Falling for the Bride (Brides of the West Series Book Twelve)

  Falling For the Bride

  Rita Hestand

  Falling for the Bride

  (Book twelve of the Brides of the West Series)

  Rita Hestand

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright© 2016 by Rita Hestand

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN # 9781310062278

  Cover Design by: Sheri McGathy

  License Note

  This book, Falling For the Bride is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or reproduced in any manner without express written permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy or copies. If you did not purchase this book or it was not purchased for your use, please go to Smashwords.com to purchase your personal copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Falling For the Bride is a work of fiction. Though some of the cities and towns actually exist they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any names or characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.

  ~Dedication~

  Sometimes plans don't go the way we think they will.

  The unexpected can be exciting, wild and something to remember. When a crime turns out to be an affair of the heart, it's less a crime and more a detour for love. For all those surprised brides that suddenly find themselves married to someone they never expected, I say good luck and maybe, just maybe you've found the man of your dreams!

  God Bless

  Rita Hestand

  Table of Content

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  About the Author

  Rita's Other Books

  West Texas, 1880

  Chapter One

  "Excuse me, what time is it?" Priscilla Brewster asked.

  "Same as the last time you asked only two minutes later." The agent muttered. "Do you want me to take your bags inside ma'am?" the ticket agent asked as she stood in the sweltering heat. She mopped her brow with a handkerchief, as her patience wore thin.

  The clacking sound of metal on metal, the smell of smoke, the distant sound of the whistle echoed in Priscilla Brewster mind. How long had she been on that train? It seemed like forever. Sitting unable to do much else, she had stared relentlessly out the window hoping above all to calm her frayed nerves.

  Now this.

  "Take them? Of course I don't. I need to get to the Bar 7 Ranch, is there any transportation about?" She asked squinting in the bright sunlight looking out along the distant prairie that still hadn't welcomed her arrival.

  "Well, don't you have anyone expecting you?" The agent hollered.

  "That's not your concern. I need transportation, do you know where I could rent a buggy or horse?" She snapped unable to control the rioting emotions swamping her. Between the intolerable heat, the rude agent, and the fact that she was obviously stranded here, her temper had reached its limits. She stomped on the boardwalk loudly, pacing back and forth.

  "Not out here I don't. Now if you'd have got off the train in town you could have rented one there."

  She glanced at the short little man with the visor over his eyes and the garter on his sleeve. He seemed agitated that she was still here. He was right, she should have got off closer to town. This looked like the middle of nowhere. Surely Nigel had gotten her telegraph. She'd sent it three days ago.

  Trying to appear calm and collected, Priscilla shook her head and stared out at the prairie that seemed sterile of people now.

  An uneasiness swept through her, but she lifted her chin and squared her jaw. Gaining composure, she wasn't feeling, she shook her head.

  "Don't you have nobody picking you up lady?"

  "Does it look like I have anyone picking me up?"

  "But ma'am you've been here over an hour, and it's awful hot out here." The ticket agent wiped his brow with a big bandana. "I wouldn't want you fainting from this heat. Especially if you aren't used to it."

  "Don't worry about it, Joe, I got her…" came a slow drawl from just behind her. Priscilla wheeled on her heels and stared into the eyes of a tall stranger, dark blue eyes that twinkled like diamonds.

  Eyes shaded by long lashes that took her all in with one swoop.

  It was the way he stopped at different points of interest that had her blushing despite herself. No one had ever regarded her like a side of beef in a butcher shop before.

  She stared at his slicker as though she couldn't believe a man would wear such a thing on a hot day like this. "And you are?" She turned her nose up at the man for being so presumptuous.

  "Quinten Hadley ma'am. But you can call me Quint. I heard you say you are headed for the Bar 7 ranch?" the handsome stranger asked.

  Handsome in a strange way, his light brown hair was just past his shoulders, but it shone in the noonday sun, as though he kept it very clean. She'd never seen pretty hair on a man before. She somehow had the wrong picture of a typical cowboy. She thought most would wear sweaty, clothes, with worn out hats and tobacco oozing down his chin. Not so this one.

  Unaccustomed to a man with such dangerously good looks, she squinted from the sun once more. "Yes, do you work for Nigel?" she wrinkled her nose as her eyes traveled him with vague interest. Even his clothes were clean, and surprisingly, he didn't reek. Well dressed for a ranch hand, but then what did she know of ranch hands. At least he appeared clean. Perhaps Nigel insisted on cleanliness when picking her up. That stood to reason.

  "Nigel?" the stranger's nose wrinkled too now.

  "Oh, yes, I'm sorry, I mean Jeffrey Banks?" Her cheeks colored against the sun. "He told me to call him Nigel. But I'm told he goes by Jeffrey out here."

  "Out here?" The stranger questioned his brow arching.

  "In the west."

