The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection #3

by Margaret Brownley

  Jed turned to their dog. “What do you say, boy? Is it a deal?”

  Awf.

  Jed grinned. “You heard it from the boss.”

  Joy bubbled out of her as she pulled from his arms. She then grabbed his hand and coaxed him to his feet. Laughing like a schoolgirl, she led him up the porch and into the house with Dyna-Mo at their heels.

  “What are we doing?” Jed asked, knocking against the lamp.

  Releasing his hand, she moved to the side of her sofa and pointed to the other end. “Grab hold,” she said. “We’re moving this one out and the other one in.” The stilted furnishings were better suited for Boston’s formal lifestyle and not for the new life ahead of her as Mrs. Jed Colbert.

  Jed grinned from ear to ear. “Well, now. I’d say that’s a doggone good idea. What do you say, boy?”

  For answer Dyna-Mo wagged his tail and flopped down on the floor as if he meant to stay.

  Bestselling author Margaret Brownley has penned more than thirty novels. Her books have won numerous awards, including Readers’ Choice and Award of Excellence. She’s a former Romance Writers of America RITA finalist and has written for a TV soap. Happily married to her real-life hero, Margaret and her husband have three grown children and live in Southern California. Visit her at www.margaret-brownley.com

  The Dogwood Blossom Bride

  Miralee Ferrell

  © 2015 by Miralee Ferrell

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1- 63409-576-1

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Chapter 1

  Goldendale, Washington

  Late May, 1883

  Gracie Addison bit her lip to keep it from trembling—from anger rather than a desire to cry. Of all the tomfool things she’d ever heard of, this had to be the worst. She gave a light stamp of her foot, hoping her father would take her seriously for a change. “I have no interest whatsoever in Jerold Carnegie. I’m not cut out to be a high-and-mighty society lady, married to a politician.” She flicked a finger at her trousers and dusty boots, peeking out from under the rolled cuffs.

  Her father snorted his disapproval and leaned his arm against the mantel in the drawing room of their spacious home. “Exactly my point. You need to cease wearing those ridiculous costumes and utilize the manners your mother taught you before her death. If she had lived past your ninth birthday, she would be horrified at some of the choices you’ve made.”

  “Oh, posh, Father. Of all the people in my life, she understood my tomboy tendencies better than anyone. I’d think by now you’d be used to how I dress and the things I do.”

  He straightened, and a frown pulled at the corners of his normally cheerful mouth. “She understood when you were nine, but she would not have approved at nineteen. It is high time you act like a lady. Climbing trees and riding astride, not to mention wading into the creek to set traps for fish and any of the other numerous things you do, aren’t becoming. I want you to marry well, and Jerold Carnegie will succeed in this world. He’s a good man with an excellent reputation. What could you possibly have against him?”

  Gracie rolled her eyes. “He’s boring. B-O-R-I-N-G. He doesn’t have a particle of humor in his dry bones, and his mustache twitches at the slightest provocation. Besides, you’re doing a fine job caring for me. So whatever do I need with Mr. Carnegie?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Has it ever occurred to you that you are my only child, and as such, I would appreciate you carrying on our family line?”

  Gracie forced herself to relax her tense posture and stepped forward to give her father a hug. “I’m sorry for arguing. But I truly have no interest in Mr. Carnegie, and I see no need to rush into marriage.”

  His eyes closed for a brief moment then opened, and the corner of his lips tipped up. “All I ask is that you try, Gracie. To please me, if for no other reason. I have invited Mr. Carnegie to supper tonight, and I will expect you to dress and act the lady I know you can be. He is new enough in town not to have gotten wind of your antics yet—please, give yourself a chance to get acquainted.”

  She pressed her lips together and tried not to smile. Only last week the man in question had come upon her on the outskirts of town while she was riding her horse astride and wearing trousers. In spite of that start, she’d still glimpsed a flicker of interest in the man’s eyes. Somehow she’d have to find a way to quell that.

  Mr. Carnegie wasn’t altogether horrid. He was simply unappetizing—like a bowl of day-old bread soaked in milk when she hungered for steak. But she did hate to disappoint her father. “All right. I’ll be here for supper, but don’t expect anything more.”

  He grinned and started to reply, but she shook her head. “I mean it. I’ll be polite, but that’s all. And now I’m going to go for a walk.” Gracie pivoted and waltzed out of the room, humming a tune. Maybe she could position herself in a tree that Mr. Carnegie would ride beneath on his way to their home and discourage his attentions.

  She hid a smirk. The sight would shock him so much he wouldn’t return.

  Will Montgomery slumped in the saddle, weary and glad to have finally reached the outskirts of Goldendale. He glanced behind him to check on his eight-year-old niece, Laura. She had withstood the journey better than he had. The three-day-long winding climb up the Columbia Hills from The Dalles was enough to tire man and horse alike, but it wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d slept last night. A cougar screaming in the distance had kept him patrolling the area in front of the fire.

  It hadn’t awakened Laura, but he couldn’t take a chance the big cat would spot the little girl and decide she was an easy meal. The only things he wanted now were to get to Curt Warren’s home, see the child settled, and roll into bed. He twisted in his saddle and watched the bright-eyed girl riding her horse like she’d stepped into the saddle only an hour before. “Are you all right, Laura?”

