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Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection

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by Amanda Barratt




  Prologue ©2016 by Erica Vetsch

  First Comes Love ©2016 by Gabrielle Meyer

  The Heart of Texas ©2016 by Lorna Seilstad

  The Truest Heart ©2016 by Amanda Barratt

  A Love Returned ©2016 by Keli Gwyn

  For Love or Money ©2016 by Susan Page Davis

  Mail-Order Mayhem ©2016 by Vickie McDonough

  Love at Last ©2016 by Erica Vetsch

  Epilogue ©2016 by Erica Vetsch

  Print ISBN 978-1-63409-965-3

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-967-7

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-966-0

  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.

  Printed in Canada.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  First Comes Love

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  The Heart of Texas

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  The Truest Heart

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  A Love Returned

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  For Love or Money

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Mail-Order Mayhem

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Love at Last

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  by Erica Vetsch

  New Year’s Day, 1874

  7 Heart Ranch, Hartville, Texas

  Quiet down, now.” George Washington Hart put his hands flat on the dining room table and levered himself upright. “I have something to say.”

  Deep voices stilled and masculine laughter died.

  Looking down the long expanse of walnut laid out in china, silver, and crystal, he surveyed five of his seven sons. Dark-haired, with either blue eyes or brown, depending on whether they took after his late wife or himself, intelligent, strong, capable, God-fearing. Ranging in age from thirty-four down to twenty-three, they were strapping examples of Texan manhood. Everything a man could ask for in his progeny.

  Except for one thing.

  Not a one of them had seen fit to marry and give him some grandchildren.

  But all that was going to change or his name wasn’t George Washington Hart. After all, he wasn’t getting any younger, and the doc over in San Antonio said the sand might be trickling through his hourglass faster than he thought.

  “You boys have made me proud, and that’s a fact. And like my father before me, I always planned to give my sons their inheritance while I was still around to watch them enjoy it.”

  Eyebrows rose, and the boys looked at one another and then back at him. GW turned to the portrait over the fireplace behind him. Victoria’s lovely brown eyes stared down at him, and his heart jerked, the way it always did when he thought of his bride, gone from them more than a decade now. “Your mother, God rest her soul, would agree with what I’m about to do.”

  “What’s that, Pa?” Hays, his youngest, asked from the far end of the table.

  Crockett shoved Hays with his elbow. “If you’ll keep your tater trap shut for a minute, he’ll tell us.”

  “My tater trap? You’ve been talking flat stick through the whole meal. My ears are worn out listening to you,” Hays shot back.

  “Knock it off, both of you.” Austin, the eldest, leaned forward from his seat at GW’s left hand and sent them his best glare. “Go ahead, Pa.”

  “Thank you. Hey, Perla,” GW called out into the hallway. “Bring our guest in.”

  The housekeeper led Harley P. Burton through the doors. The arrival of the lawyer had all the boys sitting up straighter, with the exception of Bowie, who scowled and leaned forward so his hair fell over his face. His shoulders hunched, and he put his elbows on the table, bringing his hands up and lacing his fingers. He pressed his lips against his thumbs and went still.

  GW shook his head over his second born’s insecurities. Wounded and captured at Gettysburg, Bowie had never gotten over the loss of his left eye or the black-powder burns that colored the left side of his neck and face. Always a taciturn kid, he’d become even more so over the years. Bowie was the one GW worried about the most once his announcement was made, though none of them would be particularly happy with his decision.

  “Harley.” GW motioned him over.

  “Happy New Year, GW.” The lawyer, rotund and jolly, shifted his satchel and held out his hand.

  “And to you. Did you bring them? Any trouble at the courthouse?”

  “No, it’s all done.” Harley looked around for a place to sit, and Austin hopped up.

  “Take my seat, sir.”

  Harley nodded and eased his bulk into the walnut high-backed chair. The letters SAH had been carved into the wood by a master craftsman.

  Stephen Austin Hart.

  Each of his sons, named after famous residents of the Great State of Texas, had their own monogrammed chair and place at the table. His wife’s idea when they finished building the house known as El Regalo, carrying on the tradition of naming Hart sons after famous Americans.

  Now her chair and Houston’s and Chisholm’s were empty. Houston had left home years ago to make his fortune in California, and Chisholm was a Texas Ranger, chasing down outlaws, preserving the peace, and returning to El Regalo and the 7 Heart whenever he could. The last time they had all been together had been before the War, which was another reason for GW’s decision. It was high ti
me his sons remembered their roots.

