The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity

by Erica Vetsch, Amanda Barratt, Andrea Boeshaar, Mona Hodgson, Melissa Jagears, Maureen Lang, Gabrielle Meyer, Jennifer Uhlarik, Renee Yancy

  “We should be on our way, dear.” The reverend cupped his wife’s elbow. “Will you excuse us, Miss Hermaning, while we collect those wildcats? We have much to do back at home.”

  “Of course. It was nice to make your acquaintances.”

  In the moments Sheriff Waite took to finish his conversation with Mr. Givens, Leah blinked back the surge of loneliness that now hit her as hard as it had the night Mother died almost three years ago.

  Redirecting her thoughts, Leah peered across the way at the pretty tree, a silent Presence seeming to guide her gaze. The cloudless sky was so blue and hung so low, she was tempted to reach out and touch its vastness before the azure heavens met the earth tones of the Badlands. Even the river appeared sandy-brown as it wound its way around town. When Aunt Estelle wrote that One Way had a waterfront, Leah naively compared it to the beach at Newport. Now, however, it was painfully obvious that she’d never again hear the comforting surf that put her to sleep every night back home.

  Sheriff Waite came toward her with strides as smooth and confident as his smile. She appreciated his kindness thus far.

  “Warren’ll keep an eye on your things for a while and deliver them over to the boardinghouse later.” Smile lines lingered around his eyes, showing Leah that his charming disposition wasn’t a mere act for her benefit. “I’ll give you a tour of the town as we walk there. And more good news—it ain’t a long tour or a far walk.”

  His good spirits gave her the courage to respond likewise, as a tour of the town wouldn’t take much more than a full minute. She silently blessed him for lightening her mood. “Tour the whole town at one time?”

  His easy laugh put her more at ease, and so did his sky-blue eyes as they flashed admiration for her retort. He pointed ahead, gazing at her with a roguish twinkle in his eye. “This here’s the land office. Luther Welton is the man to see if you’re looking for a good plot for ranching or homesteading.”

  “Hmm. Herding cattle, plowing fields—I’m not sure those jobs fit my talents.”

  “How about forging iron, then? We’re passing the blacksmith shop.”

  “Not sure that will work, either, Sheriff. I’m used to holding a pencil, not a lump hammer.”

  They walked by a building with a huge SALOON sign at the entry, and a wicked grin crossed his face. “Guess a Bible-totin’ preacher’s niece wouldn’t want to work there, either.”

  Leah had to laugh. “I wouldn’t mind working to shut it down.”

  He chuckled. “Well, then, you might be interested to know that the State of Montana pays five dollars for every wolf and coyote skin.” He pointed to the taxidermy shop. “You could make a good living trapping or shooting the varmints. Unless you prefer to keep them as trophies.”

  “This city girl has no idea how to shoot. Or trap. Perhaps I should stick to my chosen profession and just teach.”

  His eyes turned a shade darker, and the mood shifted somehow. “Well, Miss Hermaning, I’ll admit you seem like a woman who should be surrounded by children—lots of them.”

  What did he mean by that? His comment was innocent enough, but it seemed to have more behind it than a mere reference to her profession of teaching. The sheriff had left behind his bantering mood.

  If he wanted to discuss their professions, that was fine with Leah. “Are you the only lawman in the area?”

  “I’m the only sheriff in One Way—unless folks vote someone else into the position come next Tuesday.” He pointed up the dirt street. “My opponent is Luther Welton. Not only does he own the land office, but he has an invested interest in the saloon, too. He has ideas to build a hotel and gaming facility that sports dancing girls and other entertainment for the men in town.”

  Mr. Welton sounded like a man who would benefit from Uncle Robert’s preaching.

  “Sheriff’s office is coming up here to the left … and see that rambling building with the two-story porch down there a ways?”

  It wasn’t much to look at, but Leah nodded all the same.

  “That’s the widow Rigley’s boardinghouse.” They walked farther down the road, passing a well-kept yard surrounded by a white picket fence. “And this”—he stopped on the boardwalk and nodded toward the clapboard house with green trim in front of them—“is my sister Nellie’s house.”

