Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1)

by Julianne MacLean

  He gazed intently at her, his green eyes sparkling. “And I love you, too, Sarah Brigman. Let’s go home.”

  He took her by the hand, and led her into the station.

  Epilogue

  Feet crunching over a thin coating of morning snow, Briggs paced by an upturned barrel outside the little sod dugout. He rubbed his cold hands together and blew into them. He could see his breath.

  The labor had come early. What was taking so long?

  A painful scream cut through the early morning air. He stopped, chest heaving. Please God, let her be all right. I can’t lose her, not now.

  Another cry stabbed him in the heart. He approached the door. He had to go inside. He couldn’t wait like this. He couldn’t bear to hear Sarah in such pain.

  Just then, a different cry sounded. He sucked in a quick breath. A baby. It was a baby’s cry…

  Waiting there, listening, Briggs heard Martha’s gentle laughter. Hope and wonder moved through his swirling mind. The seconds ticked by like hours ase he stood there, frozen with excitement, waiting for Martha to come out. Was everything all right? Was Sarah well?

  He took an anxious step forward when the door finally swung open. “Congratulations,” Martha said, wiping her hands on a blood-stained cloth. “You have a son.”

  Briggs’s shoulders relaxed as a paternal glow warmed him. A son. He had a son. “What about Sarah?”

  Martha smiled and nodded. “She was very brave, and she wants to see you.”

  A lump filled his throat. He rushed by Martha, touching her on the arm to give thanks. Taking two steps at a time, he reached the dimly lit interior of their warm little house. Sarah lay on the bed with the babe in her arms, smiling. Her long black hair was damp around her face, her cheeks flushed. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

  “Hello,” she softly said.

  Briggs stood at the foot of the large bed he had built for them, just after the first snowfall. He stared in wonder at his wife and baby son. “Hello.”

  “Someone wants to meet you.”

  He walked around the bed, never taking his eyes off the two of them.

  The child, red-faced and gently wiggling, was wrapped in a small white quilt Martha had brought with her as a gift. Briggs raised a knee onto the bed to take a closer look.

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  Unable to speak, Briggs accepted the infant into his arms. The boy held up his tiny hand and grasped Brigg’s large thumb. What joy could be greater than this? Briggs wondered, staring blissfully down at that innocent face, noticing the full head of black hair. “He has your fine looks.”

  “Not entirely.”

  Briggs raised his questioning gaze to see his wife smiling at him.

  Carefully sitting up, she folded the quilt back from the child’s tiny head. “It seems that he has your ears.”

  Briggs shouted out in laughter. “I hadn’t thought you’d noticed my ears!”

  “Your hair is beautiful, my darling husband, but it doesn’t hide everything.”

  Sinking back into the pillow, Sarah giggled for a moment, then gestured for him to sit beside her. Briggs held the child in his arms and felt his eyes fill with tears. There would never be any doubt about it.

  The boy was a Brigman.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read MAIL ORDER PRAIRIE BRIDE, and I hope you enjoyed it. You may be interested to know that this book was originally published by Harlequin under the title PRAIRIE BRIDE in the year 2000, and it was my debut novel. For that reason, it will always hold a special place in my heart, because it was a long road to publication, which took six years and four unsuccessful manuscripts that were rejected everywhere before this one hit the mark. Needless to say, it was beyond thrilling when I learned that an editor wanted to publish PRAIRIE BRIDE. (Incidentally, one of those four “unsuccessful” manuscripts is now published as book 3 in this series: TAKEN BY THE COWBOY.)

  Because it was such a long time since the original publication of PRAIRIE BRIDE, I decided to revise the book, as I feel I’ve come a long way as a writer in the past 16 years. While the story remains completely intact with no changes to the plot, I believe the characters are now more realistic and believable, and the writing is cleaner and smoother. I’m much happier with this new edition, and I’m grateful to have had the chance to make this book all it could be.

