Washington. In Albert’s study was his collection of history, and from the looks of it, George Washington was the very thing that probably ended Albert’s life.

Her stomach lurched, and she turned away, lifting her handkerchief to her mouth and inhaling the scented cloth slowly. Although she detested her parents selling her to Albert Greenwood to keep the money flowing between the two wealthy families, she didn’t want the old man dead.

After the initial shock of walking into the room and seeing him on the floor murdered, Courtney’s body shook violently. Her mind clouded with confusion and mixed emotions. Part of her wanted to be relieved that she wasn’t going to get married today, and yet, from what she could tell, someone had wanted him out of their lives, too. They’ll blame me!

Her throat constricted as panic welled within her. Albert’s family – three sons, and two daughters, who were all older than Courtney – hadn’t wanted their father to marry her. It didn’t matter that she agreed with them, she had to obey her parents and marry the older man. His children hated her, no matter how nice she tried to be with them.

The rhythm of her heartbeat accelerated, and her head throbbed with indecision. She should alert one of Albert’s servants about his demise, and yet, she hesitated. Since she was the first to find him, she’d be their main suspect. She’d read mystery novels before. She knew how the law worked. She also knew that they would consider her guilty until she proved herself innocent. At this moment, she didn’t know how that would ever happen.

On unsteady legs, she slowly moved toward the door. She must leave. Now!

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The butler was the only person to see her this morning since he had let her inside the house. Her parents hadn’t arrived yet, and she must leave before anyone else noticed her presence. The fewer people who could testify that she was here, the better her chances were of not being hanged for a crime she hadn’t committed.

Instead of heading out the front door, she turned the other way and hurried toward one of the side doors down a back hallway. Voices were heard from somewhere in the house, but she couldn’t tell who it was or where they were. Dizziness assailed her, and she bumped her shoulder against the wall. A picture that had been hanging fell to the floor. The wooden frame broke into several pieces. She couldn’t stop. Freedom was what she needed.

Her head filled with fog, and it seemed the door that would lead to her escape was so far ahead as if she were entering a tunnel. Courtney continued, placing one foot in front of the other. I can do this… I must do this!

Finally, she reached the door and turned the knob. Two steps later, she was outside. Inhaling deeply, she tried to clear her head. She needed to be alert to get away. But where would she go? Returning home to Butte was out of the question. That would be the first place the sheriff looked.

Courtney took cautious steps around the house, staying as close to the red-brick as she possibly could. As she passed behind tall bushes, the twigs pulled strands of hair out of the coil her maid had wrapped the bulk of her hair into. Courtney didn’t care. Her main focus was to leave without being spotted.

The stables, just down the slope, had some servants moving around inside. She stopped and held her breath. From her viewpoint, she didn’t know if they noticed her or not. She couldn’t let them see her at all. Moving slower now, she kept an eye on the stables, wondering if anyone would come out to see to her needs. She prayed they didn’t.

As she reached the front of the house, she realized her buggy was still out front with her luggage tied to the back, and she expelled a relieved sigh. Everything she owned was in those three trunks. She could leave Helena and never return.

Tears stung her eyes as Courtney made the decision. She’d leave her family, her friends, and all those things she held dear to her heart. Then again, she would have had to do that after she married Albert, anyway. However, this time, there was no other choice but to follow the road and let it take her far away from here.

She glanced around the yard, making sure nobody saw her, and darted toward her buggy. Just before reaching the vehicle, a terrified scream ripped through the air, coming from inside the mansion.

Inwardly, Courtney groaned. One of the servants had found Albert.

She wouldn’t find a better time than now to make a run for it. The servants would be rushing inside the house to see where the scream had come from. Courtney couldn’t wait a moment longer. She dashed toward her buggy and climbed inside. The hem of her dress caught on the step and ripped. A ruined dress didn’t matter to her at the moment, and she grabbed the reins and whipped them in the air, urging her horse forward. Instead of taking the main road, she went off the trail and into the woods, following other paths. She couldn’t go as fast as she wanted, but she tried to get out of this area as quickly as she could. People would be looking for her very soon.

The image of Albert’s wrinkled, palish-gray face popped into her mind again. Her stomach lurched just like before. The old codger didn’t deserve to die. Even though the idea of marriage to him made her physically ill, he still had a good ten or twenty years left to live.

