Tracie Peterson Read Free Page B

supper the night before.
    “I brought you a peace offering,” Garrett said, coming up behind her. Daughtry looked up but said nothing. Garrett held out a newspaper. “I knew you’d want to catch up on what was happening around the world. I managed to latch onto this copy of the Denver Post. ”
    Daughtry took the newspaper from her father. He was trying so hard to make up for his behavior, and even though she had no intention of changing her mind about leaving, Daughtry couldn’t treat him badly.
    “Thank you, Daddy,” she said softly and glanced briefly at the headlines.
    “I really am sorry,” Garrett said.
    “I know,” Daughtry replied. You always are.
    Seeing that she wasn’t in a mood to talk, Garrett left Daughtry to finish her breakfast alone. Daughtry knew that he wanted her to laugh and think nothing more about the events of the previous night, but that wasn’t possible for her.
    Flipping through the pages of the paper, Daughtry came across an advertisement. It was like no other she’d ever seen. This was an advertisement for a wife. Quickly scanning the lines, Daughtry read:
    Wife wanted to share the dream of building a ranching empire. Looking for a hard-working woman who isn’t afraid to love and live with a man who will provide a home and remain forever yours in the eyes of God and man.
    It was signed N. Dawson, with an address in care of the post office in a small town in eastern New Mexico.
    How romantic, Daughtry thought as she reread the ad. The days of mail-order brides were a thing of the past but, from time to time, people did still seek a mate through that unconventional manner.
    Daughtry began to get an idea. A very serious idea about answering the advertisement. She folded the paper and stared at it for several minutes. It could work, she thought to herself. It could be everything she’d prayed for.
    Back at Piñon Canyon, Daughtry penned a response to the man she could only address as Mr. Dawson. She wondered as she wrote what his first name might be. She imagined Nicodemus or Nathaniel—maybe even Navin or Ned, although those names didn’t appeal to her sense of romance.
    She stared at the blank paper for several minutes, then began to pour out her thoughts.
    Dear Mr. Dawson,
    I am responding to your advertisement and would very much like to receive more information about the marriage and dream you propose. I have grown up on a ranch and thus have spent my entire life working at the same dream you seem to have. I would be happy to correspond with you regarding the matter. Please address your reply in care of the Bandelero, New Mexico, Post Office.
    Daughtry Lucas
    Almost as an afterthought, Daughtry picked up her pen again and added a postscript indicating that she had enclosed a picture of herself. Then, scouting through her desk drawer, she managed to find one that had been taken recently at a church picnic. She thought the photo did her justice.
    Slipping the letter and picture into an envelope, Daughtry addressed it and made plans for how she would get away the next morning to mail it. This was a great adventure, she thought to herself, and, for once, she looked forward to the next day with less dread.
    N. Dawson , she thought with a smile. Maybe, just maybe, he will be my answer to prayer.

Chapter 3
    D aughtry had nearly given up hearing anything from N. Dawson when, much to her surprise, she found a letter awaiting her at the post office. Giddy with excitement and grateful that she’d ridden in alone for the mail, Daughtry tore open the envelope.
    She wasn’t prepared for the many pieces of paper that accompanied the letter. Reviewing the items, Daughtry was shocked to find legal documentation for a marriage by proxy, a train ticket, and photograph. The picture was face down and Daughtry decided to leave it that way until after reading the letter. This way, she thought, I won’t be influenced by looks alone.
    Carefully opening the letter, Daughtry eagerly read the