HIS CHOSEN BRIDE

Yesterday HIS CHOSEN BRIDE was hitting the store shelves!!! So  to entice you to buy it, I thought I'd share the first few pages with you... I hope you enjoy Levi and Millie's story.

Chapter One

Millie Hamilton stood in the stagecoach doorway and looked out on the town before her. Dusty, rustic and sparse. Most certainly not like her beloved hometown of Cottonwood Springs, New Mexico, with its trees along Main Street and flower boxes in front of businesses. No, she was finally in Granite, Texas, six months past her original arrival date.

"Miss Millicent Summer?"

Millie knew without being told that the man in front of her was Levi Westland, the man who'd expected to marry her six month ago. She was to have been his mail-order bride. She recognized him from the photograph he'd sent her in his last letter, though the small picture hadn't done him justice. Surely he hadn't continued to meet the stage daily.

 "Yes?" Millie allowed him to take her gloved hand and assist her from the stage.

“I'm Levi Westland."

 

To say Levi Westland was handsome would have been an understatement. Piercing green eyes shone from his face like gleaming porcelain and two dimples appeared as if loving fingers had squeezed his cheeks. She was caught off guard by the sudden flutter in her heart. He was the most handsome man she'd ever met and that meant trouble for her.

Just click on the cover to buy the book and read more :) Thanks!!

Chapter 1 Bluebells and Shotgun Shells

Chapter 1

 

They were late.

 

Kathryn Snow placed a potted plant on the table as a centerpiece and checked her watch again. She held it to her ear. Maybe the crazy thing had fast-forwarded and she was early. She set a tray of new flowers on one end of the long table and another tray of potted plants beside them but her heart wasn’t in the preparations. It wasn’t like the unofficial garden club, the Tuesday Bunch, or her employee, Allen Cross, to be late.

A smile touched her lips as she headed to the back of the florist shop. The Tuesday Bunch met every Tuesday morning to discuss their flowerbeds, vegetable gardens, or the goings on in the community. She picked up the coffee pot and placed it on a rolling cart, added Styrofoam cups, plastic spoons, creamer, and sugar then rolled it up front beside the table.

Heading back to her office, she entered a short hallway and checked the clock on the wall. Allen was half an hour late. Kathryn stopped. He’s never late. She nibbled the inside of her jaw and said a silent prayer for his safety then she muttered to herself. “Maybe I should call him.”

The words had barely left her lips when the bell above the door jingled. Kathryn turned toward the sound.  Thinking it might be Allen she headed back to the front of the store.

“Good Morning, Kathryn. Sorry we’re late.” Betty Wright announced as the small group of ladies entered the store and then clustered about the coffee pot. Betty’s brown eyes were bright and her round cheeks held a hint of pink. Excitement radiated about her. If her brown hair hadn’t been pulled back in a ponytail, Kathryn felt sure it would be sticking out in all directions.

Kathryn studied the excited faces.  Nora Larson stood a head taller than the others. Her black hair touched the bottom of her ear lobes, revealing a throbbing vein in her neck. If her breathing hadn’t been normal no one would guess at the exhilaration that coursed through her. Charlotte Rattle’s big blue eyes sparkled. She nervously pushed her shoulder length blonde hair back. The only one in the group who didn’t exhibit any form of excitement was Molly Ward. She seems as uninterested as they came.

“I brought a new batch of muffins for us to try.” Molly sat the wicker basket on the serving cart beside the coffee pot.

“What caused you to be late?” Kathryn joined them. She picked up a cup and waited for the sugar.

“A murder!” Betty squealed unable to contain her excitement one moment longer.

Disbelief washed over Kathryn. “A murder? Here in Lacey?” She watched her friends nod.

One of the reasons Kathryn loved Lacey, Oklahoma was because of the low crime rate. It was like living in Mayberry USA. Nothing ever happened… but during the last few years it had started to grow. Sadly, with growth comes crime.

Nora bobbed her head up and down. “Yep, right here. I still can’t believe it.” Now she shook her head and looked down. Spotting one of Molly’s muffins she picked it up and nibbled on the edge. “These are good, Molly.”

“Thanks.” Molly stirred sugar into her cup and sat down. “It’s sad but I’m not surprised. Lacey has been growing. All kinds of people have moved into our valley.” She lowered herself slowly into a chair.