  On a similar note, the next book in the Dodge City Brides Series was my second published novel with Harlequin. TEMPTING THE MARSHAL was originally published in 2001 under the title: THE MARSHAL AND MRS. O’MALLEY. I’ve polished that one up, too, and you can read on for an excerpt and more information about that book.

  Also, if you enjoy historical romances with plenty of adventure and strong alpha male heroes, you might like to try my Scottish Highlander romances. A complete booklist follows, and please visit my website at www.juliannemaclean.com for more information about those books.

  While you’re there, be sure to sign up for my email newsletter if you would like to be notified about future new releases and my monthly autographed book giveaway, which is available to my newsletter subscribers.

  And if you would like to know when an ebook edition from my backlist goes on sale for 99 cents (or is occasionally offered for free), please go to my author profile on BookBub and click the blue follow button. You’ll be sent an email whenever there’s a flash sale.

  Thank you again for reading MAIL ORDER PRAIRIE BRIDE, and have a great day!

  Julianne

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE DODGE CITY BRIDES SERIES

  Dodge City Brides: USA Today bestselling author Julianne MacLean delivers three breathtaking and passionate full-length novels featuring rugged, alpha-male heroes of the West, all sworn to protect the women they love…

  TEMPTING THE MARSHAL

  (Dodge City Brides Series – Book 2)

  ALL SHE WANTS IS VENGEANCE

  Disguised as a man, Josephine O’Malley strolls into a Dodge City mercantile with one thing on her mind: to even the score with the man who murdered her husband. What she doesn’t count on is Fletcher Collins—the handsome and irresistible new marshal in town—bursting through the doors of the mercantile with guns blazing…and a plan to stop her from pulling the trigger.

  HE ONLY WANTS TO PROTECT HER

  There’s a new marshal in town, but he’s fighting inner demons of his own. Fletcher Collins is a man who has known his share of heartache, and when he finds himself apprehending a gorgeous widow for murder, he begins to re-evaluate what it means to be a lawman. But if Fletcher is going to keep the widow out of prison—and figure out what’s really going on in Dodge—he’s going to have to learn how to follow his gut. Unfortunately his gut is telling him that Josephine O’Malley is exactly the kind of woman who could make him break all the rules…

  (Originally published under the title THE MARSHAL AND MRS. O’MALLEY in 2001)

  Purchase TEMPTING THE MARSHAL

  Add to Goodreads Shelf

  TAKEN BY THE COWBOY

  (Dodge City Brides Series – Book 3)

  HERO AND PROTECTOR

  Former bounty hunter, expert gunslinger, and the toughest sheriff Dodge City has ever known, Truman Wade is a real man from the tip of his black Stetson right down to his spurs and leather boots. He’s never met his match in a gunfight, but he’s never met a gorgeous, gutsy woman from the twenty-first century either…

  TORN BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

  Newly single after a rocky breakup with her self-absorbed fiancé, newspaper columnist Jessica Delaney crashes her car in a lightning storm and soon finds herself dodging bullets in the Wild West. Before the night is out, she’s tossed in jail for a murder she didn’t commit, and if things don’t seem complicated enough, the impossibly handsome sheriff in charge of her arrest has danger written all over him—and a sexy swagger to die for. Jessica knows she needs to get home, but when Sheriff Wade’s enticing touch sets her passions on fire, she
begins to wonder if fate has other plans for her, and soon she must choose between the life she longs for in the future…and the greatest love she’s ever known.

  Purchase TAKEN BY THE COWBOY

  Add to Goodreads Shelf

  Excerpt from

  TEMPTING THE MARSHAL

  Dodge City Brides Series – Book 2

  Copyright © 2012 by Julianne MacLean

  Chapter One

  Dodge City, Kansas, 1876

  Josephine O’Malley’s stomach clenched tight with panic as she peered through the night along the dusty street, watching for potential witnesses. She couldn’t let anyone recognize her in these clothes that had once belonged to her husband, God rest his soul. Especially after she pulled the trigger.

