He raised his voice over the gurgling stream. “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Linford?”
“Perhaps a drink of water,” she replied, her voice strained.
He glanced toward the creek bed, and his chest grew heavy. Why was she traveling alone with Susannah’s letter? Did she need more than a drink of water? And what had become of the carefree girl he recalled from all those years ago?
He didn’t know Anna’s plans, but he doubted Cowboy Creek was her ultimate destination. Her family was well-to-do, and though the town was rapidly adding all the amenities of an Eastern city, they were still a long way from the civilized Philadelphia society teas she and her sister had attended.
Given her current difficulties, there’d be time enough to sort out the details later. She’d been attacked by outlaws—rendering his own problem pale in comparison. She deserved his sympathy—not the irritation of his self-pity.
“Back in a moment,” he said. “I’ll signal my return, Mrs. Linford.”
With a last look over his shoulder, he reluctantly strode toward his friend.
Will Canfield was a lanky man with an engaging charm and a wry wit. Since Russ’s arrival in Cowboy Creek, Will had been an ally and a mentor. He’d guided Russ through the rough and corrupt world of land grabbing and false deeds. The mayor had even encouraged him to send for a bride.
Will reined his horse near the wagon and surveyed the damage. “The driver, Mr. Ward, is bruised, but he’ll be all right. No bones were broken. What about the woman?”
“Her name is Mrs. Linford,” Russ interjected quickly—lest Will think they’d discovered Susannah. “She’s a widow. She needed a moment to collect herself.”
“What about you? That was quite a hit you took.”
“It’s nothing.” Russ lied, his head pounding. “Looks worse than it is.”
“Shouldn’t have happened. We took too long getting in place.”
When the three men discovered one of the brides had missed the train, they assumed the woman was Russ’s intended, and decided to escort her personally. Upon hearing the gunshots, they’d immediately realized the overturned railcars were the ideal place for an ambush. Russ had volunteered to distract the outlaws while Daniel and Will took cover near the creek and surrounded the men.
“I knew what I was agreeing to,” Russ said.
“Go back to town,” Will ordered. “Perhaps there’s been some news about your bride.”
“Miss Lowe isn’t coming.” Russ balked at leaving Anna this soon after her ordeal. She was a stranger in town, to everyone but him. She wasn’t feeling well, and she needed a friend. “Susannah met someone else. She sent a letter forward with Mrs. Linford.”
Shock flickered over Will’s face before he quickly masked the emotion. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the news I was expecting.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I talked you into sending for a bride,” Will said, his voice heavy. “I bear some of the responsibility.”
There it was: the compassion, the sympathy. It should have made Russ feel better. It didn’t. “What’s done is done.”
Will scratched his temple. “How does Mrs. Linford fit into all this? I thought perhaps they’d mistaken the name of the bride who missed the train. Linford and Lowe are close enough.”
“That’s the thing. There’s more.”
“More?” Will guffawed. “Save something for dinner, will you? A missing bride and a shoot-out before lunch is plenty.”
“I know Anna Linford,” Russ said.
A familiar pang squeezed his chest. He’d been jilted twice. Once by Susannah, and once by Anna’s sister, Charlotte.
And Anna had delivered both letters.
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488087370
Last Chance Wife
Copyright © 2018 by Janette Foreman
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