“What happened, Molly?” Kathryn picked up a muffin and then joined the others at the table. She sat down beside her old friend. Molly was a couple of years older than Kathryn with premature grey sprinkled within her black hair, clear blue eyes, and a no nonsense attitude.

Molly waited until everyone had their drink and muffin and were seated at the table before answering. “Do you know the Chef at Rio’s Italian Restaurant, Cody Monroe?”

Kathryn hadn’t actually met the young man but she knew his name. Everyone who lived in Lacey had either eaten the young chef’s cuisine or heard the wonderful raves about it. She hadn’t gotten over to the restaurant yet, but had planned to someday.

At Kathryn’s nod she continued. “Well, he was shot and killed on Sherry Hamilton’s doorstep last night.”

“She’s a teacher. I think she teaches first grade. Doesn’t she Nora?” Betty asked.

Nora nodded.

“Who shot him?” Kathryn looked about at the others.

“That’s just it, the police don’t have a clue.” Charlotte answered before anyone else could.

Not to be outdone, Betty spoke up. “Yes they do. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, bluebells and baby’s breath.”

“I wouldn’t call that a clue.”  Molly said dryly.

“Well, it could be. Couldn’t it, Kathryn?” Betty leaned forward.

Kathryn didn’t know why Betty asked her but answered. “I have no idea.”

Molly sipped at the hot coffee. Her gaze seemed to be focused far away. “They may not have a clue but they do have a suspect.”

“Really? Who?” Kathryn pushed away from the table. She moved to the tray of flowers she’d brought in earlier and began setting them in front of the ladies. This was their normal way of doing things but none of the women seemed interested in the blossoms.

“Sherry Hamilton’s boyfriend,” Molly answered. She set her cup down and reached out to touch one of the red-violet petals before her.

Kathryn admired the Firewheel flower, too. “Why would they think he did it? Did he have the gun on him?” She asked setting another annual in front of Nora.

Betty answered. “They think he did it in a jealous rage.” She’d lowered her voice to a whisper and everyone leaned toward her except Molly who made a huffing noise.

Charlotte whispered dramatically. “I hear he gave them quite a fight.”

“Did they arrest him?” Nora whispered back.

Molly’s voice sounded really loud as she answered in a normal voice. “Of course not. They’re questioning him. They don’t have any real proof.”

“Oh Molly, you broke the mood.” Betty fussed. She sat back in her chair. “No, but they will. There isn’t anyone else that didn’t like him.”

Kathryn could tell Molly didn’t take well to the tone in Betty’s voice and hurried to ask. “Who says there isn’t?”

They all stared at her for several moments.

“See? I told you she could do it.” Molly took another drink of her coffee and looked pleased with herself.

“You’re right. Kathryn could do it.” Charlotte smiled and nodded at the other members of the Tuesday Bunch. They returned her nods and smile with their own.

Kathryn gave up on trying to interest them in the plants. “What could I do?” She demanded sliding back into her chair. 

“Why, solve the case of course.” Nora answered as if that were the most likely answer.

Kathryn spilled the coffee she’d been raising to her lips on the front of her green blouse. “What? Have you lost your minds? I can’t solve it.”

“Sure you can.” Betty pressed. “You know all about how to solve mysteries.”

“I do not.” Kathryn mopped at the wet mess with a paper napkin that Molly handed her.

The room remained silent. Kathryn raised her gaze to find them all staring at her. After several long moments of silence, she asked. “What makes you think I can do that?”

They all moved in closer. Nora whispered. “Because, you read those novels. We all know how you love them. Allen says you know who did it before you’re half way through the book.”

Kathryn laughed. “That’s fiction. It’s not real.” They continued looking at her expectantly. Uneasy, she pushed away from the table again and began to pace. “Look, I don’t know the first thing about how to solve a real crime.” More silence filled the air. “Besides the authors give me the clues. No one is going to lay the clues out in this case.”

“Where is Allen?” Molly asked.

Happy that the subject had been changed Kathryn answered. “I don’t know. He hasn’t come in yet.”

“It’s not like we’re asking you to solve the mystery all by yourself, Kathryn.” Betty commented.

Maybe if she just ignored them, they’d drop the subject.

