The Wrong Cowboy
One mail-order bride in need of rescue! All the rigorous training in the world could not have prepared nursemaid Marie Hall for trailing the wilds of Dakota with six orphans. Especially when her ingenious plan—to pose as the mail-order bride of the children’s next of kin—leads Marie to the wrong cowboy! Proud and stubborn, Stafford Burleson is everything Marie’s been taught to avoid. But with her fate and that of the children in his capable hands, Marie soon feels there’s something incredibly right about this rugged rancher and his brooding charm.... “A delightful western…humor, realism and sweet emotion.” —RT Book Reviews on Inheriting a Bride
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“He’s not at the ranch, either,” Mr. Burleson said then.
“Mr. Wagner?” she asked, even though she knew that was exactly who Stafford Burleson meant.
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
He shrugged. “Texas. Mexico.”
Marie couldn’t deny a quick flash of relief as it washed over her. Maybe she wouldn’t have to face the marriage issue right away. She and the children could get settled in and …
“For how long?” she asked.
His gaze never left the road. “Can’t rightly say. Could be next spring before he gets back.”
“Next spring?”
Panic overtook any sense of relief. Her funds were almost gone. The children would starve to death by then, unless … She shivered at the thought, but unfortunately Stafford was her only hope.
Something in his eyes, the way they shimmered, had her mouth going dry, her nerves tingling as though a storm was approaching. Maybe there was another option.
“Who lives at Mr. Wagner’s ranch in his absence?”
“Me.”
Welcome to THE WRONG COWBOY. If any of you have read THE COWBOY WHO CAUGHT HER EYE, Marie was the woman on the train with all the children. From the moment I typed that minor reference I knew I had to write her story.
In doing so, I was also provided with the opportunity to incorporate an inanimate object that used to drive me crazy into one of my books. Our previous home had a wood stove that I could build a fire in blindfolded. Then we moved into this house and I encountered the stove from—well, you know … That stove and I battled … I have a scar from when the door mysteriously swung shut, hitting me on the head. Mysteriously because I was the only one at home. I am glad to say that stove never got the better of me—not completely—before we replaced it years ago.
Unfortunately the stove Marie encounters does best her—but everything happens for a reason.
I hope you enjoy meeting Marie, Stafford and all the children who eventually provide Marie with the family she’s always wanted.
To my wonderful friend Jean.
Thanks for the lunch dates, the brainstorming, and the research trips.
LAURI ROBINSON’s chosen genre to write is Western historical romance. When asked why, she says, ‘Because I know I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to grow up and marry Little Joe Cartwright.’
With a degree in early childhood education, Lauri has spent decades working in the non-profit field and claims once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one she took the challenge, and has loved every minute of the journey.
Lauri lives in rural Minnesota, where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren. She works part-time, volunteers for several organisations, and is a diehard Elvis and NASCAR fan. Her favourite getaway location is the woods of northern Minnesota, on the land homesteaded by her great-grandfather.
Contents
August, 1884, Dakota Territory
Stafford Burleson prided himself on a few things—he wasn’t a quitter, his cooking wasn’t all bad, he was a mighty fine carpenter and he was quick on his feet. His wits were good, too. He was known for coming up with a plan at a dead run, yet right now he found himself dumbfounded. “What?”
“Mick’s mail-order bride is waiting for him at the hotel in Huron.” Walt Darter’s scratchy voice repeating exactly what he’d said a moment ago made about as much sense the second time around as it had the first.
This time Stafford added a few more words to his question. “What are you talking about?” He set his cup down and dug his fingers into hair that sorely needed a good cutting. His scalp had started to tingle and he scratched at it. Eerily. “Mick didn’t order a bride.”
“That’s not what she says.” Walt couldn’t have looked more stone-cold serious if he’d been standing before a judge and jury.
“Who?”
“Miss Marie Hall.” The old man’s face was sunburned from years of riding in the summer sun, and as he said her name a grin formed and his chest puffed with pride as if he’d just announced he’d found a goose that laid golden eggs.
The woman’s name was completely unknown and Stafford pondered that. No one from Huron had been out this way for several months. Not that it was expected. The little town of Merryville had sprung up around the people who chose to stay behind when the railroad camp packed up to follow the tracks westward. There weren’t too many businesses there yet, but he and Mick now bought their supplies in Merryville. It was only a few miles north of their land, and the railroad company had promised that, when the line was done, a depot would be built in the settlement, which meant cattle could be shipped and received there. It was what he and Mick had predicted would happen when they settled on their tracts of land and formed a partnership for the Dakota Cattle Company.
