The Lone Cowboy of River Bend
The man they’re all talking about…Gossip has spread far and wide about the broken-hearted recluse of River’s Bend – and who will be the lucky girl to heal him!But Nate Rolfe knows his isolated homestead offers no life for a woman. Plus, he has more pressing matters on his mind than unwanted female attention, such as tracking the elusive band of cattle rustlers plaguing Fir Mountain, and the plight of his family’s determined new housekeeper, Hannah Brooks, who is like no woman he’s ever met before.…and the woman who could win his love!Hannah will do anything to protect her illegitimate daughter, but with no family, no job and soon no home, the future looks bleak for a woman of her reputation. So now she has no choice but to turn to the family her outlaw lover warned her against contacting before he died. Only, Nate is nothing but kind to her and little Jemma.As she is drawn into Nate’s life – and tempted into his arms – Hannah must decide if she can trust him with both the truth of Jemma’s birth, and her own bruised and wary heart…
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The Lone Cowboy of River Bend
Lori Connelly
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
HarperImpulse
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London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Lori Connelly 2017
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Lori Connelly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008263126
Ebook Edition © July 2017 ISBN: 9780007544493
Version: 2017-06-21
Table of Contents
For my family
Silver Falls City, Oregon - November 1891
At high noon, Nathaniel Rolfe looked up, away from the teeming town square to the clear blue sky. The sun blazed gold overhead. On this rare winter day, not a drop of rain, flake of snow or cloud above was present, only the pronounced chill in the air suggested it was nearing the end of November. The drone of countless conversations around him increased in volume and his breath frosted the air in an irritated huff.
Restless, Nate straightened away from the old, weathered post as Marshal Evansâ voice cut through the din. He turned, giving his back to the gallows. He determined the best way to escape the crowd after the hanging while only half listening to the lawmanâs statement. With nothing left to do, he tugged the brim of his hat down, shielding his eyes from the sunlightâs glare, and waited.
An expectant hush fell. The group surrounding him pressed in tighter. He tensed, eager to be gone. As soon as Nate heard the leaves of the trap door crash open, he started walking and didnât bother glancing back. People who usually stayed at home during this time of year, rarely socializing with those outside their immediate family, stood young to old all around him, doing the exact opposite. He shook his head in disbelief, watching them crane their necks, straining to get a better view of the Nash brothers hanging at the ends of their ropes. Only the bonds of friendship and family brought him to this spectacle and he couldnât wait to leave.
It wasnât that he disagreed with the sentence. The two men convicted of the murder of Janet Payne and the abduction of his shirttail cousin, Claire, had been guilty beyond all doubt. Theyâd earned their fate. Still, Nate frowned when cheers echoed down the length of the street. He took in the excited crowd, hooting and hollering, celebrating death, and his scowl deepened. It was times like this he questioned taking part in society at all.
Nate quickened his stride, heading toward the Trailâs End Saloon on the edge of Silver Falls City, where heâd arranged to meet his friend, Matthew Marston. People littering the streets and plank sidewalks hindered him, slowing his pace. After only a few yardsâ progress the sensation of someone staring at him prickled his skin, further souring his mood. Two possibilities sprang to mind. Occasionally a person took a less-than-polite interest in the scar a strand of barbed wire had left over his eye in childhood. He hoped that was it.
However, something odd had been happening lately. Women had been taking an undue interest in him. He pressed onward harder, somewhat faster, but hadnât made it ten steps before a young woman planted herself in his path.
âYouâre him, arenât you?â She matched his sidestep, stopping him cold when he tried to dodge her.
Nate stepped in the other direction. âExcuse me.â
Again, she matched his movement, remaining directly in his way as she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. âIâm Nancy and youâre the-â
âNo,â he broke in, hoping to stop her loud, high-pitched voice from cutting through the ruckus of the crowd and drawing more unwanted attention to him.
Her hands clapped together like an excited child. âYes, you are.â
