by Amelia Rose
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The Rancher’s Fiery Bride
Montana Westward Brides: Book 0
AMELIA ROSE
Dedication
To YOU, the reader.
Thank you for your support.
Thank you for your emails.
Thank you for your reviews.
Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Character List
Amelia’s Audio Books
Free Gift
Copyright
Chapter One
Birdsong filled the early late August air as Mason Crawford drove his buggy into town. Pretty, wispy clouds drifted across a crystalline blue sky and a cool, gentle breeze played through the trees and bushes that lined the road. However, all this natural beauty was lost on Mason because his mind was focused on what was about to happen.
In perhaps three-quarters of an hour, he would meet the future Mrs. Crawford. Miss Jenny Carson would be arriving in Spruce Valley, Montana Territory, on the three o’clock stagecoach, and Mason’s life would change forever. The question was whether it would change for the better or the worse.
Marrying a mail-order bride hadn’t been Mason’s idea. Heck, marrying at all hadn’t been his idea. No, his Aunt Cecilia and Uncle Herb had been the orchestrators of the whole affair. Frowning, Mason wondered yet again how he’d let the old couple talk him into getting hitched to a stranger. He’d tried to explain to them that he was happy just as he was, but they’d refused to listen to him.
They’d argued with him about it until finally telling him that they wouldn’t leave the Circle C Ranch to him when they passed on unless he got married. The ranch was Mason’s life, the place he imagined spending the rest of his life. He’d planned on getting married sooner or later, but he hadn’t been in a rush. He had plenty of time, didn’t he?
His aunt and uncle obviously didn’t think so. Aunt Cecilia had urged him to have children while he was young enough to enjoy them, as though twenty-nine was old. As he remembered the conversation, Mason let out a snort without being aware of it, and his horse’s ears flicked back at the sound.
Trepidation and dismay made his chest feel a little tight when Frost’s Station & Eatery came into view as he rounded a turn.
People shopped at the mercantile and ate in the little restaurant that took up the back third of the building. Both the stagecoach and the mail coach stopped there, and it was where many informal town meetings occurred. In fact, it was the busiest place in the small town. There were even a few rooms over the store that people could rent. Outside of Mrs. Snyder’s, it was the only place where visitors who didn’t have family in the area could stay.
Pulling up in front of the Station, as the townsfolk called it, Mason felt a little relieved to see that the stagecoach hadn’t arrived quite yet. It gave him a few minutes to become more resigned to the fact that he’d be a married man within a week. Looking across the street at the small, white clapboard building that stood empty, he admitted that Miss Carson coming to Spruce Valley would solve another problem besides providing him with a spouse.
Shortly before the end of the school year that spring, Mr. Bixby, the schoolteacher, had passed away from a heart attack, leaving the area youngsters without a teacher. As in many other communities in the territory, the ranchers and farmers of Spruce Valley often relied on their older children to help with the workload, but most of the citizens agreed that their kids should also receive an education.
So, when Mason had told his aunt that one of the women who’d answered his advertisement was a former governess, she’d insisted that he set his sights on her. Mason wasn’t a vain or superficial man, but he figured that a woman’s looks were something that should be considered when getting married. Committing to a woman he hadn’t seen didn’t appeal at all to him.
Therefore, he’d sent Miss Carson a picture and had received one in return. The sepia picture had made it difficult to tell Jenny’s hair color, but she’d informed him that she had red hair and blue eyes. She had a pretty smile, and her letters reflected a pleasant-tempered, intelligent woman.
After a couple more letters, Mason had asked her to come to Spruce Valley to marry him. He’d half-hoped she’d refuse but, alas, she’d accepted. And she’d be there in a matter of minutes.
Mason sighed as he wrapped the lines around the brake handle and jumped out of the buggy. He nodded to a few people he knew as he stepped onto the wide porch that ran the length of the storefront and doubled as the stagecoach depot. As he entered the establishment, the scents of fresh-baked bread and savory meat made his stomach growl.
Conversation flowed through the store, and carried over from the restaurant, too. Smiling when he heard a couple of kids laugh somewhere in the store as he approached the counter, Mason greeted Damon Frost, the owner of the Station.
“So, today’s the day,” Damon greeted him, his large, graying walrus mustache twitching as he smiled.
Mason nodded. “Yep. Sure is.”
Damon’s dark eyes twinkled. “Nervous, son?”
Mason met the portly, elderly man’s gaze. “Not nervous, more like I’ve accepted it.”
Damon guffawed and reached across the counter to thump Mason’s shoulder. “Now, now. This is a good thing. You’ll see. Don’t know what I’d have done all these years without my Maggie.”
Mason felt a rush of affection for one of his favorite people. Maggie Frost was, indeed, a special woman, and she and Damon were always amusing when they were together. “Well, she’s one of a kind,” he remarked. “I have no idea what Miss Carson is really like.”
“Give her a chance, Mason. I’m sure she’s just as nervous as you are, coming to a strange place like this,” Damon said. “Be the gentleman that Cecilia and Herb raised you to be.”