Charlotte picked up where Betty left off. “Yeah, don’t you have a police lady friend? What is her name?” She looked to Nora for the answer.

“Robin Gray. Remember she went to school with my Jonathan.” Nora answered. She spun the plant in front of her around. “What kind of plant is this?” She asked.

“That’s a Devil’s Ivy.” Kathryn answered.

Charlotte shook her head. “You can’t buy that plant Nora.”

“Why not, I like its dark green leaves?” Nora protested rubbing the shiny foliage between her fingers.

Kathryn wanted to smile. These women often reminded her of children with their playful bickering. “Because if Rusty gets a hold of it, it could kill him. Devil’s Ivy is poisonous to dogs.”

“Do you think I could make it a hanging plant? Rusty is a Cocker Spaniel, he wouldn’t climb up and get it.”

Kathryn smiled. “That’s up to you. If you do get it, make sure it hangs very high and that none of its leaves fall to the floor.”

“OK.” Nora stood and moved to one of the flowering plants. “Maybe, I’ll get something else. I’d hate for Rusty to sick or worse, die.”

“Speaking of death and dying, will you snoop around and tell us what happens with the murder?” Betty picked up a pot of pansies.

Kathryn took a deep breath, “No, I won’t.”

“Come on. What will it hurt?” Nora asked. She picked up a fern with little purple flowers. “Do you think this would look good hanging from my porch?”

“I do.” Charlotte answered.

“Because, I don’t want to get in the way of the police. I don’t have a clue how to find out who shot the poor man, and I have my hands full with the flower shop and green house without adding something else. And yes, I agree with Charlotte that fern would look beautiful on your porch.”

Betty opened her mouth to protest Kathryn’s denial of investigating.

Kathryn held her hand up. “No, end of discussion. I am not going to snoop around. This is serious business, not a novel.”

The rest of the meeting went pretty quick. Charlotte bought the fern. Betty the Devil’s Ivy, Molly went to the greenhouse and selected a Tommy Toe tomato plant, and Nora ended up with a beautiful new pot painted with chickens for her kitchen windowsill. 

Molly was the last to leave. She turned to Kathryn. “Are you sure you won’t investigate just a little into the Monroe case? I’m sure Robin will help you.”

“No, I won’t. Robin could get into trouble giving out information. I won’t ask her to do that.”

Molly picked up her tomato plant. “Maybe you could just look into it, not involve Robin or get in the police’s way.”

“Really, I can’t. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Kathryn walked her to the door.

Molly’s face registered disappointment but she nodded her head in understanding. “Okay, well I’m off to work. See you later.” Kathryn closed the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment.

Would it really hurt if she did a little snooping?

Prologue to Bluebells and Shotgun Shells

I hope you enjoy the sneak peak into Bluebells and Shotgun Shells.

BLUEBELLS AND SHOTGUN SHELLS

A Kathryn Snow Cozy Mystery: Kathryn Snow has her hands full with running her flower shop The Petal Pusher and keeping up with the Tuesday Morning Bunch. When her co-worker, Allen Cross's nephew is accused of murder and the Tuesday Morning Bunch expect her to solve who killed local chef, Cole Monroe, will Kathryn find more than Cole's killer?

Prologue

 

     “Steady. Get a good shot. Focus on the head. This is no different than target shooting. Well, it is but I can do it. People are no different than animals. I’ve been practicing for days to do this. All I have to do is pull the trigger. 

It was definitely Monday. Cody Monroe pulled the bluebells and baby’s breath bouquet off the seat. He dropped the card that went with them and bent over in the seat to pick it up. His fingers fumbled around in the semi-darkness in search of the little envelope. Why hadn’t he done this earlier? “Got it.”  He hurried up the walkway to Sherry’s front door.

Pull the trigger now!

The sound of the shot filled the dusky night air.

Hurry! Your prey is down. Run, see if he’s dead.

Cody groaned.

Oh no! Don’t think, just aim for the heart this time. Pull the trigger! Hurry, the police will be here soon and you still have to kill her, too.

More shots filled the night air and then all fell silent.

FREE - First Chapter of STUCK ON YOU a Christmas Novella

 

Chapter 1

"What do you see in these things?”

