Rania Ropes a Rancher

by Linda K. Hubalek

  Jacob and Rania decided they would live at the Hamner ranch until Rania’s parents came home. Jacob would go back and forth to do chores at both places, and he and Rania could have privacy for the first weeks of their marriage.

  “Hello the House!” yelled Hilda, causing Jacob to jog out to meet them, and everyone else to scramble inside the house.

  “Welcome Ladies,” Jacob said as he helped Rania down from the wagon.

  “I’ll drive the team down to the barn and be back in a minute,” called Hilda as she shook the team’s reins and drove away.

  Jacob pulled Rania into his arms and gave her a kiss. “I gave you two gifts, the vase and the Lilac Water, and now I want to give you a third gift.”

  “Another one?”

  Jacob wrapped his arm around Rania’s waist, pulling her next to his side. “Well, I think this one will surprise you—at least I hope it will. Please close your eyes while we walk around the house and keep them shut until I say so.”

  Rania smiled and did as he asked. Two weeks ago she would have been too scared to walk into a situation blindly, but now she was a carefree woman again. “Okay, I’m ready for my surprise!”

  He guided her around to the back of the house, just at the right place so she could see everything at once. “Okay, open your eyes and tell me what you see, Rania.”

  “Oh, you’ve painted the wash house.”

  “What color?”

  “Red.”

  “I’d call it Falun Red. What else do you see?”

  Rania grinned at his color choice. “There are flowers around the wash house and the garden beside it.”

  “We’ll pretend the garden is a potato field. What else?”

  Rania was openly laughing now, scanning the backyard to see what else he wanted her to see.

  “There’s a tree sapling sitting in a bucket by the wash house. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m trying to create my version of the Swedish betrothal for you. When your family talked about weddings in Sweden at our first meal together, you talked about a betrothal being announced in church three Sundays in a row and about giving gifts to mark the event. So I decided to give you three gifts leading up to our marriage.

  “The first gift was to remind you of the flowers in Sweden. It was Ma’s idea to pick the flowers for the vase together so we could get to know each other better.

  “The second gift represents the lilacs that will bloom around our house each year for you. I admit I was hesitant to tell you why I picked the gift at the time, because I didn’t know where I stood with you then.” Jacob gave her a quick kiss. “But things went well after that, didn’t they?”

  “Oh yes they did,” Rania grinned in reply. “So, the tree is my third gift? Please tell me why.”

  “We don’t have birch trees here like you did in Sweden, but once on our walks you said the cottonwood leaves reminded you of the Swedish birch tree leaves. And Hilda mentioned a tree is often the third gift for the Swedish betrothal.”

  Jacob took Rania’s hand and kissed the back of it before continuing. “You once described what made a place feel like home to you. Since this ranch will always be your home, I wanted to make it special for you. I couldn’t quite see painting our house red, but I hope the wash house by the garden will be a pretty place for you to remember your Swedish roots. And we’ll plant the little tree wherever you want so you can watch it grow.”

  “I still wonder why you picked me for a wife, Jacob. Are you sure?”

  Jacob faced Rania, wrapped his arms around her waist and stared into her blue eyes. “The first time I saw you, you were riding drag behind cattle trailing down Ellsworth’s Main Street. You and Rose were covered in mud.”

  “I remember that. We took a slide down the riverbank earlier in the day and looked a mess.”

  “Yes, you were muddy head to toe, even a little mud on your braid. Remember when we met later in the day on the boardwalk?”

  “I looked back because I thought you were so handsome.”

  “And I fell off the boardwalk because I thought you were so pretty. And by watching you ride earlier, I knew you were good with horses and didn’t mind a little mud. I knew right then you had roped my heart and would be the perfect rancher’s wife, the perfect wife for me.”

  Jacob hugged Rania to his chest. “So welcome home, Rania,” Jacob whispered as he softly kissed Rania’s upturned lips.

  The End

  I hope you enjoyed reading this book in the Brides with Grit series. Please help other readers discover my books by recommending them to family and friends, either by word of mouth or writing a review. I’d really appreciate it.