Several hours passed, and thankfully, nobody followed her. As she took in her surroundings, she couldn’t place where she was. Her hands ached from gripping the reins so tightly, but her heart wrenched in agony. Fear was still the underlying emotion in her gut, but it also was the very thing that kept her moving.

Up ahead, she noticed a town. She would have to find something to eat before continuing on her journey. That would be the only way for her to keep going forward.

As soon as she saw people moving in the street, she slowed down her horse and straightened her shoulders. She mustn’t look like she was running away. Instead, she must appear that driving her buggy was normal and that she was going to visit a friend.

A few people glanced her way, but thankfully, nobody knew her, nor did they question her motivation. As she approached the town hall, she noticed a little wagon out front with a canopy over a table that sat on the side. Written across a thick board were the words – Mail-order Brides.

Courtney had read ads in the newspaper about ranchers looking for brides. She felt sorry for the woman who had to sink to such pitiful circumstances. It was difficult to imagine what a woman would have to suffer through in order to decide to marry someone they’d never met before.

The man standing by the table, dressed as a preacher in his long black robes as he held a Bible, looked up at her. His gaze swept over her once before he smiled widely.

“Pardon me, miss.” He moved in front of the horse, stopping her progress. “Do you believe in guardian angels?”

Irritation grew over her. This wasn’t the time to talk about Heaven. “Yes, but please, sir, I need you to move.”

As he stepped closer, he petted the horse. “Because I believe your guardian angel has led you to me.” He pointed to his wagon. “You appear to be down on your luck, so let me tell you how to find your future.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

“But you’re not fine.” He moved closer as his gaze shifted to her messy hair, and then down to the bottom of her ripped gown that was still hooked on the step. “You look like a woman who needs help.”

“I don’t,” she snapped. “Please, just move aside so that I can pass.” She didn’t want to cause a commotion here in the road, only because if the sheriff came looking for her, he’d ask the people in this town, and she didn’t want anyone to remember her.

“Miss, please consider being a mail-order bride. I have a list of men looking for someone to manage their homes and be mothers to their children. These men need good, upstanding, women like yourself.”

Although she didn’t want to give in, this might be the only way to make this man leave her alone. Of course, signing up didn’t mean she actually had to go through with it. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

The middle-aged preacher grinned and motioned toward his tent. “If you could come over here, I’ll show you what needs to be done.”

He helped guide the horse closer to his wagon and then assisted her as she climbed down. The preacher even removed the ripped hem of her dress from the step. Courtney pulled her arm away from him once she could stand on her own, and she walked to the table with him. A ledger was unfolded in front of her with many names and locations.

“All of these men are looking for a bride?” she questioned.

“Indeed, miss. They are praying for kind women like yourself to help them in their time of need.” He pointed to one of the lines. “Just write your name next to the man you want, and then you send him a telegraph to let him know you are interested in being his bride.” The preacher shrugged. “It’s really that easy.”

She took a pencil and wrote Courtney before realizing she shouldn’t reveal her true name. She quickly wrote Parker as her surname, since that was her mother’s maiden name, and the only one she could think of right away.

“Splendid,” the preacher said as he wrote on another piece of paper the name and location of the man who was looking for a bride. “Now, take this and send him a telegraph.”

She took the paper from him, hating that she had to do this.

“I must say, Mr. Timothy Graham is a very lucky man.”

Courtney nodded and turned back to her buggy. As she climbed back up to the seat, the preacher said, God bless you, and drew a cross in the air.

Her heart clenched. Was God really blessing her, or was he disappointed in her for not staying and trying to make Albert Greenwood’s family and servants believe that she was innocent?

She gripped the reins and urged the horse away from the wagon. Her weary mind spun with alternative plans. She was on the run, and yet, wasn’t the best place to hide being married as a mail-order bride? Surely, the sheriff wouldn’t think to look there.

But no. Courtney wouldn’t sink to marrying a stranger. It was almost as bad as marrying an older man that was closer to her grandfather’s age than her father’s. There must be other ways to be on the run and start a new life.