  She nodded and grinned. “I’m getting kind of sore, but I don’t mind. I just wish I could wear trousers like you.”

  “We’ll be there soon, and you can rest.” He smiled to himself. Laura was so like her mother, Karen. Pain shot through his chest at the memory of his sister who had died an unnecessary death.

  He pushed the thought away. His new boss didn’t expect him to start work right away, so he’d have a few days to settle in before tackling his new profession. He was thankful for the job, but it was a far cry from the life of a cowboy he’d lived for the better part of his adult years. He hated giving up his life on the range, but it was time to find something that would provide a decent living—especially if he ever hoped to find a wife and settle down.

  He scowled. Not that he’d had much luck in that direction. Lucinda, the last girl he’d thought he cared for enough to marry had been nothing but a flirt. Something he hadn’t discovered until she’d dropped him for a newspaperman with aspirations of bigger and better things than a cowboy could ever attain.

  He wanted a woman like his mother had been—feminine and faithful to her man and her home. Looking back, Will felt as though he’d been saved from a bad marriage. Lucinda had sworn she’d never look at another man when they’d met, and he’d believed her.

  Until Reed Jenkins
waltzed into town. No, a solid girl with her head on her shoulders was what he needed, and he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

  Will came to a fork in the road and reined his horse to a stop under a flowering dogwood. If he remembered correctly, the Warren home and woodworking shop were to the right, but he’d better reread the directions in Curt’s letter.

  Will kept one hand on the reins and reached around with the other to his saddlebag. He fumbled with the buckle but finally got it open. As he searched inside, something overhead in the widespread branches of the dogwood tree rustled the leaves, and a shower of pink blossoms cascaded onto his shoulders. Dusty, his dapple-gray gelding, snorted but didn’t move.

  The branches close above his head shifted and swayed, and two trouser-clad legs with boots beneath dangled above Dusty’s nose. The horse bolted forward, making Laura’s horse snort and shy.

  Will tightened the reins and brought the startled horse to a stop. “Laura. Calm your horse, then get off.”

  He waited until the girl obeyed; then he swung Dusty around and heeled him forward, halting him directly under the small boots. Definitely a youngster, but one who needed to be more careful. “Hey you. Boy. Come down here.”

  A gasp and then a titter sounded above him, but no one answered.

  “This isn’t funny. You can’t go around swinging from trees and spooking horses. My niece nearly got hurt.”

  Even the birds that had been scolding from branches high up in the neighboring tree had stilled their chatter, but the boy didn’t respond. In fact, one leg slowly withdrew until the top of the boot began to disappear into the foliage.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Will stood in his stirrups and grasped the other dangling leg just above the boot. “You aren’t going to get off that easy.” He kept a tight grip on the boy and released his reins. He grabbed the other leg at the knee and yanked.

  Gracie felt the strong grip on her leg and gasped once again as she almost lost her grip on the tree. This was most definitely not Jerold Carnegie. She had no idea who it might be, as she’d never heard his voice before, but the man seemed determined to dislodge her from her perch. She held on to the branch above her with all her might.

  How humiliating—and a bit frightening—to be yanked from a tree by a stranger—or by anyone, for that matter. Gracie’s cheeks burned. And he thought her a boy who’d purposely spooked his horse. She’d been daydreaming and hadn’t even realized the man had stopped under her tree, or she’d not have allowed her feet to dangle.

  It had been a foolish whim to try to shock Mr. Carnegie and scare him off from wanting to court her, and she’d changed her mind minutes ago. She’d climbed to the lowest branch possible with the intention of jumping down and heading home. Maybe her father was right, and it was time she gave up such foolishness.

  If only she could get a better grip and climb high enough in the dogwood to keep from being found out by this stranger. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. What would he do to her if he caught her?

  He yanked on her legs again, and her grasp on the limb loosened. Perspiration slicked her palms. She wanted to demand the man release her, but speaking would give her away. She kicked one boot, trying to loosen his grasp and instead connected with a solid object.

  He groaned.

  Oh dear. Had she kicked the man’s head? Well, it served him right for being rough. “Let go of me, you lout!”

  His hold relaxed for a second, and Gracie made one last effort to heave herself higher into the branches. Pink dogwood blossoms drifting from the shivering tree clouded her vision.

  “No you don’t, you young scamp. First you spook our horses, then you boot me in the noggin. I ought to whip you when I get you down, but I’ll satisfy myself with presenting you to your pa and letting him do the honors.”

  The hands gripping her legs tightened like steel bands. Gracie hadn’t known a man could contain such strength. As the horse danced around beneath the tree, a mighty heave from below tore Gracie’s fingers from her hold. She plummeted down—right into the arms of the most handsome man she’d ever hoped to see.

  Chapter 2

  Will tightened his grip to keep from dropping the young woman he’d been certain was a boy, although she didn’t weigh as much as a bag of feathers. He gazed into the wide green eyes staring up into his, and took in the passel of red-gold hair that had come out of its binding. One wayward lock blew across his lips, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He reached for the tendril, not sure what he’d do with it when captured but completely enthralled at the touch.