  The man nodded dully, his mouth hanging open in a gape. "The west. Excuse me ma'am. Where you from?" He asked reaching for her bags.

  "Philadelphia, of course."

  "Really…" he shook his head. "I'd have never guessed."

  "Are you making fun of me, sir?" She asked, her voice conveying her displeasure.

  "Nope!" he drawled effectively. "Wouldn't dare."

  "Quinten is an unusual name. I've never heard it before."

  "Yes ma'am, my mother was right fond of it. She read it in some book."

  She looked at him and smiled.

  "What's the smile for, ma'am." He asked out curiosity.

  "You mother liked to read?"

  Again his mouth hung open.

  "Is that so astounding? We might have been poor but we weren't raised ignorant."

  "Oh, you read too?"

  "When I get the chance…" He drawled slowly.

  When she stared but didn't say anything he leaned on one hip. "I'l
l take you there," he rasped with a hint of humor to his mouth, his hand perched on his hips, just above his gun.

  He cast her a quick appraisal and tied his horse to a buggy on the side of the building. Nigel told her that most men wore guns on their hips out here. It was fascinating. She was riding with a real cowboy. Amusement lingered.

  "Thank you, I'd appreciate that," She said staunchly.

  When he saw all her luggage he frowned, but quietly tied it to the back of the buggy without a word. Once it was secure he joined her.

  The buggy brought them close and gave her the opportunity of observing him easier. She barely got a whiff of the lye soap he used. His eyes were wide spread, tapering, such a dark blue and quite piercing. In a rugged sort of way, he was quite handsome, but not at all her type she reminded herself. But despite that, she was intrigued by this individual.

  "You're dressed for rain?" She quipped with her nose in the air.

  "Yes ma'am, I expect somewhat of a gully-washer."

  "But…there isn't a cloud in the sky…" She glanced at the sky and then him.

  "Nope…but it will rain." He assured her. "Do you have a parasol?"

  "Yes…of course, but…it's ridiculous, there isn't a cloud in the sky. And the last I heard there had to be clouds to rain, sir."

  He eyed her now, his indifference as loud as her arrogance.

  She shrugged and turned to dig it out of her bag which was tied to the back of the buggy. It would shade her some, and she wasn't used to the sun bearing down so hard.

  She struggled in a comical way to reach the parasol that was tied to one of her bags. She put her knees on the seat of the buggy and completely turned around, also turning her rump to his view.

  And he did look with interest.

  When she saw him staring, she straightened herself and sat down.

  "Did you grow up with 'Nigel'?" He asked after a bit of silence.

  "Uh…no." She adjusted her hat, then decided with the wind blowing she'd take it off. She unpinned it and set it in her lap.

  "You just visiting or what?" Quint asked.

  She looked rather put out with him, as though he should have guessed why she was here. "I'm to marry Nigel, next month…" she said, then glanced at the man. "Didn't he mention it? I'm what is considered a mail-order-bride."

  Now his mouth really was hanging open.

  "Uh…no, he didn't. But it's not like him to speak much to the hired help." Quint quipped.

  "I suppose that is true."

  "So you are marrying Jeff Banks." He repeated as though going over that information in his head.

  "That's right…"

  He shot her a quick glance. "Why?"

  "Why what?" She shook her head in question.

  "Why you marrying him?"

  Taken aback, Priscilla frowned at the man. "Well why does anyone marry, sir?"

  "That's something I have asked myself a lot." Quint almost chuckled until he saw the look on her face.

  "He put an ad in the paper for a proper lady, of breeding, to marry. My father answered the ad…"

  "You can do that, put an ad in the paper…for a bride?"

  "Yes of course, it's quite proper. Especially out here in the west where women are not as plentiful."

  "Oh I don't doubt that ma'am. But seems like a strange way of doing things. Your father answered the ad for you?"

  "What's so strange about it?" She snapped.

  "Well ma'am, you don't know nothing about him and you are going to marry him. That's strange to me."

  "It done all the time?" She insisted in a huff.

  "And you are gonna marry him?" He sounded incredulous.

  "Mr. Hadley is it? This is none of your concern. Yes, I'm going to marry him. That's what I'm here for."

  "Your right, it's not my business." He nodded and whipped the reins harder. "Just makin' conversation, ma'am. But I can't help but find it a might peculiar. I mean, what if you don't like him? What if you marry him and you regret it? You got some way to get out of it?"

  She grabbed the side of the buggy as he sped up and her hat nearly blew away. She caught the hat, and frowned.

  The silence was almost unbearable and Priscilla thought if she talked maybe he'd slow down.

  "Have you worked for Nigel long?"

  "Nope!"

  He hadn't slowed a bit.

  "Must we go so fast?"

  "You're not in a hurry to get there?" He challenged shooting her a raised eyebrow.