“Yes, sir,” Mason agreed. “I reckon you’re right.” He motioned at several wildflower arrangements in a large basket that sat on a stand close to the counter. “In fact, I’d like to get her one of those. And are there any tables free in the back? I figure that she’s gonna be plum starving when she gets here.”
“Good thinking,” Damon said. “Elmarie just brought those flowers in, so they’re nice and fresh. I’ll make sure that a table is clear for you.”
“Much obliged,” Mason said as he counted out some coins and handed them to Damon.
The bunch of flowers was priced less than he’d given, but fourteen-year-old Elmarie Harmon, who picked and sold the flowers, was trying to help support a sick mother and two younger brothers. Mason could afford a little extra to make things a little easier for the Harmons.
The sound of wheels, rapid hoofbeats, and squeaking springs announced the arrival of the stagecoach. Mason’s stomach dropped. Despite his statement to Damon, he did feel apprehensive. He was also surprised to find himself hoping that Miss Carson would like him, almost as much as he hoped he would like her.
With a tight smile to Damon, he took up the bouquet, carrying it almost as if it was a shield, and headed out the door to meet his intended.
Chapter Two
As the conveyance slowed to a halt, Jenny Carson did her best to freshen her appearance. It was no simple task after the hot, dusty ride that had seemed endless. Not only had the stagecoach been uncomfortable, but her traveling com
panions were unbelievably tedious. Mrs. Timmons, a shrewish, elderly woman, and her equally unpleasant son, Gary, had argued almost the entire way from the last stop just before they’d crossed into the Montana Territory.
Finally, at around noon, Jenny hadn’t been able to contain her frustration any longer and had shouted at them to cease their incessant bickering. Mother and son had traded shocked remarks about Jenny’s behavior before going silent. Blessed peace had reigned in the coach for the rest of the trip until the stagecoach driver had shouted down to them that they’d reach Spruce Valley within fifteen minutes.
Jenny’s head still hurt from their shrill voices and she thought she’d go insane from it. When the coach came to a final standstill, the Timmons pair wasted no time in disembarking. Jenny let her eyes drift shut for a few moments while she prepared to embark and meet her future husband.
The one blessing that had come from the churlish pair was that they’d largely distracted her from being nervous about coming to Spruce Valley. She rubbed her right temple as she took a deep breath and thought how wonderful some cool water would taste. Her eyes popped open when she remembered that she was about to meet her future husband. How could she have forgotten that?
Jenny smoothed the skirt of her powder blue muslin dress, collected her reticule and small embroidered carpetbag, and started for the stagecoach door. She gasped and took a hasty step backward when a man popped his head inside. Her legs bumped against the seat she’d just vacated, and she almost fell backward onto it.
At the last moment, she caught herself and glared at the man. “Do you always go around startling people like that?” she demanded.
Even though his cheeks turned a little pink, his mouth curved upwards in a smile. “Sorry about that, ma’am. I meant no harm.”
Mollified by his apology, Jenny took a step toward the door. “Very well.”
“Are you Miss Carson?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
The man’s smile broadened as he stepped back from the door. “In that case, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mason Crawford, the man you came to marry.”
Jenny’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat leaped at his pronouncement. Her stomach knotted with sudden nerves. Her gaze roamed over his face, and she was surprised by what she saw. She should have been able to recognize Mason from his picture, but the image hadn’t done the man justice.
While the photograph had shown a rather handsome man, it hadn’t accurately depicted his chiseled cheekbones, fine straight nose, and strong jaw. His smile drew her attention to his sensual, masculine mouth that stirred thoughts of kissing him in her mind. His dove gray eyes gleamed with amusement.
He held out a hand. “Let me take your bag.”
Jenny drew her thoughts together. “Oh, yes. Thank you.”
Mason took her bag and then gave her his free hand. “What say we get you out of there and get some food into you? I’m sure you’re ready for some vittles.”
His rough palm against hers turned the knot in her stomach into a fluttering bird as he assisted her out of the coach.
“She’s got two trunks here, Mason,” Ted Drayton informed the rancher.
Mason frowned but said, “That’s fine. They should fit in the back of the buggy.” His gaze turned to Jenny. “Aunt Cecilia insisted that I bring it instead of the wagon, so the ride home was easier on your behind.”
His teasing smile made it impossible for Jenny to take offense at his inappropriate remark. She’d heard far worse from her older brothers.
She arched an eyebrow and assumed a haughty air. “I’ll thank you to not worry about my behind, Mr. Crawford.”
Her tone made him chuckle. “Duly noted.”
Ted handed Jenny’s small trunks down to Mason and he loaded them in the buggy. He secured them with a leather strap to keep them from bouncing around. Jenny had brought a couple of things that were fragile and was glad that he was being careful with her belongings.
With a hand behind his back, Mason returned and held a bouquet of flowers out to her. “For you.”
Touched by his thoughtful gesture, Jenny gave him a bright smile as she accepted the bouquet. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the fresh, calming scent of lavender and daisies. Her anxiety melted away, and she opened her eyes to find Mason studying her.