  Fighting to keep calm, she opened her long slicker and palmed the walnut handle of her Colt .45—the handle her husband had worn smooth over the years. Her boots tapped lightly over the aging planks along the boardwalk, while her spurs chinked a slow rhythm. Music from a tinny saloon piano across the street seemed muffled beneath the erratic pulse that drummed in her ears, but she continued on, soberly watching the mannish lines of her shadow as she passed under a hanging lantern.

  When she finally stopped outside Zeb Stone’s Dry Goods Store, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. Over the past six months, raw fear had compelled her to learn how to handle her late husband’s guns, preparing for this day, should it come. Hadn’t she pictured this moment over and over in her mind, wanted it, known it was necessary? Wasn’t it supposed to be filled with righteous determination?

  Instead, she looked up at the huge painted sign bearing Zeb’s name and felt only a sickening knot of intimidation and a horrible surge of dread. She’d never killed a man, never thought she could. It went against everything she ever believed in.

  But she had to do it now. Didn’t she? She couldn’t stand by and watch her son, Leo, choke to death in a noose like her husband. Leo had been poking around the finer details of his father’s murder lately, and Zeb, with his cold, black heart, was beginning to take notice.

  No, the time had come for Jo to face Zeb once and for all. The law had done nothing to help her. If she was going to protect Leo now, she had to help herself.

  Jo raised the red bandanna over her nose. As she reached for the brass doorknob, her hand trembled. She pulled it back and paused to fight the pulsing knot in her stomach, then pushed the door open. Bells clanged as she made her way quietly across the threshold.

  Zeb Stone stood behind the counter wearing a black waistcoat and starched white shirt. His black bowler hat rested on the counter. His head was down as he scrawled in a notebook.

  “We’re closed,” he said, his voice flat with disinterest. “Come back tomorrow.”

  Jo shakily drew one of her weapons and held it with both hands in front of her. Anxiety spurted through her, but this was not the time for doubt or hesitation. It would take a cool head to carry this through.

  She crossed the room in three swift strides, stopping at the glass counter and breathing fast with panic. She shoved the barrel of her gun against her enemy’s shiny forehead.

  Zeb’s fearless gaze rose to meet hers. The familiarity of those black eyes sent a hideous chill through her. “You’re out of luck,” he said, not recognizing her face behind the bandanna. “The money’s already gone to the bank.”

  “I didn’t come here for money,” Jo replied in a calm, low-pitched voice, but inside, her heart was beating a breakneck rhythm.

  “What do you want, then? Supplies? I’d best warn you, mister, nobody steals from me and gets away with it.”

  Jo stood motionless. So much of this did not seem real. It was as nightmarish as tossing that handful of earth on poor Edwyn’s casket.

  She swallowed hard as a wave of desperation washed through her. She had to see this through no matter how terrible it seemed. Finish it once and for all.

  She touched her thumb to the hammer of the gun and felt her insides lurch with dread. “Are you ready to die, Zeb Stone? Because I’m here to send you to hell, where you belong.”

  * * *

  Marshal Fletcher Collins led his horse to the Dodge House Hotel and flipped the soft leather reins around the hitching rail. He reached into his shirt pocket for half a carrot and stroked Prince’s warm muzzle. “Here you go, boy. I might be a while. I gotta make the right impression my first night on the job, if you know what I mean.”

  Fletcher stepped onto the boardwalk, nodding to the cowboys sitting on the hotel steps. “Howdy, boys. Mighty fine evening.”

  One man tipped his hat. “Welcome to Dodge, Marshal Collins. Headin’ down to the Long Branch for a drink?”

  “Not tonight. I’m on duty.”

  One of them called after him. “That never stopped Marshal Peavy from filling his holster!” The other two exploded with rowdy laughter.

  Fletcher stopped and turned around. The laughter quickly died. Straightening his black Stetson, he continued on his way.

  A buckboard wagon rumbled by, lifting a cloud of dust. When the clatter of hooves faded into the night, Fletcher listened with a keen ear to the hoots and hollers from the dance halls across the street, the boisterous banjo music, the laughter and foot stomping.

