A Mail Order Bride for the Sheriff: Mary Ann & Warren (Love by Mail 4)

by Christina Ward

  A Mail Order

  Bride

  for the

  Sheriff

  Love by Mail

  Copyright ©2015 Christina Ward

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2015 by Christina Ward

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All product names, trademarks, registered trademarks, service marks or registered service marks, mentioned throughout any part of the book belong to their respective owners. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover art by BookCoverMasterClass.com Copyright © 2015

  Disclaimer: Any person depicted on the cover is a model and is being used for illustrative purposes only.

  A Mail Order Bride

  for the Sheriff

  Mary Ann loves the ranch she grew up on and the horses she races with her sister, but will she ever find a husband who won’t ask her to change her ways? The long list of fancy suitors offering her ‘better’ life seems to indicate otherwise.

  Thankfully the Lord blessed her with an understanding father and after yet another misguided marriage proposal she decides to look for love in the West. An ad from a young sheriff brings her hope for a simple, honest life in a small town.

  But when she arrives, straight away her dreams are shattered, as her future husband constantly reminds her to be a ‘proper lady’. And on top of their personal issues the town seems to be plagued by bandits.

  Follow Mary Ann and Warren as they struggle to reconcile their expectations in this sweet Christian romance. Can they find a compromise through love and prayer and with the help of new found friends? Along the way you’ll meet some familiar faces from Angel Creek, as well as some new ones, in this clean Western romance.

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  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Contact

  Further Reading

  Chapter 1

  Oakville, Indiana, September 1872

  “I’m gonna beat you, Mary Ann!”

  Mary Ann Crosby pulled her horse to a stop and waited for her younger sister, Clarissa, to leap over the gushing stream that divided the grazing grounds in two.

  “Are you sure?” Mary Ann asked and threw a wink at the flushed, younger woman, and then spurred her mare forward and down the hill.

  Clarissa wasn’t one to be left behind thought. She caught up to Mary Ann quickly, and they rode neck and neck with the horses kicking up grass and dirt as they raced towards the large ranch at the bottom of the hill.

  After leaping over the low hedge Mary Ann pulled in her reins and grinned. She’d won again.

  Clarissa followed in a burst of laughter as she and her horse jumped over the low hedge too, nearly running over the three people strolling in the back garden.

  Their eldest sister, Elaine, gasped and nearly dropped her laced umbrella, fixing Mary Ann and Clarissa with a scowl.

  Their father furrowed his brows, but Mary Ann could see the smile hidden under the large, silver moustache that tried not to twitch upwards. She guessed the frown was more for the benefit of the well-dressed man beside him.

  “Laurence!” Mary Ann said, smiling on cue and turning her horse towards him.

  “Good afternoon, Mary Ann,” the young man said. He glared at the horses as if it was their fault Mary Ann hadn’t been receptive to his wooing.

  “Young Mr. Ashton here,” their father said, placing a thick hand on Laurence’s shoulder, “wanted to have a word with you, Mary Ann. He says it’s urgent.” He looked pointedly at Mary Ann.

  She didn’t like that look.

  “I’ll take care of the horses,” Clarissa said, taking the reins.

  Laurence extended a hand to help her, but he looked so awkward, arm bent at an odd angle. No doubt they’d both stumble face first into the ground if she took his hand. “It’s all right,” Mary Ann said, “I can manage.”

  She got off the horse and Elaine locked arms with her.

  “Aren’t you just so excited to see Laurence again, Mary Ann?” Elaine asked. “Think of all the balls and parties you two could go to as a couple!”

  “Well let’s not talk about that outside,” their father said with a laugh. He turned around and led them inside the large house.

  Mary Ann dragged her dusty boots across the rug before entering, and looked up to see Laurence’s eyebrows meeting. “Something wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly, then pursed his lips and followed their father inside.

  Mary Ann took off her hat and let loose her dark blonde curls. She flopped down onto a seat in their parlor and placed the hat on the small oak table beside her. Despite the hot weather, the breeze was cool.

  “We’ll be just outside,” Elaine said, winking at her. She left the door open, for which Mary Ann was glad. She knew that unless father dragged Elaine into the drawing room, she’d be sitting with her ear right by the door.

  “As you know, Mary Ann,” Laurence began before downing a large glass of the lemonade placed on a low table before them, “I’ve inherited a lot of money and properties at the death of my grand-uncle.”

  Of course. Mary Ann tried not to sigh in his presence. He was making an effort to look sincere after all.

  He stood slowly and leaned against an open window, the curtains billowing like clouds against his face. He looked dramatically into the horizon. “And now I have land out west and in the north. But life can be lonely without companionship.”

  He turned around and smiled at her. “Female companionship that is,” he added. As if she didn’t sense were all this was going.