Sheila’s gaze moved to the Christmas ornament her sister Samantha held up. A little brown mouse held a sprig of mistletoe over its head; its lips were puckered up and its eyes tightly closed. She loved that piece. “What’s not to like?” she countered. She bent back down and carefully unwrapped another Woodland ornament.

“It’s a rodent, Sheila!”

The wrapping paper revealed a little brown bunny pulling a winter sled and two cute baby skunks under a blanket. “No, it’s a cute Foster’s Woodland creature; it’s a collectible.”

“Just because the signature on the bottom says ‘Foster’s Woodland Collectibles’ does not make it cute.”

Samantha placed the ornament on a low-hanging tree branch with two fingers as if it carried some kind of disease.

“No, cute is in the eye of the beholder, and I say they are cute.”

Samantha’s laughter tinkled throughout the room. She flipped her blond hair over a slender shoulder, winked, and then teased, “Is that why you still don’t have a boyfriend? No one’s cute enough?”

Sheila took the ribbing in stride. She stuck out her tongue at her baby sister. “For your information, I haven’t found a man who’s nearly as sweet as these little critters.” She hung the rabbit and baby skunks on the tree.

From the corner of her eye, Sheila watched her older sister, Sarah, waddle into the room. Sarah and her husband, Dave, were expecting their second child in two months.

“Well, maybe if you got your nose out of a book for a little while, you’d find a husband,” Sarah snipped.

With her hands on her hips, Samantha confronted Sarah. “We were only joking. No need to get ugly.”

“Who’s getting ugly? I’m just thinking Sheila deserves to be as happy as you and I are.” She patted her well-rounded stomach and smiled.

It was the same every year. Sheila shook her head. Samantha in her playful way would tease about the lack of a husband in her life, and then their sister Sarah would take it to a more serious level. She sighed. “Books are how I make a living, Sarah.”

“I know, but do you have to become a recluse to be a writer?” Sarah lowered her body into a chair, all the while protecting her stomach with her right hand.

Unlike Samantha, Sarah had a bob-style haircut and dark brown hair. At the moment, with her rounded tummy, she reminded Sheila of the purple character from that movie where the boy ends up with the chocolate factory.

 “Did the doctor say if the baby was going to arrive before Christmas?” Sheila hoped the change of subject would take her sister’s mind off their current discussion.

Sarah sighed. “No, he insisted this baby is going to arrive around New Year’s.”

“I’m sorry, sis.” Samantha knelt beside Sarah’s chair and placed her hand on her sister’s bulging belly.

A twinkle entered Sarah’s eye. “I bet I’ll have this baby before Sheila can find a date for the family Christmas Eve party.” She winked at their youngest sister.

Samantha groaned.

Sheila answered in a dismissive voice. “You know I don’t play those kinds of games.” She set the box of ornaments to the side and stood. “How about a cup of hot chocolate, a nice fat sugar cookie, and a change of subject?”

A couple of hours later, Sheila returned to the living room to finish decorating her Christmas tree. With both her sisters on their way home to their own homes, she could enjoy her collection and dream of the many stories they conjured up in her mind. Sheila’s creativity seemed to explode with ideas when she unwrapped the ornaments she loved.

Sheila turned on the music and hummed along with “Away in a Manger” as she pulled a tiny squirrel decorating a Christmas tree from the brown wrapping paper. She smiled at the delightful sight within her hand. In her mind’s eye, she could see the squirrel’s little home. It stood behind the small Christmas tree he worked to decorate. Colorful Christmas lights decorated the tiny window in the bark of the tall oak tree.

The sound track changed, and soft, whimsical music filled her ears as her mind continued to picture the scene. Tiny rabbits, mice, badgers, raccoons, and other forest animals joined the little squirrel, and they held hands and swayed to the tune of “Silent Night.” The star on the top of the little tree shone brightly.

She shook her head to clear it of the joyful scene. “It’s time to write the stories I have placed in your heart.”

Every year the same thought entered her mind. This year she sat down and looked up at the tree. All kinds of Woodland animals filled the branches. Over the years, she had thought up many stories for each ornament.

“I really should write stories about you guys.” She spoke aloud to the tree and the many ornaments that covered it.

Sheila picked up the phone and dialed her editor, Erin Walters, in New York. When her editor picked up, she said. “Hi, Erin. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.” Sheila’s gaze moved to the clock.