Making a hasty decision right now would ruin her life completely. She must take a few days and think about the consequences first… and pray that the Lord would lead her in the right direction.

Amazon link - https://www.amazon.com/Dentons-Bride-Runaway-Mail-Order-Book-ebook/dp/B08CQ4TJ6X

Series link - https://www.authormariehiggins.com/runaway-brides-series

NEW RELEASE - Hannah's Hardship

I'm very excited for this story. Those of you who know my style of writing, know that I like to bend boundaries - stretch the limits of my imagination. Well, in Hannah's Hardship, it's a mail-order bride romance, but I've pushed the line with this plot. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Montana, 1889

 

Hannah Ross had finally hit rock bottom. There was only one way to go from here. Up. And she was determined not to let life drop her again.

She stepped off the stagecoach and took in her new surroundings. Stumptown appeared to be a friendly small town. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Hopefully, she’d left behind her ruined reputation in Colorado, never to see anyone from that area again. Her mother understood and gave her blessing.

“Here’s your trunk, ma’am.”

Hannah glanced at the stagecoach driver, who unloaded the passenger’s trunks. She moved to hers and grasped the handle, and then collected her satchel. Since she had traveled quite often over the past five years, she knew how to pack light.

Taking a deep breath for courage, she moved out of the street and to the boardwalk. From the conversations in the stagecoach as the four passengers neared the logging town, there weren’t many women who took up residence in Stumptown. If Hannah had known that, she might not have answered the newspaper ad for a mail-order bride.

Since she was sixteen years of age, men had been attracted to her. At first, Hannah had been innocent to their charm and lies, but it wasn’t until she had turned twenty-five before she learned a hard lesson. She placed her hand on her belly and frowned. She would soon have a child because she had believed that a man actually loved and wanted to take care of her.

Of course, it had all been a lie.

When she discovered she was pregnant, she confronted the man who had once professed his undying love to her. The next day, he skipped town. Two days later, rumors were already circling through the social-mills, and people were gossiping behind her back. Hannah couldn’t walk down the street without people throwing her glares. Some mothers even turned their children away from Hannah when she greeted them with a smile.

Hannah blinked back the tears. She wasn’t a terrible person, so why did everyone judge her so harshly?

That’s when she decided to get out of Colorado. Being a mail-order bride was the only way she knew how to survive. However, she needed to consummate the marriage quickly in order for her soon-to-be husband to think the child was his.

Hannah glanced up and down the street and at the handful of lumberjacks who had come into town. So far, she only saw one woman, and the lady looked old enough to be Hannah’s grandmother.

Perhaps she should not have answered the first newspaper ad she read. Or, she should have asked around about the odd little place of Stumptown, before agreeing to this mail-order marriage. Being in close spaces with so many men made her nervous.

She sighed impatiently and looked up the street again. Perhaps her groom wasn’t going to meet her, after all. Hannah might have to ask around to see who knew Mr. Easton. She’d come this far, and she was determined to find a husband today.

“Pardon me, miss.”

She turned and rested her gaze on the middle-aged man behind her. He squinted through his spectacles at her as if not seeing her very well. The man was overly plump and didn’t have a lot of hair on the top of his head. Instead, the hair covered the sides and hung low, nearly to his shoulders.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Are you lost?”

She nearly spit out a laugh. Thankfully, she was in control and held it in. “Actually, sir, I’m not lost, but I am looking for someone.”

“Eh?” He leaned closer, turning his left ear toward her.

Apparently, this man had both sight and hearing problems. “I’m looking for Mr. Easton.”

“Which one? There are three Easton brothers.”

Oh, dear. Three brothers? “Um, I’m not sure.”

“The brothers are Maverick, Bryan, and Joel.”

She tried to remember if during her brief correspondence via telegram with Mr. Easton if he had ever used his first name. Sadly, she couldn’t recall. But none of those names were familiar. 

“She’s with me, Cooper.”

When another man came up behind her from out of nowhere, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Why couldn’t men just greet her naturally? Did it make them feel powerful to scare her?

The rugged cowboy grinned as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. His hat rode low on his forehead, shadowing his eyes. The whiskers on his face appeared that he and razors were not very good friends. However, it was the stench of alcohol that made her blood turn cold with fear. She knew firsthand how drunkards acted around her, and she wanted to get far away from this one.