  He passed in front of Meuller’s Boot Shop and glanced through the dark window. Looked quiet. In fact, he probably shouldn’t be wasting his time over here in the business district. He should be enforcing the gun ordinance over in the Comique, where there was bound to be some fool packing iron.

  Fletcher paused on the boardwalk for a moment, then decided to finish this block. He walked by Zeb’s store and glanced through the window, but tensed when he saw Zeb—backed up against the wall with his hands in the air, facing an armed robber.

  Fletcher hugged the brick wall just outside the door and drew his Peacemaker. He checked the cylinder for bullets, then clicked it shut and peered inside again. The thief looked like he was just itchin’ to shoot.

  Fletcher took a deep breath. No do-si-do for him tonight. Dodge City was a trial by fire for the new marshal, and he sure didn’t aim to get burned.

  * * *

  With growing panic, Jo stared into Zeb’s dark eyes and rubbed the clammy pad of her index finger over the trigger. She clenched her teeth together. She had to do this.

  He paled visibly, perhaps realizing she meant business. “You won’t get away with this. I have friends who—”

  “I know what kind of friends you have. They’re gutter swine.” Jo pressed the barrel of the gun harder against his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, not so fearless now. It was a moment of terror he greatly deserved after all the pain he’d caused others.

  A film of perspiration appeared around his dark mustache, but his voice remained calm. “I’ll give you anything you want. Just don’t shoot.”

  Good Lord! She couldn’t do this! But what choice did she have?

  Zeb cautiously opened his eyes.

  Just then, the door flew open and slammed against the inside wall. The doorbells clanged and clattered to the floor.

  Without thinking, Jo drew her second weapon. She aimed it at the flash of movement in her peripheral vision, hearing the man’s commanding voice before she could focus on him. “Drop the gun! Now!”

  With a heavy weapon in each hand, Jo glanced back and forth from one opponent to the other. The stranger moved closer. She saw his black Stetson and his long brown coat open in front, but it was the barrel of his gun that held her attention—a small black hole pointing directly at her.

  “I said drop it!” he yelled.

  “You drop it, or I’ll kill him,” Jo replied, deepening her voice as best she could without it breaking.

  “Do that, kid, and you’ll be waiting in line for a coffin.”

  Perspiration dampened Jo’s forehead. Her bandanna began to slide down her nose. If it fell, she’d be done for. “This ain’t your fight, stranger.”

  “I own every fight in this town.” He opened his coa
t to reveal the steel badge pinned to his brown leather vest.

  Jo’s stomach did a sickening flip. Who in tarnation was this man? She’d been counting on Marshal Peavy taking his early evening nap in the jailhouse. She’d assumed this stranger was one of Zeb’s men.

  Feeling her fate grow more precarious by the minute, she gave the marshal a more mindful once-over, concentrating on his face this time to see what she was up against, what manner of man could aim a gun at an opponent who held two of them—one in each hand—and still be as heartily confident as the day was long.

  To her dismay, he was calm—too calm—and his bold self-assurance made her teeter alarmingly on her already unstable courage.

  He must have been watching her carefully, because he seemed to know that she was faltering. He took another slow step closer and spoke in a subtle Texas drawl that crumbled her grit to dust. “I’m the new marshal, kid, and my patience is dyin’ fast. Either drop both guns now, or prepare to meet your maker.”

  She glanced back at Zeb and saw a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek.

  The lawman took a few steps sideways toward the counter, his movements smooth and fluid. “I can see you don’t want to kill anyone. Now do the right thing and lower your weapons.”

  Jo’s mouth went completely dry at his gentle command. Her palms were wet and slipping on the handles of the guns. She didn’t want to die and she certainly couldn’t go to jail, not with Zeb alive to kill her son. But this man was right. Somehow he knew she wasn’t a killer, and his calm presence was stirring something inside her—something she didn’t want stirred.