  Austin moved down the table and dropped into Houston’s chair. The lawyer fussed with his bag, digging out paperwork and seven sealed envelopes. “Here you are, GW.”

  Now that the moment was upon him, GW paused. This was going to be like throwing a stick of dynamite into a chicken coop. It might rain feathers for a long time. He strengthened his resolve. In the weeks since the doctor had given him the long face, he’d been planning this. If his sons wouldn’t get up off their pockets and see to their futures, then he would.

  Fanning the seven envelopes out, he cleared his throat. “What I’m holding here are the deeds to seven parcels of the 7 Heart Ranch. One for each of you.”

  Austin smiled and nodded to his brothers. Travis and Crockett shared a look, and Hays grinned. Bowie sat like a statue, hands fisted against his lips, waiting.

  “Now, before you all start turning handsprings, there’s a condition to you receiving your share.” GW tapped the envelopes into a pile. Harley smoothed his hand over his vest, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes. The lawyer had laughed loud and long when GW had proposed his condition, but now that the time had come to unveil it, he looked as nervous as GW felt.

  GW caught himself raising his hand toward his chest and stopped. None of the boys needed to know about the heart condition that prompted his decision, nor how little time he might have left.

  “I have decided to parcel out your inheritance, the land, the cattle, the assets of the ranch, to each of you equally, provided…” He paused for breath. “Provided each of you marries before the end of this calendar year and lives on his property.”

  Stunned silence greeted him as his words hung in the air.

  Then everything broke loose.

  “You can’t be serious.” Crockett shot up, skidding his heavy chair backward. “None of us is even courting anyone, unless you count Hays, who is courting pretty much every woman he sees.”

  “Forget it. I am not marrying to order.” Austin smacked his hand on the table. “I’ll get around to finding a wife when I get around to finding a wife, and not a minute before.”

  Travis stroked his chin, questions in his eyes that made GW skittish. His observant and thoughtful doctor son might just guess at GW’s motivation, and that was something he’d rather keep to himself. The last thing he wanted was his sons coddling him like some fragile baby. Or watching him like a ticking clock, waiting for the hands to reach midnight.

  Bowie said nothing, but he turned his head slightly to take in each of his brothers with his one good eye.

  “What about Houston? He isn’t even here. Chisholm, either,” Travis said. Travis and Houston had always been close, and GW knew they communicated frequently.

  “So write or send telegrams. Maybe this is what Houston needs to get him back here from California.” GW took his seat once more. There, the gauntlet had been thrown down. Now it was up to the boys to pick it up, if they had the guts.

  Hays plucked an apple out of the fruit bowl in the center of the table. He bit into it, grinning as he chewed. “I don’t know why you’re all in such a flap. A whole year to find a wife? How hard can it be?”

  First Comes Love

  by Gabrielle Meyer

  Dedication

  To my brothers and their beautiful brides.

  Chris & Sarah VanRisseghem

  Brent & Angie VanRisseghem

  Acknowledgments

  My heartfelt appreciation goes out to my agent Mary Keeley from Books & Such Literary Management who diligently champions my work; to the editors at Barbour Publishing who have fulfilled a lifelong dream; to my amazing writing friends Alena Tauriainen, Lindsay Harrel, Melissa Tagg, and Susan May Warren who encourage me to be the best writer I can be; to my kindred spirit Erica Vetsch for inviting me to participate in this incredible collection; to my priceless Street Team members who spread the word, write reviews, and plan special events; to my parents George & Cathy VanRisseghem, and my husband’s parents, Virgil & Carol Meyer, for their unwavering support and free babysitting services; to my sister Andrea Skoglund who is my sounding board for all things writing and life; and to our friends Jeremy & Jessica Janski, and Tony & Jamie Schmidt, for coming alongside our family in friendship and faith. A very special thank you is reserved for my husband, David, and our four children, Ellis, Maryn, Judah, and Asher. Thank you for being my biggest fans and my greatest joy. I’m grateful God placed this dream in my heart and is allowing me to see it come true.

  Chapter One

  January 2, 1874

  Hartville, Texas

  John Coffee Hays Hart grinned as he looked at the stack of WANTED posters he had just picked up from the Hartville Herald. They draped over his forearm, still warm from the press.

  “What do you think?” Hays held up a poster to show his friend, Gage O’Reilly. WANTED: A BRIDE FOR HAYS HART. Hays’s grin turned into a chuckle. “For once in my life, I’ll be the first to accomplish something before my brothers.”

  Gage looked over the poster, his blue eyes shaded by the rim of his Stetson. “Do you think it’ll work?”