  Many thanks from the Kansas prairie!

  Linda Hubalek

  Dear Readers:

  The series setting is based on the famous old cowtown of Ellsworth, Kansas during its cattle drive days. The town of Clear Creek though, is fictional, based on the many little towns that sprang up as the railroad was built across Kansas.

  This particular area is now the current Kanopolis State Park in central Kansas. Being local to where I live, I’ve hiked the park’s hiking trails where it’s easy to visualize what the area looked like in 1873—because it remains the same now—as then.

  Although not all of the Brides with Grit titles may be published as of this book’s debut, please visit your favorite vender to find out when they are available.

  You don’t have to, but I recommend reading the books in order to get full benefit of the story line.

  Rania Ropes a Rancher (Rania and Jacob)

  Millie Marries a Marshal (Millie and Adam)

  Hilda Hogties a Horseman (Hilda and Noah)

  Cora Captures a Cowboy (Cora and Dagmar)

  Sarah Snares a Soldier (Sarah and Marcus)

  Cate Corrals a Cattleman (Cate and Isaac)

  Darcie Desires a Drover (Darcie and Reuben)

  Tina Tracks a Trail Boss (Tina and Leif)

  Millie Marries a Marshal

  A Historical Western Romance

  Brides with Grit Series, Book 2

  Mail-order bride Millie Donovan was looking forward to meeting Sam Larson, a Kansas homesteader, who she is sure, from reading his heartfelt letters, will provide her with the love and safety she wants and needs. Millie arrives on the train, not realizing that her husband-to-be was killed in an accident, until Clear Creek’s town marshal informs her of the situation.

  Town Marshal Adam Wilerson never plans to marry due to his dangerous job. After reading letters found at his friend’s home following his untimely death which were sent from his friend’s mail-order bride, he can’t help thinking of the woman, and believes he may be in love with her himself. But instead of sending Millie on the train back to her former home, he finds himself welcoming her—and her two-year-old charge—into his house, and into his heart.

  When danger threatens, Millie faces it head–on to protect the people she loves, including the town marshal.

  Can Adam keep the peace in town—and his house—or will the man following Millie cause an uproar that will endanger them both, and ruin their chance of a life together?

  Enjoy reading the beginning of Millie Marshal a Marshal

  Chapter 1

  May 1872, Ellsworth, Kansas

  Town marshal Adam Wilerson had been standing on the train platform for ten minutes and still didn’t see a single lady who might be the woman he hoped to find. Adam’s hazel eyes scanned up and down the boardwalk of the Main Street again, but didn’t see any women he didn’t know. Clear Creek was small enough that a stranger always stood out. Because of his job, he made it a habit to know everyone—and their business—in town.

  Adam shifted through the four cardboard photographs of young women again. It was hard to compare a black and white photo with a real person, but he was accustomed to comparing wanted posters and criminal faces. None of these photos came close to featuring the few women who had arrived from any train this week.

  He shifted the ph
otos to one hand after another look down the boardwalk. Adam dug his watch out of his vest pocket, flicked the lid open to look at the time again. Finding it was only five minutes since the last time he checked; he closed and stuffed the watch back in his pocket.

  Adam’s mother was having a special early supper for his brother Jacob and fiancée Rania Hamner at the family ranch tonight, and Adam should have already been there. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat off his head to run his fingers through his light brown hair. It felt awfully short after visiting the barber today, but his ma insisted he get it cut before this Sunday’s wedding. Out of habit, he smoothed his trim mustache with his right thumb and forefinger.

  He’d met the train every day this week looking for a Miss Millie Donovan from Chicago, Illinois, but she had yet to arrive. He’d thought sure that she would be on today’s train since it was Friday.

