THEIR WAYWARD BRIDE
Book 2 - Bridgewater Menage Series
By Vanessa Vale
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Excerpt - © 2015 Vanessa Vale
I'd never been so cold in my life. My fingers had been gone from cold to painful and now
they were numb. My legs were warmer where they squeezed the horse's flanks.
I'd thrown my scarf over my head and tied it beneath my chin an hour ago, but it offered
no real shelter from the snow. It had only been light flurries when I left the stable, but now
the flakes were thick and came down so heavily I could see nothing in front of me.
The wind had picked up and it blew the snow sideways, the chill biting into my very marrow.
I was lost. Completely and absolutely lost, which meant I was going to die. Virginia City
had been my destination when I'd set off, the town only two hours on horseback from home,
but I'd been out what felt like so much longer and the town was nowhere in sight. Of course,
nothing was in sight. My eyelashes were coated with snow and it was getting harder and
harder to remain awake. Falling asleep would be bliss, especially with warm, thick blankets,
a roaring fire and hot tea. Dreaming as I was did nothing to change my predicament.
I was going to die. Foolishly.
What had I been expected to do? Stay at the house and let Father barter me off as part of a
business transaction? Mr. Palmer had dangled the sale of his land, along with several
thousand head of cattle, for me. Yes, I was the price. Perhaps not all of it, but the man had
made the financial amount reasonable enough for Father to be hooked. Like a fish with a
nice fat worm. Then, once he had my father eager, he'd given him the true price. His daughter.
I'd lived at a school in Denver since I was seven, shipped away and forgotten for fourteen years. Then, two months ago, a letter requested my return. I'd thought, after all that time, my father
had wanted me and I'd foolishly thought grasped onto that hope like the reins on a wild stallion. My illusions were shattered yesterday when Mr. Palmer had arrived to meet me and the men had
told me their plan.
It was then I realized my true value for Father. I wasn't his daughter, I was a prized mare
he'd sold to the highest bidder. He'd sent for me only to marry me off to Mr. Palmer and
finalize his deal. I was to be traded for a swath of land, cattle and water rights. I'd been
nothing to him all along, for I was the one who'd killed his wife.
She'd died birthing me so it had been my fault.
Marriage of convenience happened all the time in the Montana Territory.
A woman couldn't survive on her own without a man, that was a given.
But I hadn't even been in Simms, let alone Montana Territory, I'd been a ward of the school
in Colorado. Regardless, my life was not my own; I would not be a pawn in
Father's land negotiations. Especially when the price, for me at least, was so high.
My prospective groom was at least fifty. He had three grown children, two who lived in
Simms in marriages of their own, the third in Seattle. It might have been tolerable to be
the man's wife while being younger than his children, but the man was shorter than I,
had a belly that reminded me of a whiskey cask and had more hair on the back of his hands
than on his head. Worst of all, his teeth were yellow, the ones that he had left in his mouth,
from chewing tobacco. And...he smelled.
The man was repulsive to my feminine nature. If the man had been tall and handsome and
virile, making my heart race and my cheeks flush in his presence, that would have
been something else altogether. Father had said the deal was done, the contracts signed.
The only legal work left was the marriage license—and with tomorrow being Sunday, would be resolved at the morning church service.
So instead of marrying Mr. Palmer, I was going to die. I, Laurel Turner, chose to freeze to
death over marrying an unattractive, unappealing, overweight geriatric. My anger toward
the man, his lack of consideration for what I wanted, my father's as well, had me nudging
the horse in the flanks, to spur him into motion. Perhaps I could see a light, a house, a building,
anything in this frozen squall where I could seek shelter. Numbly, I wiped my hand over my
eyes in disbelief. Was that a light? A yellow glow, muted and soft, appeared briefly through
the snow, then disappeared.
Hope shot through me and I turned the horse in that direction.
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