Page 6 of Their Wanted Bride (Bridgewater Brides 1)

The fare for us both was a goodly chunk of my savings, but it couldn’t be helped. Prince was quiet as the porter loaded him, giving only a soft whicker as he disappeared inside the car.

As the door slid shut behind him, I heard Nathan’s husky voice along with the grating sound of Celeste’s complaints. Stiffening, I ducked out of sight behind a stack of baled tobacco.

“Did you see her get on the train?” Celeste asked. “She has to be here.”

“No,” Nathan replied. “I wouldn’t miss a pretty redhead in a blue dress riding a palomino. Are you sure she didn’t go home? Maybe she’s hiding in the barn with that damned horse.”

“I’m telling you, she isn’t there, and none of her things are gone.”

It was rare to see Celeste so flustered, but I didn’t have time to enjoy the sight of her red face and less than perfect hair. Keeping my head down, I scurried up the metal steps into the train as the conductor called for boarding. Let them figure it out on their own. I’d be in Montana and hopefully married before they found me. I found a seat next to a man with a heavy satchel and pulled my borrowed coat tight around my body to better hide my appearance. As the whistle blew, I sent up a little prayer that I’d find Caleb Mathis in a good humor, and good skill in bed.

Keeping my movements hidden from my seatmate, I stroked my hands up my thighs under my coat, imagining what his touch would feel like. My belly clenched and I bit back a whimper when the man next to me snorted in his sleep.

The long trip gave me time to think. The second my new husband got me in front of a preacher, he’d be the owner of almost a thousand acres of prime Kentucky bluegrass pasture, lock, stock, and the entire damned barrel.

I was absolutely sure Nathan and Celeste had some scheme worked up to steal my home out from under me. My active imagination spun me all sorts of tales that rang with suspicion. It was possible I was wrong, but I didn’t think so. Although the whole story sounded like something out of a Gothic novel, Celeste’s underhanded tactics, along with the short few days Nathan had given me made me almost sure those two were up to something nefarious.

When the train stopped in St. Louis, I sent Mr. Mathis a telegram advising him of my arrival. I also decided not to tell him of my bequest. At least, not right away. It was probably the imaginings of a silly little girl, but I wanted the man I married to want me because of me—not because of money.

And if he could give me a secret smile like the one Dahlia always had, I’d count myself doubly blessed.

3

JUSTIN

* * *

The noon train pulled through town a few minutes after we arrived, disgorging one passenger, a small man in ragged clothes with unkempt brown hair tucked under a battered cap. Unfortunately, no women exited any of the cars.

Biting back my disappointment, I dismounted and jerked my chin toward the stranger. “You think he might need a job? Looks like he might work for bread and board.”

Maybe our new wife was busy gathering her things after her trip. It was possible she’d missed a connecting train somewhere too. I doubted our mysterious lady would have bothered with a telegram if she hadn’t intended to show up. The thought cheered me a bit, and at the very least, we might be able to convince the small man to work for us.

With extra help, we’d be able to spend more time preparing for our wife’s arrival too. My cock swelled as I thought of finally being able to trace her soft curves and holding her between us.

Caleb grunted, stepping away from his mare when she tried to bite. I had no idea why he insisted on riding the cantankerous beast. Pure stubbornness, I supposed. That was as good an explanation as any.

“Maybe,” he finally said. “We could use the help.”

Nodding, I dropped my horse’s reins over the hitching post and approached the small man, stopping short when a porter led an ugly brown stallion from the train. The horse jerked free and made a beeline for the small man, rubbing his nose against the stranger’s chest.

The man let out a surprisingly high-pitched giggle and scratched the stallion’s face. He led his horse to the livery stable without bothering with a lead rope, making me wonder if he could take our range horses in hand, especially Caleb’s.

“He has a good touch with horses,” Caleb murmured, joining me as I leaned against the fence surrounding the livery stable yard.

“With that chestnut stallion, at least.” Hopefully, the stranger wouldn’t take too long. Clouds, carrying the dry scent of incipient snow, were forming and even Caleb was giving the sky a distrustful glare. Montana weather was unpredictable at best this early into spring. One day might be warm enough to work in shirtsleeves, but the next might produce a foot of snow.

We waited in the stable yard until the stranger returned. As he passed us, I held out a hand, stopping him. “You have a mighty good touch with horses, friend. Are you looking for work? We can offer room and board until we get our cattle sold. If things work out after that, we’re willing to talk salary.”

Shivering, the man drew his coat tightly around his small frame and lifted his chin, revealing strikingly pale green eyes the color of spring grass. “No, thank you, sir, but perhaps you could help me. I’m looking for Caleb Mathis. Could you direct me to his ranch?”

“You’ve found him,” Caleb replied, taking a step forward. “This is my partner, Justin Carter. What can we do for you?”

The man pulled off his hat, revealing a long swath of oddly colored brown hair. In fact, the hue was a near exact match for the stallion’s ugly hide. His voice changing to a higher, decidedly feminine pitch that made my cock twitch inexplicably, he glanced around and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “My name is Madelaine O’Connor. I’m here in response to your advertisement for a wife.”

Caleb coughed out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re looking for a woman to be our wife, but the offer of a job stands if you’re interested.”

O’Connor amused me, that was for sure, and it had been a long time since I’d found anything funny. Despite myself, I was interested in the small fellow’s story. “What really brings you out to Montana?” I asked.

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