  The lace-covered curtain fluttered in the front window. Moments later, a slim young woman hastened outside and to the street, carrying a baby on her hip. “Jesse, what a surprise!”

  He grinned and reached for the baby. “Miss Leah Hermaning, this here’s my sister, Mrs. Nellie Evans. And, of course, baby Henry.”

  Mrs. Evans stepped forward and gave Leah the warmest hug possible. “I couldn’t wait for you to get here. We don’t have a lot of women our age since the town’s so small. I know things aren’t like you expected, but I’m sure you’ll find happiness with—”

  “I think she expected a bigger town.” Sheriff Waite gave his sister a slight frown and an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  Mrs. Evans’s eyes widened for a moment. “Oh, right …” She cleared her throat. “Well, while it doesn’t look like much, it’s a fine town. Our pa helped to settle this parcel of Montana, and he and Jesse built One Way from the ground up.”

  The sheriff turned to Leah. “My sister is prone to exaggeration. Wasn’t just me and Pa alone. We had lots of help.”

  Leah looked from brother to sister and back again. “That’s quite an accomplishment, Sheriff.”

  “Not really. Like I said, Nellie stretches the truth.”

  “Oh, I do not, Jesse Waite.” Mrs. Evans glanced at Leah. “Pay him no mind—unless doing so lands you in jail.”

  Jail? The blood drained from her face. No! She’d never want to spend time behind bars again as long as she lived! “I’ll heed your warning, Mrs. Evans. I wouldn’t want to break the law.”

  Sheriff Waite didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He grinned at Henry, who tried to cut his teeth on the sheriff’s star.

  “I am most impressed that you’re a town founder, Sheriff.”

  “All I did was help build a few houses and barns.”

  “And stores, and the bank … Let’s see, what else?” Mrs. Evans ticked off each item on her fingers. “The livery, the mercantile …”

  “Old history.”

  “Maybe to you, Jesse, but half this town thinks you’re a hero.”

  The sheriff sighed, and Leah smiled at his chagrin.

  “Jesse’s got big plans for One Way,” Mrs. Evans continued. “He wants the railroad to come through so we’ll have an easier time getting supplies—and we’d get regular mail delivery, too. But best of all, Jesse wants to build a church and a school.”

  “I like his plans for One Way’s future more than Mr. Welton’s, that’s for sure.”

  “We hoped you’d feel that way. Right, Jesse?”

  He turned to Mrs. Evans and cleared his throat—rather loudly and with a slight frown.

  “I’ll say what my brother is too polite to tell you, Miss Hermaning, and that is that Luther Welton is a smooth-talking, crooked businessman. Even so, he claims to be a family man, and most folks here think that’s an important quality for One Way’s next sheriff.”

  “A family man?” She felt as though a marble had lodged in her throat.

  A new preacher in town.

  Aunt Estelle and Uncle Robert were traveling missionaries.

  Sheriff Jesse Waite needed to win an election.

  Oh, Lord, please let this apprehension merely be my imagination running away with me! Her aunt and uncle wouldn’t punish her by sentencing her to an arranged marriage and a life in One Way. Would they?

  “We’d best be on our way.” Sheriff Waite carefully placed Henry in Mrs. Evans’s outstretched arms. “Miss Hermaning hasn’t yet spoken to her aunt and uncle.”

  A knowing gleam entered Mrs. Evans’s eye. “Well, then, I mustn’t keep you.”

  “A pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise, Miss H
ermaning, but we’re sure to see lots more of each other. Right, Jess?”

  “I’m sure, small town and all.” He shifted his weight before kicking a stone off the boardwalk.

  Leah forced a smile, her nerves taut. Something was brewing. Its energy crackled in the summer air.

  The sheriff’s gaze met Leah’s. Smile lines vanished, and a soft light entered his eyes. In that moment Leah knew her fate had been decided.

  Chapter 3

  Jesse sneaked a good look at Miss Hermaning as he walked her toward the boardinghouse. While she wasn’t the kind of woman who made men swivel in their saddles for a second glance, she wasn’t unpleasant to the eye, the way Miss Estelle had described her. The words the reverend’s wife used were “plain” and “uncomely,” and at the time, Jesse assumed the older woman had been overly kind in describing her niece’s looks, as aunties were wont to do. So he’d expected hound-dog ugly, although even hounds were loveable.

