Cowboy Seeks a Bride. Louise M. Gouge

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      The engine chugged to a stop and sent out a blast of gray-white steam from its undercarriage. Porters jumped out, set stools in front of the doors and gave a hand to the disembarking passengers.

      “Rand! Hey, Rand.” Emerging from the second passenger car, Maisie Henshaw ignored the porter, practically leaped from the last step and ran toward him. Behind her, Doc Henshaw, toting a valise and his black doctoring bag, stretched out his long legs to keep up with his bride. Rand would never understand how these two very different people had gotten together, but it sure wasn’t any of his business. Besides, anybody could see how happy they were.

      Rand hoped his own imminent marriage would be just as happy. That would be an extra blessing on his road to redeeming his past. For three years he’d worked hard to live a perfect life by following every order, every wish of his parents, and taking on more than his share of chores to gain his older brother’s respect. Now, if Miss O’Brien would have him, he would be marrying the young lady his parents had chosen for him. It made him feel as if he’d almost arrived at redemption. Almost.

      Maisie dashed up and gave him a sisterly hug. “My, you’re looking handsome. Any special reason you’re all gussied up and out here waiting for the train?” She elbowed Doc in the ribs and chortled.

      “Now, honey.” His hands full, Doc gently bumped her shoulder with his own. “Let the man be.”

      “All right, all right.” Maisie sniffed in mock annoyance. “But I’m in no hurry to go home.” She marched over to the bench and plunked herself down beside Tolley. “Move over, kid.”

      Doc just chuckled at her antics. “Hello, Rand. It’s good to see you.” He sat next to Maisie.

      Rand had only a moment to give his impromptu audience a scowl of irritation before their eyes all turned toward the train car. Maisie giggled and Tolley let out a low whistle. Rand followed their gaze. And nearly fell onto the bench beside them.

      Slender and of medium height, the young lady had thick auburn hair piled high on her head, with a cute little brown-and-blue hat perched at the summit. Her sandy-colored dress—well, more suit than dress, and trimmed with dark blue bits of ribbon and such—hugged well-formed curves that he wouldn’t let himself dwell on until after they were married. But it was her face that held his attention. Like a classical Roman statue of Venus he’d once seen in a magazine, her elegant beauty was flawless and her porcelain cheeks glowed with a hint of roses. He couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but she’d said in a letter that they were hazel.

      Oh, mercy, she’s even more beautiful than her picture. What did I ever do to deserve this prize? Nothing, that’s what. It was all a matter of grace.

      Thank You, Lord, for sending me such a lovely bride. That was, if Miss O’Brien would have him once he told her the truth about his past.

      * * *

      Foolishly putting off the inevitable, Marybeth had offered a silly excuse to the Henshaws for not following them right away. Maisie had teased about her shyness but hadn’t forced the issue. The last passenger in the car, Marybeth had slowly moved toward the door where the conductor had given her a patient smile.

      At last she emerged from the darkness, shielding her eyes from both the sun and the wind. A porter offered a hand and helped her to the ground. She pressed a dime—her last one—into his hand for the services he’d so diligently rendered during the trip. “Thank you.”

      As he bowed to her, a sharp whistle split the air. She located Maisie seated by the train station and pointing enthusiastically at a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy. He was dressed in a dark green plaid shirt, spotless black trousers and shiny black boots. While she couldn’t see his face due to the broad brim of his light brown hat, his physique was certainly attractive, the sort that girls at her school always gushed over when the matrons weren’t in the room.

      Her gaze lit on the gun strapped to his belt and a shudder went through her. In traveling across the country, she’d noticed more than one cowboy wearing a gun. Another traveler had told her the weapons were necessary because of wild animals and maybe even train robbers. Yet how many of those cowboys had killed a man, as this one had?

      He strode toward her with a firm gait and her heart pounded with fear...and a very odd thrill. What was wrong with her? She’d never been one to court danger. Indeed, she avoided confrontation at all cost.

      “Miss O’Brien?” He tipped his hat to her.

      Now she could see his face and her breath left her. When he hadn’t sent a picture, she’d wondered if his looks were not particularly appealing. That was far from the case. In all of her twenty years, she had never seen a more handsome man, from his bright green eyes to his tanned, well-formed cheekbones and slender nose to his attractive, slightly crooked smile that revealed even white teeth. He even smelled good; a woody fragrance she couldn’t quite identify. But it was those eyes, emerald green and reflecting the darker shade of his shirt, that held her attention, that mesmerized her.

      “Yes, I’m Marybeth O’Brien.” Her voice squeaked, but he had the good manners not to laugh. “Mr. Northam?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He reached out to take her gloved hand. “Please call me Rand. We mostly go by first names out here. That is, if it’s all right with you.”

      At his touch, a hot spark shot up her arm, turning to ice as it reached her neck. She couldn’t stop a shudder, but again he didn’t react. “Yes, that’s fine.” Somehow she managed to say the words. Somehow she managed to keep her knees from buckling.

      For countless seconds they stood staring at each other. Marybeth tried to reconcile the idea of this young, incredibly handsome man being a killer, a gambler, a man exactly like her father. That thought shook her loose from her hypnotic state. Hadn’t Da looked every bit the gentleman when he was sober? For the first time in her life she understood how Mam had been swept off her feet and right into a tragic, abusive marriage.

      “Well—” She broke away from Rand’s hold. “I have a trunk someplace.” She looked around and spied it being unloaded from the baggage car. “There it is. Shall we?” She took a step in that direction.

      “Yes, ma’am.” Rand nonetheless gently touched her upper arm to stop her. “I brought my brother along to take care of that.” He motioned to a younger version of himself. “Tolley, get yourself over here and meet Miss O’Brien... Marybeth, this is my brother Tolley.”

      The brothers’ good relationship was evident in the boy’s teasing smirk and overly polite address to her. “How do you do, Miss O’Brien? Welcome to Esperanza.” From his singsong tone, she guessed he’d been coached.

      “Very well, thank you, Tolley. I understand first names are the rule here, so please call me Marybeth.” For some reason she felt no fear of him, despite the gun he wore. Did his easy smile and wide-eyed innocence hide a murderous spirit, too?

      “Yes, ma’am.” He shot a look at Rand almost as if seeking approval. “I’ll take care of that trunk and see you later.”

      “Oh.” Marybeth’s heart sank as he strode away. She’d hoped the boy’s presence would serve as a buffer between her and Rand. She looked up at Rand. “I—I was thinking...”

      Again he touched her upper arm. Again a shiver raced up to her neck. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to go over to Mrs. Williams’s café for a bite to СКАЧАТЬ