  Adam wished he had some clue of who he was looking for, but could only guess because he really didn’t have any idea what his former neighbor’s fiancée looked like. After rancher Sam Larson died, the new occupants’ daughter, Rania Hamner, when cleaning the house, found letters from a Miss Donovan who, obviously from the letters, was Sam’s intended mail-order bride. Sam hadn’t shared so much as a hint with Adam or his brother, Jacob, that he was writing to someone, let alone that he had proposed. Supposedly she was on the train this week and Adam had been meeting it every day, but no luck yet meeting the elusive woman. Her last letter said “you’ll recognize me by my photograph” but there was no photo with the letters. Rania had earlier found four photographs when cleaning out a desk drawer but they weren’t marked with any names, so Adam didn’t know for certain whether this Millie Donovan was one of the four women pictured.

  Adam sighed and looked around again. When Miss Donovan finally arrived he would have the unfortunate duty to deliver the sad news of Sam’s death and help her arrange to return on the train to her former home. Because she and Sam hadn’t married, this woman had no claim on his ranch or his belongings.

  It was warm enough this May afternoon that Adam wished he could dispense with his own jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves, except it wouldn’t look proper to greet the young lady he was supposed to meet.

  His eyes kept returning to a crying little boy and his momma who stood a dozen feet away on the porch of the depot. She was having a time with the tired tyke who looked to be close to two years old by his walking, but he was so skinny it was hard to tell his age for certain. Adam didn’t know them, but they had been waiting by the depot as long as he had. He saw them get off the train when it unloaded and appeared to be waiting for someone, too. Two worn carpetbags lay nearby with a little boy’s coat lying on top of them. She hadn’t claimed a trunk or any more bags from the railroad agent when he unloaded the train; must be visiting someone for just a day or two.

  The kid was now wobbling circles around the mother, screaming like his shadow chased him. It was just the right pitch to make your eardrums bleed. With the tot’s carrot–orange hair, there was no way the child could disappear in a crowd even if he was quiet. Adam chuckled when he thought how the boy was going to be teased when he became school-aged because of his bright hair. But that was his lot in life and he’d soon learn to stand up for his heritage of hair.

  “Tate, Tate. Please stop and listen to me.” The woman’s distinct Irish lilt rose in frustration, drifting over to Adam. So far all he’d seen of the woman was the top of her little black hat, because she’d been looking down at the child the whole time. Her strawberry red hair, not quite as bright as the little boy’s, but very curly, was tightly pinned up on the back of her head. It was a big knot of hair so he bet it was very long and wavy when she let it down at night.

  Adam turned his back to the two, and nonchalantly stepped backward a couple of steps to hear this conversation better.

  “Dada was…” The train whistle blew announcing its pending departure so Adam didn’t hear what else the boy cried as he shrunk against his mother.

  The woman crouched down and held the boy to her side. “No, Tate. Please listen to me. Mr. Larson will be a good man. He’s not like…”

  The train whistle blew again as she was continuing her conversation with the boy, cutting off Adam’s hearing the conversation again.

  Adam whirled around when he heard the lady mention Mr. Larson. He had read the stack of letters that Sam had received from the woman, and there was no mention that she was a widow, let alone had a son.

  Adam took off his hat and held it on his chest before taking two steps forward and asking, “Miss Millie Donovan?”

  The woman’s green eyes turned up to meet his hazel ones to acknowledge his presence. She stood up straight and pasted a smile on her face, probably thinking she was meeting her intended. “Mr. Larson?”

  “NO, NO!” The little boy screamed at the top of his lungs while rushing forward to pummel Adam’s knees with his tiny fists.

  ***

  Millie froze when Tate attacked the legs of the tall man. He bent his wide shoulders down to clamp his hands on the unruly child and attempt to peel him off his legs. He had dropped his wide-brimmed hat in Tate’s mini attack, and Millie got a good look at his neatly trimmed light brown hair. The man wasn’t at all like Millie had pictured Sam to be, but it gave her heart a flutter to find out he was so tall and handsome.

  Now Tate—with tears trickling down his cheeks and his thumb in his pouty mouth—was being settled on the man’s hip and he turned his attention to her again. “Miss Donovan?”

  “Yes,” Millie breathed, relieved to finally meet her husband.