  Hays wiggled his eyebrows. “We won’t know unless we try.”

  With Pa’s ultimatum still ringing in his ears, Hays no longer had the luxury of waiting to find the perfect mate. He either married by the end of this year or he lost his inheritance: a beautiful portion of land along the Sabinal River.

  He surveyed the bustling town of Hartville, named after his grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Hart. Dozens of false-front buildings extended from one end of the dusty street to the other, their gray, weathered siding a testament to the hot south-central Texas sun. “Might as well begin at the church and work our way back to the mercantile.”

  They started toward the end of Main Street, where the white clapboard church was the first building to greet people arriving from the south. Their spurs rang against the wooden boardwalk as they sauntered past friends and neighbors. Hays tipped his hat at Ruby and Julia Brown standing outside the telegraph office. “’Morning, ladies.”

  Color bloomed in Ruby’s cheeks as she batted her pretty eyes under the brim of her bonnet. “’Morning, Hays.”

  Hays didn’t take the time to stop, and the ladies’ whispered giggles followed him and Gage to the end of the boardwalk.

  “Why the rush to get these hung today?” Gage asked, glancing back at the Brown sisters. “You have a whole year to choose a wife.”

  “I plan to beat my brothers to the altar.” As the youngest of seven brothers, Hays had never been the first to accomplish anything. By the time he was twelve, all but one of his brothers had left the ranch to either fight in the Civil War or start a life outside the 7 Heart Ranch. He’d grown up under the shadow of his brothers’ successes. No matter what he did, it had already been done before. “For once, I’d like my pa to look at me with the same pride I see when he talks about Austin and Bowie’s heroism in the war, Houston’s success as a merchant in California, Travis’s medical career, Crockett’s work ethic, and Chisholm’s job as a Texas Ranger.” His voice became serious as he looked at the WANTED poster again. “I’m going to be the first to marry and make my pa proud.”

  He’d also prove to his family that he was no longer a child.

  Gage lifted his Stetson and ran his hand over his wiry blond hair. “I’ll do what I can to help.” As the best wrangler on the 7 Heart Ranch, Gage was a natural choice to help Hays lasso a wife.

  They arrived at the church and Hays handed the stack of posters to Gage. He pried four rusty tacks off a weather-stained advertisement from last summer and positioned the WANTED poster in the very center of the board. He set the tack in place, pounding it with the flat edge of a rock he picked up off the ground.

  He made quick work of the second tack and was on the third when the front door opened. A young lady stepped out of the church, her green eyes filled with curiosity as she peered around the edge of the door. “May I help you?”

  Hays stopped the rock mid-
strike, his attention no longer on the poster but on the beautiful stranger standing before him.

  Gage quickly doffed his hat. “We’re just tacking a poster onto the bulletin board.”

  She glanced at the board, as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, I didn’t realize there was a bulletin board. I thought someone was vandalizing the chur—” Her response was cut off as she bent forward and studied Hays’s poster.

  Hays backed up to give her a better view, his chest puffing out just a bit.

  She stood straight, incredulity arching her eyebrows. “Wanted: A Bride for Hays Hart?” She glanced from Gage to Hays. “Who is Hays Hart?”

  Hays leaned against the side of the building, his arms crossed. “I’d much rather know who you are,” he said, affecting a drawl. “I thought I knew everyone in town.”

  She lifted her chin a notch—barely enough for Hays to notice. “I just arrived after Christmas.” Her dark brown curls were gathered loosely at the back, and a white blouse was cinched with a red sash at her slender waist. A long black skirt came down to the tops of her polished boots. Everything about her was in its proper place—yet somehow she looked as out of place in Texas as a snowstorm in July. “I’m the new teacher. Miss Longley.” She sized up Hays with one quick glance. “I presume you’re Mr. Hays Hart?”

  He grinned, knowing his dimples would flash and hoping they would charm her like they had so many others. He lifted his hat and offered a grand bow. “The one and only.”

  She didn’t look impressed. “Are you George Washington Hart’s son?”

  “Right, again.” He dropped his hat onto his head and tried to coax a smile from her—but to no avail. She looked more and more vexed by the minute.

  “Does Mr. Hart condone this … this…” She indicated the poster with a wave of her slender white hand. “This advertisement?”

  Gage lowered his head and allowed the brim of his Stetson to cover his face.

  “As a matter of fact”—Hays tossed the rock into the air and caught it with a flourish—“he’s the one who suggested I look for a wife.”

  Her arms fell to her sides, a bit of bluster fading away. “I can hardly believe it.”

 

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