  And Jesse should know: Sarge was one of those hounds.

  Besides, who wanted all the other men in town leering at his wife? Not Jesse, that was for sure.

  However, Miss Hermaning was lovely, in a pure yet plucky way, and Jesse felt a niggling of attraction to her. Gray eyes sparked with telltale emotion, and her smile seemed to make an already sunny day that much brighter. And she had to have figured out her uncle’s scheme, at least in part, when she met the preacher minutes ago. Yet she’d shaken off her confusion or disappointment—or both—and made their walk through town downright pleasurable. A lighthearted woman who could laugh at adversity would be a blessing to any lawman.

  Days ago, he’d asked God to show him if Reverend Hermaning’s idea had merit—and to show him straightaway if it did. Jesse now believed marrying Leah Hermaning was, indeed, God’s will, based on what he’d heard from the preacher about his niece and seen so far in Miss Hermaning.

  Could a man really know so quick that he wanted to marry a woman he’d just met?

  But the real question was whether Miss Hermaning would go along with her uncle’s plan. Jesse wouldn’t be able to bear it if she married him and was miserable the rest of her life.

  But God knew that, too.

  “Whoa, there, Jesse.” A man hailed him from across the street. “Hold up a minute.”

  He turned toward the familiar voice he’d come to dread. “Luther Welton.”

  The heavyset man, whom some folks called handsome, jogged from the saloon and stopped when he reached the boardwalk in front of Miss Hermaning. He carried a newspaper folded under his arm.

  “Now, Jesse, you ol’ scoundrel, what’d you go and do, get one of them mail-order brides so you could win this election?” Welton eyed Miss Hermaning in a way that made Jesse clench his fist. “Ain’t you gonna introduce me?”

  “First off, I am not a mail-order bride.” Miss Hermaning’s gray eyes were like sparking flints.

  Jesse gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Miss Leah Hermaning, please meet Luther Welton, owner of the land office and an investor in … other holdings about town.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” Miss Hermaning gave Welton a dismissive glance and gazed down the street.

  Welton grinned, revealing those large, white, even teeth of his that made him look like a wolf. And wouldn’t Jesse like to be the one to turn in that pelt! He’d even forego the five-dollar payment. “A pleasure, Miss … Hermaning, is it? Any relation to Reverend Hermaning?”

  “I’m his niece.”

  “Ah …” He snickered. “Well, don’t worry none. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Anger flashed in her eyes.

  Jesse guided Miss Hermaning beside him so she no longer faced Welton. “Nice to see you, Luther. Have yourself a fine rest of the afternoon.”

  “Likewise, Jesse.” He paused. “Miss Hermaning.”

  She didn’t reply but gazed in the direction of the river.

  Welton ambled back across the street to the saloon.

  “Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

  She looked up. “I’d appreciate it, Sheriff Waite.”

  Jesse gave a nod. Admirable. She’d just met the town’s most notorious resident, and she didn’t seem traumatized.

  Now, if she survived meeting Mrs. Rigley, all would be well … at least until she learned of her uncle’s plans to marry her off.

  “Where do you live, Sheriff?”

  “Near where the Powder and Yellowstone Rivers meet. You can see my homestead from here. It’s right next to that large cottonwood.” He pointed off toward the southeast.

  “It’s a pleasant-looking house. Did you build it?”

  “Sure did.” He couldn’t wait to show it off to her. If she became his wife, he’d want her to be happy in the house he’d built with his own hands.

  “I can see you’re a gifted carpenter. I’m quite impressed.”

  “Thank you.” Strange how the back of his neck heated up more from her kind words than from the afternoon sun.

  They reached the boardinghouse and Jesse ascended the porch stairs ahead of Miss Hermaning. He rapped on the front door before extending his hand to assist her up the last step.

  Within moments, Mrs. Rigley appeared. “Why, Jesse, what are you doing here?”

  He slid off his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m here to introduce Miss Leah Hermaning, the reverend and Miss Estelle’s niece. I believe you’ve been expecting her.”

  “So I have.” The older woman crossed her arms over her spindly chest. “Introduce her then.”