“Please, sir,” she said in a steady voice that didn’t match her quaky nerves, “leave me alone.” When he didn’t do as she asked, she turned her pleading gaze to the older man. “Please, help me?”

The cowboy laughed. “Cooper ain’t gonna help anyone. He can’t even help himself.”

The older man frowned, and his gaze dropped to the ground, obviously bothered by the cowboy’s rude comment. She shot a glare at the drunk. “You will release me, sir, or I will scream for someone else to assist me.”

“Come now, my beauty. Ya know we were meant to be t’gether.”

Disgust twisted her stomach. “I’m waiting for—”

“Take your hands off her. Now!”

She hadn’t realized another man was standing by her until she heard his strong voice. The man with broad shoulders, who appeared to be around her age – give or take a few years – threw the drunkard a glare. When the cowboy looked at the other man, his body stiffened, but he slowly dropped his arms from around her.

Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t want to cause any trouble. Then again, the last few years of her life have been nothing but problems.

“No need gettin’ upset, Mav,” the cowboy said, “I was just teasin’ her.”

The look on Mav’s face clearly let her know that he wouldn’t tolerate the cowboy’s playfulness. Although Mav was younger than the cowboy by a few years, his tall length and strength were evident. Hannah was certain many men feared him.

He grasped the cowboy's arm, pulling him away from her. “Fred, go home and sleep it off before I summon the sheriff.”

“Yes, sir.” The cowboy stumbled away, tossing a few scowls at the man with broad shoulders.

Mav ran his gaze up and down Hannah’s attire. She’d worn one of her nicer traveling suits, one that she had specifically made for her trip to see her mother in Ft. Collins. Her mother worked for the wealthy Colorado rancher, Wayne Lindon. At the time, she’d worn the outfit to impress Wayne. Now, because of the dusty journey, she felt like a dust rag.

When the tall man’s gaze finally met hers, he nodded. “Can I assume you are Hannah Ross?”

Her heart lifted in relief. “Indeed, I am. And are you Mr. Easton?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m Maverick. Forgive me for being late.”

She tried to smile through her jittery nerves. She hadn’t expected Mr. Easton to be such a handsome man. His sandy-brown hair was shorter than most of the men she’d seen so far on this trip, but it made him appear more educated and refined. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen – like gazing into a beautiful summer sky on a clear day. She couldn’t help wonder why a man like this would want to find a mail-order bride. Then again, her mother’s boss, handsome Wayne Lindon, had done that very thing, too.

“I don’t believe you are late,” she told him. “I think the stagecoach was just early.”

Maverick gave her half a smile. At least that was better than the scowl he’d given the drunkard. The one he threw at the cowboy was fierce. How many men cowered to Mr. Easton’s command when he looked that way? Hopefully, she wasn’t marrying a man who easily lost his temper.

“Is this your trunk?” He pointed to the luggage beside her.

“Yes. Just one trunk and my satchel.”

He lifted her trunk with ease, setting it on his shoulder as he headed away from the boardwalk. She nodded to the older man with the spectacles who continued to watch her and Mr. Easton with a dropped jaw and hurried after her soon-to-be husband. He stopped at a wagon that was the cleanest one she’d seen in a long time and placed the trunk in the back. She handed the satchel to him, and he placed it next to the trunk.

As he assisted her up to the seat of the wagon, she realized how big his hands were – and calloused. At least that meant he was a hard worker. That bit of information was good to know.

Maverick climbed in next to her before taking the reins and urging the two-horse team forward.

Every few seconds, he glanced her way before returning his attention back to the road. Uncomfortable, she shifted on the seat, wringing her hands in her lap. Should she start the conversation? If so, what could she possibly talk about with a stranger?

“Miss Ross,” he said, breaking the awkwardness between them. “I must say, I’m surprised that you’re so lovely.”

She hitched a quick breath. Was that his way of complimenting her? He definitely needed to work on his charm. “Well… thank you.”

He chuckled. “I thought the only women who signed up to be mail-order brides were… well, plain-looking.”

“Do you know anyone who married a mail-order bride?”