  “Uncle Will, who is that?” Laura’s high-pitched voice behind him almost made him lose his hold and drop the young woman.

  The redhead clutched at his shirt collar, and dark color flooded her face. “Put me down this instant.” She swiveled her head, trying to see over his shoulder. “I don’t care to be embarrassed in front of your wife and child.”

  “Wife and child?” Will shifted the woman’s weight a bit, and his lips quirked. “My niece, Laura, is the only one with me, and I doubt she cares one way or the other about what happened.”

  Laura tugged her horse forward and turned her round eyes on the woman. “Why were you in that tree?”

  Some of the stiffness went out of the woman, but she glared at him rather than answer Laura’s question. “I will not talk to anyone while in this position—not even a child. Let go of me, or I shall make things quite unpleasant for you.”

  Will chuckled and shook his head. “I doubt a little mite like you could do much harm, but I’ll put you down. Swing your feet over to one side, and I’ll let you slip to the ground. Don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

  She did as he said, her boots hitting the ground with barely a whisper. She crossed her arms and took a step back. “I do not appreciate being laughed at or manhandled—or taken for a boy. Whatever did you pull me out of that tree for, anyway?”

  Laura tugged on her horse’s reins and walked closer to the woman. “What’s your name?”

  “Gracie Addison.”

  All the stuffing seemed to go out of the woman when she spoke to Laura, leaving her looking more like a vulnerable child than an adult. But that didn’t last long. She swung toward him, her fists planted on her hips and eyes narrowed. “I want an answer to my questions, along with your name, mister.”

  Will grinned, which seemed to make her madder. “Will Montgomery, ma’am, at your service.” He swept off his hat and gave a short bow. He probably should climb off his horse and introduce himself proper-like, but from the looks of the little dynamo on the ground, she’d light into him like a wild bull at branding time. No, sir, he was safer staying on his horse.

  “And like I said, this is my niece, Laura, who is in my care. As to why I pulled you out of that tree, I told you. You spooked my horse then kicked me in the noggin. I thought you were a boy out to pull a prank.” He raised his brows and chuckled. “You can’t blame a man for making a mistake when you dress like that and climb trees. What are you, all of fifteen or sixteen?”

  Gracie clamped her teeth on a cry of frustration. She’d shout at the insufferable man if it wasn’t for the wide-eyed child taking in every word that passed between them. Fifteen or sixteen, was she? “I’ll have you know, Mr. Montgomery, that I am nineteen, and what I wear or choose to do is no concern of yours. Why should I quit doing something I love?” She crossed her arms and tilted her chin.

  He shook his head, but the smile that both irritated and drew her lingered on those finely carved lips. In fact, his entire face was bathed in laugh lines as though he could barely contain himself. He swept off his hat, revealing brown curls that reflected a hint of gold in the sunlight, and the movement caused his shirt to tighten over the broad, well-built shoulders she’d gripped only moments before. “Why, I reckon most women your age are too busy trying to entice a man to marry them to care for such childish things as climbing trees.”

  Gracie glowered at him—a cowboy if ever she’d seen one—but
there were no big cattle ranches in their area, so what was he doing here? She narrowed her eyes. “Climbing trees is far from childish.” She directed her attention to the little girl with the long blond braid and dimpled cheeks. “Do you like trees, Miss Laura?”

  The girl giggled. “I’m not a miss. My name is just Laura. I’ve never climbed a tree. Uncle Will won’t let me. Maybe you can teach me.”

  Gracie stifled a gasp so as not to startle the child. “Why-ever not?” She stared at the offending uncle. Why would anyone deny a child such a wholesome pastime?

  He stiffened, and his face lost the happy light as quickly as if water had been thrown on a candlewick. “Come, Laura. Mr. and Mrs. Warren are probably wondering why we haven’t arrived yet. And we certainly don’t want to keep Miss Addison from her—activities.”

  He arched a brow and waited until Laura mounted. “Nice to meet you, ma’am”—he reached out and snagged the reins of her horse—“and I certainly hope you don’t kick the wrong man in the head while swinging from your next tree.”

  The horses trotted down the path at the fork, their riders’ backs to Gracie and the man’s gruff response still ringing in her ears. The nerve, talking to her like a silly child. She shivered as she rubbed the spot where his hand had clamped on her arm to keep her from falling after she’d landed in his lap, conflicted by the strange emotions that battled for dominance.

  Then she remembered Laura’s words—her uncle wouldn’t let her climb a tree—and irritation won out over the surprising melting sensation she’d experienced while held in his arms. He’d said they were headed to the Warren home. Word was out that Curt Warren had hired a new woodworking apprentice since his business had grown and his wife had given birth to twins. It appeared Will Montgomery might not be a cowpoke after all, although he didn’t look or act like any carpenter she’d ever met.

  All children needed to experience a full life outdoors, whether it be wading in a creek, riding a horse, catching a fish just for the joy of the battle, or climbing a tree. She’d have to find a way that Laura Montgomery wouldn’t miss out on her childhood, and hoped she didn’t irritate the child’s cranky uncle in the meantime.