In New York, it was 4:00 p.m.

“No, I have a few minutes. What can I do for you, Sheila?”

“Well, normally I’d put this in writing, but I wanted to run it by you first.” Sheila and Erin had become good friends over the past five years. She was thankful she could call her on a moment’s whim and discuss book ideas. Most editors were too busy for such phone calls.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’d like to do a set of Christmas stories based on Foster’s Woodland Collectibles ornaments. You know the ornaments I collect?” She held her breath and waited.

“Sure, I bought you one last year. Tell me about your ideas.”

Sheila was breathless when she hung up the phone. While talking to her editor, she’d gotten excited about the stories and what messages of faith she could impart in them. Her excitement had spilled over into the phone line.

Erin told her she’d love to publish such stories, but Sheila had to get permission from the creator of the ornament collection and a synopsis with multiple stories sketched out to take to the pub board next week.

She looked about her living room. The newly decorated

Christmas tree with its warm lights and friendly forest creatures gave the room a homey feeling. Her gaze moved to the fireplace where she’d hung stockings for her sisters and herself. It, too added warmth to her cozy home.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she thought about her life. Being the middle child in a three-girl family often had its drawbacks. Like today when Sarah demanded she find a husband by New Year’s. Why couldn’t her sisters understand that God hadn’t blessed her with just the right man?

The smell of freshly baked sugar cookies greeted her as she entered her kitchen. A smile crossed her face at the many gingerbread men that decorated the room. They danced on the curtains, offered goodies from the canisters, and graced the faces of several plates that adorned one wall.

Gingerbread men and women cookie figurines sat on the counters and ledges. The set of salt and pepper shakers on her stove even resembled the fanciful men. Gingerbread-men plates were placed about the room holding sugar cookies that were decorated like Christmas trees, Santa’s, flowers, presents, and angels. Even a few gingerbread men filled the plates.

“What man would put up with my weird collections?” Sheila asked as she came into the room.

A large tabby cat answered as she meowed and stretched in one of the chairs. She extended her claws and made paw prints on her plush pillow.

“That’s what I think, too, Chrissie. Most men are too serious for my taste. They don’t like cartoons, chocolate, sugar cookies, or fat cats.” Sheila filled her teakettle with water and placed it on the back burner of the stove.

Chrissie sniffed and raised her tail up into the air. Her nose went up, as well, and she stalked out of the room. “I wasn’t calling you a fat cat,” Sheila called after her. “And some men like cats, some like cookies, and some even enjoy cartoons, but I’ve yet to find one who likes everything I do.” She shook a box of cat treats.

The cat stuck her head back around the corner. Sheila poured a small pile of the treats into the cat’s bowl. “Come on. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were a fat cat.” She stroked the feline’s back as Chrissie nibbled at her delicacies.

“I should probably check online and see if I can find information on how to get in touch with Mr. Foster.” She stood and took a sugar cookie off one of the many plates that were sitting around. Sheila nibbled at the yellow frosting of a daisy shaped flower.

The teakettle began to steam on the stove. She laid the cookie down on a small saucer, picked up her favorite Christmas mug, and added hot-chocolate mix to it. Then she added the water and stirred, all the while thinking about Morgan Foster.

He was probably an old man with a beard and round belly. She imagined he had a love for nature and spent long hours in the woods. Sheila pictured him petting a deer and feeding it an apple.

As the scent of hot cocoa filled her nose, Sheila laughed. He sounded a lot like Santa Claus. She dropped six mini marshmallows into the cup. After adding a couple of more cookies to the saucer, she picked up her large mug of hot chocolate and headed for her office.

The room welcomed her like an old friend. The artificial fireplace warmed the room. She took a seat at the desk that faced a large, open window. The tree outside reminded her of the little squirrel. She rolled her mouse to make the computer screen come to life then typed in “Foster’s Woodland Collectibles.”

Sheila knew stores carried the ornaments and figurines, but where did one look for the artist? Sheila put a plus symbol after Collectibles and added Artist. The screen flickered for several moments before pulling up several Web links.

Up popped www.Fosterswoodlandcollectibles.com onto the screen. She clicked on the link and was pleasantly surprised to see a picture of a man with unruly brown hair and smiling blue eyes appear on the screen. “Probably his grandson,” she told a meowing Chrissie.