  "I'd rather have a pleasant journey…" she said and fell backwards a bit as he whipped the horses again. "It was a long train ride and I had to change trains three times to get here. I suppose I'm a little snappish."

  Suddenly he slowed. "That's okay. So…what's your name?"

  "Priscilla Brewster…" she blurted.

  "I'll call you Cilla then." He smiled at her for the first time. She stared at him strangely.

  "Something wrong?"

  "N-no…of course not."

  After a while, she glanced about and asked. "So how much further?"

  "We'll be there by nightfall. You ever been to his place?"

  "No, I haven't…"

  He nodded as though calculating something in his head.

  "You ever been out west?"

  "No, I haven't."

  "Aside from the heat, what do you think of it?" He asked offhandedly.

  "Of what?"

  "Of the west?"

  "Oh…well, aside from the heat, it is quite different. More spacious. Not many people it doesn't seem. I mean, back home people are walking about the city, here there doesn't seem to be as many people about. Why is that?"

  "Too hot for one thing. And most people don't get to town but once a week, on Saturday." He replied. "On Saturday's the town is full, you'll see."

  She looked at him, "Really? Only once a week."

  "Really." he replied with a smile.

  "How odd!"

  "Know how to ride a horse?" He asked out of the blue.

  She glanced at him now and leaned back in the seat, "Despite that I am a lady from Philadelphia, this might surprise you, but yes, I do know how to ride. I'm quite good at it too. I'm quite fond of all animals."

  "Is that a fact." He nodded and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

  Was he mocking her?

  "Yes, it is." She challenged him.

  "Can you cook?"

  "Cook?" she asked wondering where this conversation might lead.

  "Yeah, you know, a meal."

  "Some…" she frowned. "I've been doing quite a bit the last few months as we've had many guests. I've had to help the cooks out."

  "Help the cooks, huh? You rich or something?"

  "Yes, the cooks in the kitchen." She explained.

  "I'll bet you had maids and cooks and stuff back home, didn't you?"

  "Well yes, we did, but, I know a few things."

  "Uh-huh, I bet you do."

  "You don't believe me? I can tell you don't believe a word I’m saying." She frowned at him, a little startled that he would contest her statement.

  He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. And it certainly shouldn't matter to you, if I do or not."

  "Then why ask?" She seemed really flustered.

  "Just talkin'. Talkin' is easier than not. Makes the time go faster, and you learn things about people by talkin' to them."

  "Can you cook?" She challenged.

  "Over a campfire pretty fair, but in a kitchen all I can do is light the stove."

  She snickered despite herself.

  "You are quite the character, aren't you?" She chuckled aloud this time some of the tension flowing out of her with that chuckle.

  "Am I?" He glanced at her with a smile.

  Sure enough a big droplet of water splashed right on her nose.

  He glanced at her and shook his head, "Better use that parasol ma'am. And there's a blanket down under the seat there for you." He offered.

  "Thank you…" She looked perplexed. "I d
on't understand it. The sky was clear moments ago. I can't believe it."

  "Well, I guess I better warn you now, the weather is one thing you can't count on here in Texas. It can change in a minute. Better grab that blanket ma'am." He said as the rain and wind picked up. "Even the almanac can't get it right all the time. That's how Texas is. Unpredictable."

  It was miserable for a few minutes coming in a sheet of rain, fast and hard, and then it stopped altogether, as if it hadn't been there. She glanced about. "It's stopped. I've never seen weather so unpredictable in my life." She exclaimed, letting the parasol drip dry.

  "That's Texas weather ma'am and it does tend to change quickly. You might remember that."

  She nodded curtly. "I guess you are right. I'm sorry I misjudged you."

  "That's alright, lots of folks do."

  The sun was setting and the air began to chill just a bit. She shivered. "It was hot when we left."

  He stopped, took off his rain slicker and handed it to her. "It'll take the chill off."

  "Thank you…"

  But when they pulled into a wide area, with a widespread ranch in front of her, she gasped. "My God, it's unbelievable. This place is magnificent. Just look at that porch, and what kind of wood is that, cedar?"

  "Yes ma'am. I guess it is a little crude from what you are used to." He remarked helping her down from the buggy.

  She shook her head, "It's beautiful. Rustic, but beautiful. I'm going to love it here."

  "Ma'am?" He stared at her as he practically held her in mid-air.

  She wasn't looking at him and he set her down gently.

  "Look at that porch. It's lovely….and the view of the valley too. I never expected anything so warm and inviting from Nigel." She remarked. "Perhaps I figured him all wrong too. I pictured him in a two story Victorian kind of home. But this is really lovely. So charming and welcoming. I'm going to love it here. Just like I pictured Texas."

  He took her arm and escorted her inside but all the while he was staring at her as though he couldn't believe her assumptions. Of course that wasn't her fault. He'd led her astray.

  Fumbling for a lamp, he lit it and the room became a soft glow. He heard her slight gasp.