  “Miss Donovan, I’m sorry to…”

  “Star!” Tate screamed, interrupting the man as he punched the marshal badge on the front of the man’s shirt.

  Millie stared at the object then up at the man’s face. His face twitched as he gave her a look that said he wasn’t amused by the boy’s second attack on his person.

  He thrust the tot at arm’s length, but Millie stared at the badge instead of taking Tate. Oh Lord, have we run into more trouble than we ran away from? Sam never mentioned in his letters that he was the town marshal besides a rancher.

  “Miss Donovan?” Millie realized the lawman wanted her to take Tate, so she took the boy and hugged him to her shaking chest. “Ma’am, could we walk over to my office so we can talk?”

  “My bags…”

  “Your bags will be fine here with the depot agent for a minute. Please come with me.”

  Millie followed behind the determined man as he strolled down the dusty boardwalk in front of them. He reached the marshal’s office several seconds before she did because of his clipped pace, and already had the door open and waiting for her to walk in.

  “Please have a seat, and hold on to your boy so he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.”

  That remark made Millie’s spine stiffen and her red-haired courage flare. Sam mentioned he loved children, so Millie couldn’t believe his callous demeanor towards Tate. She gripped Tate around his waist and firmly set his little bottom on her lap as she sank into the wooden chair in front of the marshal’s desk. The lawman continued to stand behind the desk until she had Tate under control—for a few seconds.

  “Miss Donovan, I’m Marshal Adam Wilerson, and I regret to tell you that Sam Larson is dead.”

  When the marshal’s blunt words sunk in, Millie felt Tate’s body slide out of her arms as the room blacked out of her sight.

  ***

  Now what? Adam kneeled beside the woman on the floor as the crying boy ran circles around his desk. This is not how his usual day went. Adam would prefer the swinging fists of any drunken cowboy over this distressed mother and her uncontrollable child.

  End of sample from Millie Marries a Marshal. Please look for this ebook on your favorite retailer.

  Hilda Hogties a Horseman

  A Historical Western Romance

  Brides with Grit Series, Book 3

  Ranch woman Hilda Hamner spent her yout
h traveling with her Swedish immigrant family as they drove cattle from Texas up to Kansas cow towns in the 1870s. Hilda decided to get off the cattle trail and bought an abandoned homestead in Kansas with her horse race winnings. She plans on raising horses—and finding a husband that doesn’t mind her tall, lanky body that’s usually dressed in men’s clothing.

  Noah Wilerson planned to bring his intended bride from Illinois back to the Kansas homestead he started for them, but found out his fiancée had already married someone else when arriving at her father’s doorstep. After traveling back home, Noah finds a woman has taken over his claim, leaving him homeless and jobless.

  Hilda realizes she needs help to make her horse ranch successful, and decides that Noah is the right man—to promote from horseman to husband on her ranch—if he’ll treat her as a special woman, and not just a ranching partner.

  Noah wants his homestead back, and the woman who has transformed the simple soddie into a family home. Between family dramas, outlaw danger, and butting heads, which one will hogtie the other to get to the church altar first?

  Cora Captures a Cowboy

  A Historical Western Romance

  Brides with Grit Series: Book 4

  Bostonian Cora Elison arrives unannounced at her family’s ranch in Kansas, after her fiancé changed her status from bride to bridesmaid—at her own wedding. But after a few months, Cora thanks her lucky stars that he did because she has found a set of loyal friends, a way of life she relishes, and a cowboy she has become to love.

  Dagmar Hamner and his family emigrated from Sweden to work on a Texas ranch, working cattle and herding them north over the Chisholm Trail. After his family decides to settle permanently in Kansas in 1873, he is hired for the foreman’s job at the six thousand acre Bar E Ranch.

  All goes well for the Swedish cowboy until the absentee owner’s daughter arrives, wanting to learn how to become a rancher. Time makes them best friends, until a telegram arrives saying Cora’s parents are bringing an unknown groom to Kansas for her, insisting she be married when they arrive.