As she read aloud, her eyes grew round. “The creator of Foster’s Woodland Collectibles lives in Snowbound Village, Connecticut.”

She looked over at Chrissie and whispered, “Oh, he lives here in Snowbound and is going to be at the mall today!”

A SNEAK PEEK at TAMING THE TEXAS RANCHER

TAMING THE TEXAS RANCHER

Release date October 1, 2013

 

Granite, Texas
Spring 1886"What are you doing here?" Daniel Westland scowled at his younger brother, Levi. He'd been running late, and seeing his brother standing there, looking freshly cleaned and pressed, was not what he'd expected. The wildflowers in Levi's hands spun daintily in the breeze that swished about them as the stagecoach pulled to a stop.

Dust filled the air, and both men shaded their eyes against the grit. As soon as the horses came to a complete halt and the dust settled, Levi answered, "I imagine I'm here for the same reason you are, big brother."

Levi grinned. His green eyes sparkled with mischief. Daniel's scowl deepened. Surely Levi hadn't sent off for a mail-order bride, also? But then again, maybe he had. Daniel pulled his hat farther down on his forehead to shade his eyes from both his brother and the sun.

While they waited for the driver to leap down and open the carriage door, Daniel thought of the woman within the stagecoach. She was a schoolteacher and had written that she felt it was time to have children of her own. The letter promised she had all her teeth, that she was twenty-eight years old and believed in God.

Daniel's jaw tightened. Once more he wanted to scream that he didn't have time for this, he had a ranch to run! Why his mother, Bonnie Westland, felt the need for grandchildren now was beyond his comprehension.

Truth be told, he wasn't ready for a wife or children, but his mother was feeling the pinch of old age. At Christmas she'd decided that her sons needed wives and she needed grandchildren. She'd proclaimed over dinner that the first son to marry and produce a grandchild would inherit the ranch.

Daniel swept his hat off and ran a weary hand through his hair. His mood darkened as he again noticed the fresh bouquet of wildflowers in Levi's tan hand. Why hadn't he thought to pick Miss Hannah Young flowers?

The two men's gazes met and clashed. Levi winked at him and then continued to watch the door expectantly. Why did Daniel let his younger brother get under his skin so? He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Unlike Levi, he didn't have time to stop and smell the flowers, or in this case pick them for a stranger. He slapped at the dirt on his pant legs. He'd been more concerned about fixing the west fence on the ranch before he had to meet the stagecoach and his mailorder bride than he had sprucing up for her.

The driver set a wooden box in front of the coach door and then reached for the handle.

Daniel quickly did a self-inventory. His tan shirt hid most of the day's sweat and grime. Thankfully, he was wearing dark brown pants or he'd really look shabby to his new bride. His work boots were covered in a fine layer of dirt and mire. He knocked a chunk of dried mud off the hem of his trouser leg.

The sound of Levi's low, appreciative whistle brought Daniel's head up.

A vision of loveliness stood in the doorway of the coach. As she stepped down onto the wooden box, her blue travel dress floated about her, much how he would imagine ocean waves would look. Silky black ringlets framed her heart-shaped face. Stormy blue eyes scanned the small town and then alighted on him.

She held his gaze for several long minutes, and during that time Daniel felt as if his heart were being squeezed and his lungs had lost all means of holding air. He hadn't expected Hannah Young to be so beautiful.

Levi stepped forward and clasped her hand in his. "I'm Levi Westland." He helped her step down from the box until her feet touched the ground. "Are you Mil-licent Summer?"

Her voice sounded soft and almost musical. "I'm sorry, Mr. Westland. I'm Hannah Young." Confusion laced her pretty blue eyes. "I am here to meet Daniel Westland. Did he send you to pick me up?"

"No, ma'am. I'm his brother, Levi."

Daniel stepped forward. "I'm Daniel Westland." His words squeaked out, making him sound much like an adolescent instead of the thirty-three-year-old man he was. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, extending his hand.

She smiled and placed her small gloved fingers in his. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Westland."

The coach driver set two large bags down beside her. "Here is your luggage, ma'am." He picked up the wooden box and replaced it inside the carriage.