“Thank you very much. They’re lovely,” she said.
A relieved smile enhanced his handsomeness, and Jenny was hard-pressed not to stare.
“You’re welcome. Well, how about those refreshments?”
Jenny chided herself over being so starry-eyed and regained her composure. “That sounds heavenly.”
She took the arm that Mason offered her and let him lead her toward the mercantile. It was a cheerful, if slightly odd-looking, structure. The front half of the building resembled most other general stores, but the back half was a few feet shorter and narrower. She didn’t have time to examine it in detail before they arrived at the front door. Mason opened it for her and motioned her inside.
Rows of straight wooden shelving stretched out before her. To the left stood the counter, upon which sat a thick ledger. A large, black pot-bellied stove was situated in the corner closest to the counter and several wooden chairs were arranged around it. It was evident that the store owner took pride in their establishment. Everything was clean and orderly.
While Jenny was busy looking around, Mason studied her. Her crimson hair was swept back in a high chignon that showed off her small, delicate ears and pretty neck. Although curly tendrils of hair had come loose, they didn’t detract from her appearance. A few freckles dotted the bridge of her slightly pert nose, under which her pretty mouth was curved in a small smile. Mason was glad to see that Jenny wasn’t petite or frail. Her dress hinted at lush curves that he could well-imagine would feel good in a man’s arms.
“So, she’s here!”
Mason jerked his eyes from Jenny at the sound of Damon’s voice. The store owner strode up the center aisle, his face lit up in a big smile.
“Miss Carson, this is my good friend Damon Frost. He owns the Station,” Mason said. “Damon, this is Miss Jenny Carson.”
Damon held out a hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Carson. Welcome to Spruce Valley. I hope you had a good trip.”
Jenny gave him her hand and smiled. “How do you do, Mr. Frost? Thank you for asking. The trip was fine, if rather long.” She didn’t see the need to inform them about the unpleasant company of the Timmons.
“Is there a table ready in the back?” Mason asked. “I’m sure Miss Carson is thirsty and hungry.”
“Of course.” Damon motioned for them to follow him. “Right this way.”
As they walked down the center aisle, Jenny noted the quality merchandise Damon sold. Various tools, household items, and even toys lined the shelves. As they emerged from the store portion of the building, mouth-watering scents reached Jenny and she began to feel a little faint with hunger.
The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but it was clean with pretty curtains at the large windows and red checkered tablecloths covering the tables. The hardwood floors were scuffed, indicating that many feet had walked on them.
Damon led them to a table in a corner away from the windows, which Jenny appreciated. It would be cooler there, out of the sun. Mason pulled out a chair for her and she allowed him to seat her. She took the white napkin from in front of her and spread it across her lap as Mason took his seat across from her.
She watched him take off his tan hat, which he sat on the empty chair to his right. She noticed that his black hair was clean and looked like it had been recently trimmed, even though it still brushed his shoulders.
“Nell will be along in two shakes of a lamb’s tail to get your order,” Damon said. “She doesn’t let any grass grow under her feet.”
Jenny smiled at his proud tone as he left them.
“So, I saw the Timmons get off before you did. Your trip couldn’t have been all that good if you had to ride with them for any length
of time.”
Jenny blinked a couple of times, surprised by his remark. “You know them?”
Mason nodded. “Yep. They come to stay with Mrs. Timmons’ brother, Edgar James, about this time every year. They visit for a month and then head back East. I’m not sure why they come since they’re always complaining about it here, but it’s really none of my business.”
Jenny noticed that several of the other diners kept glancing at her and Mason. “It’s not just this town they complain about,” she said. “They complain about everything; the weather, the squeaky coach wheels, the sun is too hot, the wind is too cold...”
Mason’s warm chuckle interrupted her, and Jenny couldn’t resist a giggle at the twinkle in his eyes.
“You already know them well,” he said.
The arrival of a woman Jenny assumed to be Nell prevented further conversation. Mason’s next remark confirmed her supposition.
“Nell Danvers, this is Miss Jenny Carson.”
Nell, a short woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, gave Jenny a tight smile. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Mason, good to see you. What’ll it be?”
Her rather brusque attitude didn’t seem to bother Mason, so Jenny decided not to take offense. “How do you do, Nell? I’d love some lemonade and a cold lunch of some sort. What do you recommend?” she asked.
Nell drew herself up, seeming proud to have been asked. “Well, how about a nice big sandwich? We have some real good ham and some nice cheddar cheese from Liddy Bentley. She makes the best cheese in these parts. Anson’s bread is especially tasty today, and we have pickled cabbage. How does that sound?”
Mason wondered if this was the same woman he’d known all his life. It was rare that Nell said more than ten words at a time.
Jenny hoped neither Nell nor Mason could hear her stomach growl. “It sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
This time, Nell’s smile was genuine. “You’re welcome.” Her expression cooled. “Your usual, Mason?”
Mason mumbled, “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”