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  Second Chance Bride

  When Daniel Gardner convinced the residents of his Kansas boomtown to advertise for mail-order brides, he never expected the woman he once loved to respond. But Leah Swann steps off the bride train...pregnant and widowed and in need of a husband. Drawn to protect his fragile childhood friend, Daniel proposes a marriage of convenience.

  Seeing her onetime best friend waiting to meet the bride train is a wonderful shock for Leah. After her first rocky marriage, a practical partnership with Daniel sounds perfect—as long as her heart doesn’t get involved. But when she starts to fall for her husband, will her plans of a fresh start be ruined...or is a real marriage to Daniel exactly what she needs?

  Cowboy Creek: Bringing mail-order brides, and new beginnings, to a Kansas boomtown.

  “You’re one of the prospective brides?”

  Leah wanted to grab on to Daniel, but held her desperation in check to simply nod. “Yes. Yes, I’m a widow.”

  His expression changed, confusion turning to understanding. “I see. I’m so sorry.”

  You have no idea. I never want you to know. “Thank you.”

  “What about your family? Your father?”

  “They’re gone, too.” Gone seemed an insufficient explanation for her grief, but of course he would understand the pain behind those words. It was an all too common story. The war had stolen so much from all of them. “Nothing is as we remember it.”

  His eyes clouded with sympathy and something more. Regret. Anger. And then incredulity. He did understand. He extended a hand as though he wanted to touch her to see for himself if she was real, but he drew it back, self-consciously. He shook his head. “And after all that, here we are.”

  * * *

  Cowboy Creek: Bringing mail-order brides, and new beginnings, to a Kansas boom town.

  Want Ad Wedding—Cheryl St.John, April 2016

  Special Delivery Baby—Sherri Shackelford, May 2016

  Bride by Arrangement—Karen Kirst, June 2016

  Cheryl St.John’s love for reading started as a child. She wrote her own stories, designed covers and stapled them into books. She credits many hours of creating scenarios for her paper dolls and Barbies as the start of her fascination with fictional characters. Cheryl loves hearing from readers. Visit her website at cherylstjohn.net or email her at [email protected].

  Books by Cheryl St.John

  Love Inspired Historical

  Cowboy Creek

  Want Ad Wedding

  Irish Brides

  The Wedding Journey

  The Preacher’s Wife

  To Be a Mother

  “Mountain Rose”

  Marrying the Preacher’s Daughter

  Colorado Courtship

  “Winter of Dreams”

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  CHERYL ST.JOHN

  Want Ad Wedding

  And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.

  —2 Corinthians 9:8

  The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.

  Your mercies never come to an end;

  they are new every morning,

  new every morning:

  great is Your faithfulness, O Lord,

  great is Your faithfulness!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from The Cowboy’s Baby Bond by Linda Ford

  Chapter One

  Kansas, April 1868

  A plaintive train whistle shrieked in the distance, scattering dozens of heath hens that pecked along the tracks. Daniel Gardner experienced a sharp pang of anxiety. A murmur of excitement passed through the crowd on the station platform and among those waiting along Railroad Street, the road separating the tracks from the town. Indicative of the population of Cowboy Creek, only a few females stood among the motley gathering of drovers, cattlemen and shop owners who eagerly awaited the arrival of the first bride train.

  Daniel and his friend Will had convinced the other town leaders that brides were the answer to the growth and survival of this boomtown they’d overseen from the ground up, but four women were a paltry drop in the bucket. His gaze moved from D.B. Burrows, owner and editor of The Herald, his angular face rapt with serious intent as he scribbled notes, over dozens of other bystanders, before finally landing on a sunburned young drover who sported a stiff new pair of dungarees, a red shirt and a silly crooked-toothed grin. Right about now Daniel was imagining the reactions of those much-anticipated prospective brides when they stepped off the train and got their first look at this throng of menfolk starved for the sight of a woman.

  “Well, this is it.” Beside him, Will Canfield squinted from beneath the brim of his brown felt bowler and leaned a little more heavily than usual on his expensive Italian-made walking stick. He wore a tailored suit coat and starched white shirt. Tall and lean, his goatee neatly trimmed as always, he was the picture of a gentleman with his sights set on a public office. Only Daniel noticed his friend was favoring his left leg, because only Daniel knew the walking stick was not purely for show. He was also relatively sure it did not conceal a derringer or a knife as was rumored about Cowboy Creek. They’d both had enough of killing during the war to last them a lifetime. Their town was populated with peace-loving citizens, eager for a new slice of life and the profits the Union Pacific Railroad and a steady stream of Texas longhorns were bringing. Women would heighten their plans to a whole new level.