Hannah released Daniel's hand and thanked the driver.

Levi looked inside the vehicle. Disappointment laced his voice. "Weren't there other passengers?"

The driver grunted as he climbed back aboard the stage. "Not this trip." He slapped the reins over the horses' backs, heading to the livery at a fast pace.

Levi stood watching them go. The dejected look on his face said it all: he had hoped to have a bride today, as well. Was Levi disappointed because he was behind in the game? Or had he somehow learned to care about Millicent Summers through her letters?

The look on his younger brother's face bothered Daniel. He squashed the feelings. He couldn't let them affect him now. Thanks to his mother's challenge, the ownership of the family ranch was at stake.

He returned his attention to Hannah Young and offered what he hoped was his best smile. "It's nice to meet you, too. Are you ready?" At her slight nod, he pressed on. "I thought we'd head on over to the preacher's house, and then enjoy an early supper before going out to the ranch." Now that the time to actually get married was here, Daniel felt as if someone had tied a big stone around his neck and was about to toss him into the river.

Would he ever feel right about marrying a woman who he wasn't sure he'd be able to protect and love? After the death of his sister and his inability to protect her on the ranch, what made him think he could take care of a complete stranger? If only his mother hadn't interfered in his life, he'd never have to find out.

He picked up her bags and looked again in Levi's direction. His brother stood off to the side with the flowers still clutched in his hand. Confusion furrowed his brow.

A featherlight hand landed on Daniel's forearm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Westland, but am I correct in my assumption that you are planning on our wedding being today?"

"Of course." He turned toward the buckboard, which waited in front of the general store. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

Her hand slipped from his arm. He'd taken several steps before he realized Hannah was no longer by his side. Daniel looked over his shoulder and saw that she stood where he'd left her, her arms crossed and a stern look upon her face.

He walked back to her. "Is something amiss, Miss Young?"

A new sharpness filled her voice as she informed him, "Mr. Westland, I don't believe that is what we agreed upon. Per my letter, we will not be married until I am properly courted, and only if we find there is love in our hearts for one another."

Daniel dropped the bags. He didn't like the firmness in her voice when she spoke to him. He wasn't one of her students, and they had to get married today.

Anger caused his next words to come out swift and full of emotion. "Madam, getting married today isn't something I relish, either. But it is what happens when a man places a mailorder bride ad and a lady accepts the offer. I did not agree to any other terms. I have a ranch to run, and the sooner we get this…" for a moment he faltered for words "…this marriage thing over with, the better. Now come along." He reached for her arm, figuring the tone he'd just used with her had scared more than one cowpoke into doing what he ordered.

She stepped back out of his reach. Determination laced her blue eyes and she responded in a stern manner of her own. "I don't think so, Mr. Westland. I sent a letter and told you my stipulations. By sending me tickets to come here, you agreed to those terms."

Daniel spread his legs and planted his fists on his waist. He ignored the grinning Levi, who'd taken a sudden interest in them. His sibling no longer resembled a dejected hound dog.

He turned his gaze from his little brother and focused on her. "Miss Young, I did not receive your letter and would never have agreed to your demands. Did you or did you not answer my mailorder bride ad?"

She offered him a sweet smile. Her blue eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight, much like a woman's jewels. Daniel felt sure she was about to say that it was all right and she'd be happy to marry him on the spot.

Instead, Hannah said, "Yes, I did. And I only did so because I thought you agreed to my terms. I'm sorry to hear that you didn't get my letter, but the terms still stand. I am not trying to be a demanding woman, Mr. Westland. But I will not be forced into a quick marriage."

Sweetness dripped from her lips, but determination filled her eyes. He could tell this woman was giving no quarter in their disagreement. He also realized they were gathering more attention than a bucking bull on Main Street.

He ground his teeth and scowled at his brother, who grinned back at him. This was not working out as Daniel had planned. "Come along. We'll discuss this over lunch." He walked back to her luggage and jerked it up.

Leave it to him to pick a bride who wanted to marry, but only for love. Why hadn't he gotten the missing letter? In the last one he'd received she'd said yes, that she'd like to come to Granite and meet him. Had she mentioned a long engagement? No, he felt sure he'd have remembered it if she had.

Upon reflection, he realized she'd said "meet" him, not marry him.