  Jesse hurled up a silent prayer that the landlady would behave. “Miss Hermaning, this is Mrs. Rigley, the proprietress of the boardinghouse and a longtime family friend.”

  Miss Hermaning stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My aunt wrote that you’re a devoted servant of the Lord.”

  “God knows, I try my best.” The older woman patted the side of her head as if securing any wayward gray hair. She gave Jesse a frown. “Well, don’t just stand there. Bring the girl inside.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He should have known Mrs. Rigley would be as cantankerous as ever and twice as amusing.

  “And wipe that silly grin off your face.”

  He tried, unsuccessfully.

  “I’ve been telling him to quit smiling since he was knee-high to a deer fly, for pity’s sake.” Mrs. Rigley gave her newest guest a once-over glance. “I never did see a man smile so much when there’s nothing out of the ordinary to smile about.”

  This time Jesse chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. He cast a glance at Miss Hermaning and saw her battling a grin of her own.

  Mrs. Rigley expelled an exasperated-sounding sigh. “Your room’s up this way, missy.” She pointed at the stairs. “Jesse, fetch her bags.”

  “Warren Givens’ll be along with them shortly.”

  “That no-good bum?”

  At Miss Hermaning’s curious stare, Jesse shrugged. But on the way upstairs, he caught her arm. “Don’t let Mrs. Rigley fool you,” he whispered close to her ear. “She’s a sweet old lady underneath that weathered exterior.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” she whispered back.

  Then she smiled real sweetlike—not a syrupy simper, but something warm and genuine.

  Jesse’s heartbeat quickened. And suddenly it felt awfully warm in this boardinghouse.

  “Well, here you go,” Mrs. Rigley said when they reached the end of the hallway. “It’s nothing fancy, mind you, ’cause I ain’t charging the reverend for your room and board.”

  Miss Hermaning took a step forward then halted in her tracks. “Mrs. Rigley, there’s no window. While this room is tidy, a person is liable to suffocate in here.”

  Jesse cast a look inside. Mrs. Rigley had to be joking. This was the space she’d always kept as a utility room. Now, emptied of buckets, mops, brooms, wood scraps, and other miscellaneous items, only a single bed fit inside it.

  “There’s no room for my trunk.”

  Mrs. R
igley sniffed. “Put it under the bed.”

  “Won’t work.” Jesse shook his head. “I moved that trunk, and I can tell you it’s too tall to fit under that bed.”

  Mrs. Rigley settled her hands on her narrow hips and scowled until her eyebrows looked like one long, furry caterpillar. “This is the room I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”

  Judging by Miss Hermaning’s horrified expression, she’d leave it. Her next words confirmed Jesse’s suspicions.

  “I believe I’ll go on outside and wait for my things to arrive.” She hurried past them and down the stairs.

  “You do that.” Mrs. Rigley had the nerve to appear insulted when she ought to be ashamed.

  Jesse couldn’t recall feeling more disappointed in a person. He pointed at the offensive room. “You can’t put a guest—the reverend’s own niece—in a closet.”

  “But she’s from a missionary family, and missionaries are supposed to stay humble.”

  Jesse held back the retort on the tip of his tongue, and that only because she was his elder, a lady, and his late mother’s friend. Instead, he made for the door, following Leah. He found her out front on a shaded part of the boardwalk.

  “I think I’ll wait to get settled until I speak with my aunt and uncle.” She kept her gaze averted. “Perhaps they might have different plans for me.”

  Indeed they did.

  “Miss Hermaning, please believe me when I say I had no idea Mrs. Rigley would behave so rudely. I know she’s tightfisted with the little money she has, but I wouldn’t have guessed she’d put you in a converted closet.”

  “A closet? Is that what that was?” Miss Hermaning blinked those big gray eyes of hers as if trying to hold back tears. “I’m grateful that Mrs. Rigley is willing to give me a place to live. But the truth is I’d rather sleep on one of the benches under the church tree.”

  “I think we can do better by you than that. We only arranged a room at the boardinghouse in case you—”

  “In case I … what?”

  “In case you … you objected to the other accommodations.” At his home. As his bride.

  But he had to allow the reverend to explain. After all, Miss Hermaning was his niece.