  He sighed and knelt down in front of her. “I thought I’d have a hard time finding someone who’d love me for me, and not for my riches. But there you are.”

  “Here I am,” Mary Ann answered in a cold voice, pulling her hand from him and desperately searching for the right words to...

  “I want you to know that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen on this side of the coast.”

  Mary Ann struggled not to roll her eyes at that.

  “And I would like to ask for your hand in marriage,” he finished with a wave of his hand.

  She pursed her lips.

  “Of course, I already asked your father, but he seems to think I should ask you first.”

  If she were any less the woman her late mother had raised, Mary Ann would have long ago booted Laurence out of their house. The man had worked for a company in New York, but he had gambled away his money, and spent the rest on luxurious trips and clothes, pampering variou
s women, some of objectionable morals. He was only saved from destitution by his grand-uncle’s will, since the latter had no other surviving relative.

  Mary Ann stood up and dusted her skirt. How should she put it? “Laurence, I...”

  “Of course, you’d have to leave here and come with me to New York. It’s terribly boring here, and there’s dust everywhere.”

  “Laurence -”

  “You’ll also have to give up this horse-riding nonsense.” He turned to the door. “A proper lady would -”

  “Laurence.” Mary Ann grabbed his arm. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m afraid I can’t marry you.”

  The man was so shocked, his head whipped towards Mary Ann with a crack. “Wh-what?”

  “I don’t think you and I share the same kind of life-”

  “Well of course we don’t!” Laurence shrugged off her arm. “That’s why I’m offering you a chance to be my wife.”

  Mary Ann shook her head.

  Laurence squared his shoulders. “Well, maybe you’re just overwhelmed. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  He turned his back on her and left before she could protest. Mary Ann ran a hand down her curls and dropped down into the chair Laurence vacated. In a minute, her two sisters rushed inside, followed by their father.

  “He looked like he’d eaten something sour!” Clarissa said, giggling, and sat beside Mary Ann.

  Elaine sniffled into her handkerchief. “And he had such a large house, too.”

  “Well?” their father asked from the doorway.

  Mary Ann craned her neck to look at him and said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  “Or you could just stay here,” Clarissa said. “We’ll run horse races every day!”

  Mary Ann chuckled and patted her sister’s head.

  “The house is too full now. Our brothers are handling the ranch and their families are growing. You with the horses. Elaine with the parties and events.” She fixed her father with a look. “I want to find a place for myself. Somewhere.”

  Elaine looked at her father, who nodded. “Go, show your sister what you heard from Mrs. Diggory.”

  “Why? What did Mrs. Diggory say?” Mary Ann raised her brow.

  Elaine sighed and handed her sister the morning paper. “The other day during our crochet session, Tessie Diggory told us all about how her niece finally found a man to marry.”

  “Really? I thought she’d given up… We haven’t heard of any suitors.”

  “That’s the thing. It’s was all arranged through the papers.”

  Mary Ann flipped the pages, until Elaine tapped her arm. “Stop. There.”

  Several columns of short sentences and names looked up at them. “Are these... ads?” Mary Ann asked.

  Elaine nodded. “Yes. It’s a bit unorthodox, but the men are vetted by the agencies.”

  James Edds, 42, looking for a woman to raise my children...

  A farmer from Kansas seeks...

  Mary Ann gulped. It was a bit overwhelming, but at the same time comforting to see so many options. And if they were open minded enough to try an agency…

  Clarissa nudged her. “How ‘bout this – he’s a baker? All the cake you can eat.”

  “Or salty bread if the crops are bad,” Elaine muttered. “How ‘bout a doctor? Or a merchant?”

  “What your sister needs,” their father said, placing a hand on Elaine’s shoulder, “is a man who can handle her.”

  He pointed to an ad from Love in the West Agency.

  “How about someone more interesting?”

  Mary Ann looked up at her father in glee reading the words out loud. “A sheriff from Angel Creek, Montana.”

  * * *

  Angel Creek, Montana Territory, September 1872 (a few days ago)

  Warren glanced through the window of the sheriff’s station alarmed by the ruckus outside. Two middle aged men, neither of which names Warren could recall, shouted and gestured wildly just outside the bar.

  “Wadja say you yellow-bellied -!”

  “Yer a big, fat -!”

  But the insults weren’t the only thing flying. The shorter one landed a punch in the belly and the other man retaliated with a fist to his opponents head. The shorter one stumbled back grasping at the bannister of the nearby porch to catch himself. The other man did not wait though and soon they locked in a wrestle.

  Warren put on his hat and squared his shoulders as he pushed open the door of his office.

  “That’s enough.” His voice carried to the fighters and the throng of onlookers. “Fightin’ outside my station? In broad daylight?”

  He marched to the two drunkards, who scoffed when he approached.

