Page 5 of Their Wanted Bride (Bridgewater Brides 1)

Laughing, we began our meal. “I suppose we’ll find out next week,” I replied. “We’ll celebrate with these biscuits that aren’t burnt to a crisp.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, then swallowed his food. “Maybe the mercantile has oranges. Think our new wife might like some?”

The minute he mentioned it, my mouth watered for the crisp citrus and I wondered if our future wife would use lemon soap. Her bare skin would smell like sunshine and taste like the lemon ice my father used to buy for Justin and me when we finished our chores. If she didn’t, I’d be sure to buy her some just so I could lick the sweet essence from her delectable pussy.

MADDY

* * *

I pocketed the advertisement I’d torn from the paper. Wife needed, aged eighteen to thirty-five. Must be able to cook and clean for two healthy men, aged thirty and twenty-nine, owners of JC cattle ranch north of Bridgewater, Montana Territory. Must be willing to work and have a horse and saddle. No portrait necessary.

I was willing to bet the man I selected, one Caleb Mathis, hadn’t gotten any responses. A smart woman would think the man was addled for what he was asking, and wouldn’t consider traipsing out west to be a glorified servant. None of his requests bothered me though. I liked to cook, and a tidy household was my preference. Aside from that, he’d specifically mentioned wanting a wife with her own horse. That meant he had ideas, and I wanted to hear them.

Mr. Mathis had to be better than the gentleman who hadn’t said anything aside from the desire for his bride to be pretty, along with the words protect and cherish.

Cherished and protected, indeed. All husbands wanted a pretty wife. Mr. Mathis did too, even if he had sufficient wit and manners to resist putting it in a newspaper. Would he not do those things if he didn’t consider his bride attractive? How would he feel if his new bride didn’t find him appealing? I snorted and tucked the rest of the newspaper away, setting aside my curiosity about both men being in the Montana Territory.

I had no interest in spending my days as a pampered pet. Being stuck inside bored me to tears. A man who dared ask his wife for the things in Mr. Mathis’s advertisement was looking for a helpmeet—not an ornament he could trot out to impress his equally dull friends.

Tucked in a small purse sewn into my drawers, I had almost a thousand dollars in savings from Prince’s stud fees and the pin money Daddy had given me over the years. It would be more than enough to get me to Montana Territory and leave a healthy dowry.

Maybe, just maybe, if God saw fit to answer my prayers, Mr. Mathis would be the one to put that secret smile on my face. If he didn’t suit me, his partner might. There was no sense putting all my eggs into one basket, after all. One of them would be the on

e to show me what it meant to be a woman and a wife.

Dahlia didn’t think much of my idea of becoming a mail order bride, but she helped me anyway. I promised to write her the minute I arrived, and to skedaddle back to Kentucky if Mr. Mathis turned out to be unacceptable.

I knew she worried, but something told me Mr. Mathis was just the man I needed. I was strangely excited by the prospect of leaving Kentucky behind and wondered what my future husband looked like. Being a rancher, he likely had big strong hands with calluses. I shivered, imagining his rough palms stroking my tender skin.

But to get to my soon-to-be husband, I had to escape Lockerbury without Nathan or Celeste finding out.

Dried walnut husks turned Prince’s pale golden coat into liver chestnut, and some of Reggie’s old clothes turned me into a vagabond with an ugly horse. We found an old nosebag to hide Prince’s conspicuous appearance.

Dahlia dropped her paintbrush in the empty dye bucket and scowled. “You look horrible,” she muttered.

“Perfect.” I smoothed Reggie’s trousers over my backside. They didn’t fit very well, but a little discomfort was a small price to pay for getting Prince to safety. “I’ll send Reggie’s clothes back when I get settled.”

“Take as long as you need. Reggie hasn’t worn those in ages and he’ll never miss them. Just send me your new address the first chance you get.”

“Dahlia! Is supper ready yet? I’m as hungry as a bear, and I want to kiss my beautiful wife.”

The sound of Reggie’s voice echoed from behind the house and Dahlia winced. “You better get out of here,” she whispered.

“Not yet. If Reggie recognizes me, we did all this work for nothing.”

Biting her lip, she nodded and turned to wave at her husband. “Reggie, this here fellow says he needs a job. Do you need help with the planting?”

Reggie approached and wrapped his arms around Dahlia, kissing her cheek. He took off his hat, revealing short cropped brown hair turning gray at the temples. “Sure am sorry, but I can’t afford to pay for help. You might try the next town over. I hear they’re looking for folks to mine coal.”

Trying to deepen my voice, I said, “Thank you kindly. I’ll be on my way and leave you good folks to your supper.”

“You’re welcome to break bread with us, stranger. I can’t let a man go without a good meal to tide him over,” Reggie said.

I dredged up a smile, wishing I could have found a man like Dahlia’s husband. Thin and tall like an overgrown beanpole, Reggie wasn’t rich or handsome, but he loved his wife to distraction. I wanted that so badly. To my mind, his dedication to Dahlia trumped everything else. “Thank you, but I’ll be on my way. I can make the next town before dark.”

Dahlia looked like she was about to cry, but nodded and waved as I vaulted up on Prince’s bare back. We’d hidden the sidesaddle deep in Reggie’s barn, where hopefully it would rot. Dahlia even packed me a small canvas satchel filled with food for the train ride and loaned me a second dress so I’d have something clean to wear when I arrived.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about Reggie not recognizing me. He’d known me for years and I didn’t like leaving without saying goodbye. Yet it also meant I’d most likely pass through town unchallenged. Tapping my heels to Prince’s sides, I urged him into a canter toward the train station.

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