ROMANCE: Mail Order Bride: A Sheriff's Bride (A Clean Christian Inspirational Historical Western Romance) (New Adult Short Stories) Read Free Page A

be meeting up. It wouldn’t suit.
    Marriage. He knew all the girls in town and had no hankering for any of them. Maybe because he knew them. Liberty Bell was a prosperous town but he knew every man, woman and child who lived within its boundaries. There were woman out East thought, who’d be willing to come West to marry. The War that had been fought twenty years ago had robbed some of those towns of a generation of young men who would have been bridegrooms.  There might be a woman, maybe not the youngest or the prettiest, but honest and hardworking who might be willing to head West for a chance to marry and have a family and live free. He was no prize, he thought, but Josephine always said that he wasn’t half bad looking for a lawman. Some women, she said, her heavy-lidded eyes half closed as they shared a bottle that was closer to being empty than it had been a couple of hours before, liked that panther-lean look and green eyes and Indian-straight black hair. He didn’t know exactly if that was praise or not, but he wouldn’t lie to a woman. He’d own up to what he was: 30 years old and tough as leather from a life spent out of doors, with a past that he wasn’t proud of but that had given him skills that he’d turned to a living when he became sheriff. He owned his home, his own horse and saddle; he had money in the bank, and he had livestock: a milk cow, a goat, two pigs, chickens, a dog, a cat.
    Ruefully, Geritt Reilley grinned. Maybe she’d like a kitten.

Chapter Three
    The newspaper concealed in the folds of her skirt, Beatrice made her way with clandestine movements out of the house. Her mother had gone calling; Beatrice had claimed a headache. It wasn’t a lie; her mother had taken her to the dressmaker’s yesterday for her London wardrobe and there had been no way out of it.
    Stepping out of her shoes, Beatrice climbed her tree and settled into her usual perch. The newspaper was the favorite reading of several of the kitchen maids who giggled and dreamed of going West and marrying a cowboy. Busy with their work, Sallie and Dinah would never notice that the newspaper advertising for mail order brides was not in its usual position in the kitchen. They had no idea that Beatrice knew the layout of the kitchens as well as she knew this tree. Hennings would have guessed, but Hennings had the advantage of having known her since birth.
    She skimmed through the advertisements; one or two sounded promising, but nothing captured her fancy. If she were going to take fate in her hands and make her way across the continent, she wanted to be certain that she’d be eager for what awaited her.
    Kittens.
    The word caught her eye. She looked closer.
    My name is Gerrit Reilley. I am the sheriff of Liberty Bell, Texas. Our town has a church, a school, a general store, and other places of business. The stagecoach comes through twice a week.
    Where were the kittens?
    I am law-abiding and God-fearing. I can read and write. I bring in decent wages and can support a wife and family. I own my home.  I have a milking cow, a horse and saddle, two pigs, a goat, a dog, a cat, and kittens. If you could marry a man and be a wife to him, I would be as good a husband as I can, though I have never been married. But I am willing to try. I am 30 years old. I hope that isn’t too old. Please respond if you might consider becoming my wife.
    Liberty Bell, Texas. Beatrice looked up from the newspaper and thought of her fun-loving brother Simon. Liberty Bell was where he had died, but maybe it was a sign. Gerrit Reilley . . . Beatrice tried the name out. It sounded strong. He had kittens. That boded well, she thought. A heartless man would not advertise for a wife and include kittens in his proposal.
    She scrambled down from the tree and returned to the house. The maids were cleaning, the kitchen was empty. She replaced the newspaper and scurried upstairs. Sitting at her desk, she took ink and paper and began to write.
    Gerrit didn’t open