  “This ain’t yer problem, sonny boy,” the bald one said.

  “Go back to yer old town!” the buck-toothed one exclaimed before spitting on the ground.

  “Well this is my town now,” Warren muttered. He touched the gun on his hip. “Which makes you two my problem. You’re gonna stop this commotion before I drag you by your boots to the baloose, you hear?”

  The two men laughed and turned back to each other. The onlookers who had gathered around the men in a circle looked on with fear and excitement written on their faces. Warren’s upper lip curled into a cocky grin, and, quick as lightning, he let loose two bullets on the ground beside the men.

  A hush fell on the crowd. The two troublemakers looked at him wide eyed.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  They both nodded, apparently just remembering their sheriff was a heeled gunslinger. The bald one cracked a nervous laugh. “N-no problem, Sheriff.”

  “Yeah,” the other one said, dusting off the bald one’s shirt. “Crystal clear, Sheriff.”

  “Good.” Warren looked over the two troublemakers, and before he could get a word out, the crowd had scampered back to their homes. Warren’s lips thinned into a pale line. He surveyed the dusty road as people went back to whatever they were doing beforehand. A few gave him an appraising glance, others avoided eye contact altogether. The town didn’t seem to be warming up to him much.

  He turned around and stepped into his station, empty save for an older man leaning against the desk.

  “That was some fine shootin’, Warren.” The older man grinned.

  Warren’s stomach churned. “Mornin’, Sheriff Miles.”

  “Ay, don’t call me that lad. You’re the sheriff now,” the older man said with a chuckle. “Call me Dan, like everybody else.”

  Warren took off his hat and placed it on the table. He gestured for Dan to take an empty chair, and they sat facing each other beside the desk. The man was looking perkier than the last time they met. Must be the medicine. Or just the fact that he wasn’t the sheriff anymore.

  “I dunno what I’m doing, Dan.” Warren ran a hand through his messy dark hair. “I mean... The people still think you’re their sheriff.”

  “That’s because you’re young. Young and new.” Dan winked at the Warren. “They wanna test you, see what you’re worth.”

  “But they don’t respect me.” Warren wanted to bite his tongue. Why’d he say that? Now he was sounding like a spoiled little... “I meant -”

  Dan patted Warren’s knee. “It takes time, my boy. Have patience.”

  Warren opened his mouth, but there was a knock on the door. A woman entered, her brown eyes examined the room quickly.

  “Hello, Mr. Miles. Good morning, Sheriff Turner.”

  There was something on the left side of her face, but before Warren could see clearly, she stepped into the shadow turning her right side to him. She approached Dan and handed him a small bottle. “Mr. Miles, you forgot to take your medicine again. And you’d already gone before I came by your house!”

  Warren was taken aback. He didn’t know Dan had a daughter!

  Dan chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sarah. I’m getting forgetful in my old age.” He toasted the small bottle in the air and said to Warren, “Here’s to memories of youth and gunshot wounds
.”

  He drank the medicine, then shook his head like a sheepdog, and handed Sarah the bottle. The woman squeezed the older man’s shoulder and said, “Don’t forget tomorrow.”

  Dan nodded and patted her hand. “I won’t, child.”

  After Sarah left, Dan leaned closer to Warren. “Acts like a daughter to me, that one. Sarah saved my life. She patched me up pretty good after we captured some bandits a few months ago. Before you came here.”

  Warren scratched his head and sighed. “Seems like you had quite the career. How can I ever live up to that? How can I earn the people’s respect?”

  Dan leaned back in his chair. “Well, there’s something you can do to impress the folk here. Or at least it would be a good start.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Find a proper wife. Someone from a respectable family. A lady.”

  Warren gaped at him, then looked around to make sure that no one else was around. He hurriedly closed the door before getting back to his seat. He didn’t want anyone to think he was desperate. “Where am I gonna find me one o’ those? Not that Angel Creek doesn’t have them, I’m sure -”

  Dan cleared his throat and said, “How’d you think Sarah got here?”

  Warren raised a brow. “By coach?”

  Dan heaved a deep sigh. “You really should get to know your town, lad. Anyway, Sarah found her husband, Hank Welton, through the papers.”

  “What, she advertised for a groom?”

  “Hank advertised for a bride.” Dan wriggled his brows. “With help from Mercy Beckett’s agency.”

  Mercy Beckett... He remembered seeing a petite, joyful woman, carrying a baby, while her husband played tag with their little girl. A light went off in his head. The Love in the West Agency for mail order brides.

  “Oh right.” Warren shifted in his chair. “You really think it’ll help me? I mean help my reputation?”

  “Your wife can mingle with the townsfolk. And she’ll be good company. Lord knows I’d be lost without Jane.”

  Dan stood up, holding on to the desk as his knees straightened.