“Not personally, no, but I have acquaintances who know men who have.” He paused briefly. “So, why did you want to be a mail-order bride?” His gaze moved over her dress again. “I mean, you don’t appear to be down on your luck, and I’d think that you attract men easily.”

She gritted her teeth. If he only knew. But no, she wouldn’t tell him the real reason. However, she could confess what led up to her pregnancy.

“A few years ago, I had decided to join a traveling group of stage performers against my widowed mother’s warnings. I didn’t realize how that life-altering decision would ruin my life. People spread false rumors about me, and I was no longer considered a lady. Men didn’t look at me as wife material any longer.” Hannah inhaled deeply, trying not to allow her past to upset her. “Soon, I realized that if I didn’t find a husband, I would be considered an old maid, and yet, I couldn’t find a man who wanted me as a wife.” She shrugged. “That’s why I answered your ad in the newspaper.”

She waited for him to say something, or to realize he didn’t want her. But he continued guiding the team of horses away from the center of town. It was too early to sigh with relief, though. Not until the ring was on her finger, and their marriage was consummated.

A gust of wind seemed to come out of nowhere, and her hair blew around her face.  Perhaps she should have worn a bonnet, after all. This was another thing her mother had tried to instill in Hannah, but her rebellious side wanted to be free from restrictions of all kinds.

She grasped the bulk of her hair and tried to hold it still. He glanced at her again and grinned.

“You’ll need to get used to Montana’s weather, and especially the wind.”

She nodded. “I shall try to adapt quickly.” There was a lengthy pause between them as the wind seemed to pick up speed. “What about you, Mr. Easton? You are a handsome man, so why did you decide to seek a mail-order bride?”

Chuckling, he removed his hat as it threatened to fly with the wind a few times. “You were in town a few minutes ago, Miss Ross. Did you see all of the single young women I had to choose from?”

She tried not to grin. “True. I didn’t see many women at all. However, you could have gone to another town to find a wife.”

“I could have, I suppose, but I didn’t want to.”

Maverick’s attention stayed on the road. As she studied his profile, she could see there was something else – something he wasn’t telling her. “Go on,” she encouraged. “Why don’t you want to find a wife elsewhere?”

“The truth is…” He sighed heavily and pulled the wagon over on the road before bringing the horses to a stop. He faced Hannah, looking deep into her eyes. “I really don’t want to get married.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m ready for a wife and children, yet. However, my grandfather feels differently.”

At first, her gut twisted. He didn’t want to get married. He had to, instead. Would she have time to find another man who would accept her as his wife, and especially, the illegitimate child growing inside her?

“Why…” She cleared her throat. “Why is your grandfather involved in this particular decision?”

“You see, Miss Ross, my grandfather still owns the lumber yard, along with the sawmills. He has grandsons who do the actual running of each place, but we still have no financial backing except for him. Just recently, he has decided that his grandsons need to find wives. He wants us all wed within six months, or we’ll forfeit our inheritance.”

She gasped audibly, not expecting to hear that explanation. “Why that’s… barbaric. That is absolutely medieval. I didn’t think wealthy people still blackmailed their families in such a way anymore.”

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes. “Grandfather is a very backward thinker, so for him to give us that stipulation doesn’t surprise me.”

“Are your two other brothers going to look for mail-order brides, too?”

He shrugged. “I’m not certain how they plan on finding their brides, but for me, the only way to get this completed quickly was to find a mail-order bride.”

She breathed slightly easier. At least he wasn’t sending her on her way. And yet, she either needed to charm him enough to consummate the marriage, or she needed to confess. However, he admitted to not being ready for a wife and children.

Oh, decisions, decisions…

Another gust of wind blew from behind her, and she fell against Maverick. His arms circled around her, keeping her from falling off the seat. She pressed her hands against his chest and looked up at his face. His forehead wrinkled with worried lines as his gaze looked up at the sky.

“I fear, Miss Ross, that the winds from the canyons are too strong to continue our journey.”

“What shall we do?”

He glanced down at her and shrugged. “Find someplace to hide the wagon and horses before they blow away.” He nodded. “And, if we were wise, we’d hide with them.”

Buy link - https://www.amazon.com/Hannahs-Hardship-Westward-Hearts-Mail-Order-ebook/dp/B085DS7TZF