But he did care about that dark-haired girl. For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, but the draw was there nonetheless.
He’d thought about marriage. And he’d thought about what being in Whiteridge, a mining town barely getting its legs, meant for courting. Especially since he ran a saloon that took up nearly all his time and energy.
Annoying as Noah’s needling could be, he also had a point. If Wakefield were planning on staying in Whiteridge—which he was, since he’d dumped every cent he owned into the Outpost saloon—he’d need to look into unconventional ways of obtaining a wife. He was thirty-five, but lord, some days he felt twice that age.
Settling down would be nice. Having a gal to come home to… That was something he could look forward to, and the thought made him smile.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Noah said with a grin. “And I’m getting the paper now.”
With a flourish, he fetched paper and pen from the back office and settled back down onto his stool. “What should the letter say?”
“No.” Wakefield waggled his fingers. “Give me that. I’ll write the letter.”
“Oh, come now, Wakefield. Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch. Mine’s all fancy.”
Wakefield snorted. “Fine. Say… Dear Miss Sykes… My name is Wakefield Briggs, and I run a saloon in the Rocky Mountains in Wyoming Territory.” He paused, giving his next words some thought. He felt silly dictating a letter and hoped no one suddenly came into the saloon.
“That’s a good start,” Noah encouraged.
Wakefield ran his hand across his jaw. The beard he’d neglected to shave that morning prickled his palm. He didn’t much want to go into the details of his history in a letter—and not in front of Noah. He’d known the younger man for years, ever since their days working on the railroad, but not even Noah knew all of Wakefield’s secrets.
“She said no children, right?” Wakefield asked.
Noah glanced at the paper. “Right. No children.”
Wakefield nodded. That was good. He didn’t want children. Not because he didn’t like them. In fact, he loved having them around. He just didn’t want to have his own.
“Keep writing,” he instructed. “Say, I read that you have no children. I myself am looking for a wife and am not interested in any young ones. I have to be honest and tell you, life up here in the mountains isn’t a picnic. There are some hard days. I do have a nice, new house, though. It has two bedrooms, one for you to stay in...” He paused. “For as long as you like.”
Hopefully not too long, he thought but didn’t add that part.
“I’m sorry I have no photograph to send of myself. I can tell you, however, that I am thirty-five years old, healthy, and strong. Please write me back and let me know if the life of a saloon owner’s wife sounds palatable to you. If not, I understand… and I wish you well. Sincerely, Wakefield Briggs.”
Noah nodded in satisfaction. “It’s a good letter. I can ride into town and send it next week.”
“That’ll give me time to think about this. You know, in case I change my mind.” Wakefield’s gaze drifted to the window.
“You might change your mind?”
Wakefield shrugged, but he already knew the answer to that.
Continue on… Her Silent Burden
The story goes on…
I hope you have as much fun reading this book as I have writing about it. If your reading bug persists, simply choose any of the stories below to continue reading!
Book 1 - Her Winding Path
Book 2 - Her Western Heart
Book 3 - Her Wild Journey
Book 4 - Her Rocky Trail
Book 5 - Her Unexpected Destiny
Book 6 - Her Silent Burden
Book 7 - Her Fearless Love
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Her Unexpected Destiny_Seeing Ranch series Page 24