  “This is it,” Daniel echoed. He wanted the past behind him. The town needed order, and these females would help bring it. Cowboy Creek was providing a new life and a fresh start for a good many people. The whistle screamed again. He checked his pocket watch and tucked it back inside his suit coat. “Right on time.” He looked to each side and held out both arms. “Step back! Step back and give the passengers room to get off the train!”

  His voice held enough authority that the eager men shuffled to the rear of the platform.

  The great black locomotive hissed as the brakes were applied, and it slowed on its approach, trundling past the railroad office east of the station and coming to a halt with the passenger cars only feet from the wooden platform. Clouds of steam expressed vapor into the air. From the exit closest to them, a uniformed conductor jumped down, lowered the stairs with a squeak of metal and stood waiting.

  Passengers were visible inside the car, making their way to the exit and out onto the small metal platform. Anticipation hummed around him. The first to appear was a fellow in a brown pinstripe suit and a derby, followed by a white-hair
ed gentleman with a huge mustache. A man and his young son emerged next. Passengers disembarked from the rear of the car, and a second passenger car spilled its riders, as well. The impatient townsmen crowded around the people exiting the train until the platform became a blur of shoulders and hats. Hoots and appreciative calls blended with laughter and good-natured competition.

  Daniel and Will exchanged a tense glance. Had they thought of everything?

  “We started with only four brides, Dan,” Will said. “Next time we’ll be better prepared for the rush of bachelors.”

  “Or not announce the brides’ arrival,” Daniel replied in a grim tone. He scanned the area until he spotted a stack of crates, then pushed his way through the milling crowd and climbed to the top. With two fingers held strategically between his lips, he let out an ear-piercing whistle. He whistled again. “May I have your attention?” he shouted.

  The crowd quieted and heads turned.

  “Gentlemen, please make a path and escort our brides forward!”

  A smattering of applause followed his request, and from the outer edge of the platform the crowd parted unevenly, allowing three figures in ruffles and flower-bedecked hats to make their way through the gathering to the stack of crates. Daniel jumped down beside Will and they stood on either side of the group of ladies.

  Daniel removed his hat and every cowboy doffed his own. “Welcome to Cowboy Creek.” He glanced aside. “We’re still missing someone.”

  “Mrs. Swann was with us a moment ago,” the petite young woman beside him said. “She must have become lost in the crowd somewhere.”

  Will took the next initiative. “Welcome. I’m Will Canfield. And this is my friend Daniel Gardner.”

  Daniel noted Will deliberately wasn’t leaning on his walking stick while attention focused on him.

  “Cowboy Creek is pleased you’re here,” Daniel told the new arrivals. “We have a special welcome planned for you once we have everyone accounted for and can move away from the station.”

  “I’m Pippa Neely.” The flamboyant little gal with ginger-gold hair had enormous hazel eyes and a pert smile. She wore a voluminous lavender skirt with gold braid designs down the front and fringe around the hem of the jacket. Atop her head bobbed a brown satin bow with a lavender paper rose. “I thought we’d never arrive! What a grueling journey!”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Neely,” Daniel greeted her. In her letter to the town council, Pippa had described herself as an actress. Then he turned politely to the lady standing next to her.

  “I’m Hannah Taggart,” the young woman explained. She wore her fawn-colored hair severely pulled away from her face. Her gray eyes moved uneasily from Daniel to the crowd of men and back. She wore a wine-colored dress with puffy fabric at the elbows and over the bustle, ruffles everywhere, but with no ornamentation save the row of buttons at her neck. She was a tall girl, not slender, and Daniel imagined her choice in clothing added to her size.

  “Miss Taggart,” he said. “You’re the Reverend Taggart’s daughter.”

  She smiled easily. “He was right behind us a moment ago.” She glanced into the crowd. “Disembarking was a challenge, but no doubt we all feel welcome.”

  “The men are a bit overzealous,” Daniel said by way of apology. “I’m sure you’ll forgive their excitement.”

  “Prudence Haywood, Mr. Gardner.” The short curvy woman introduced herself with a curt nod. She had auburn hair, hazel eyes and wore a cameo brooch on her collar.

  Daniel and Will acknowledged her introduction.

  “Here’s my father!” Hannah announced.

  The beaming fellow approached and removed his hat to shake the hands of both men. “Reverend Taggart,” Daniel said. “We’re so pleased you’re here.”

  “It’s Virgil,” the reverend said, his friendly manner a welcome answer for the unspoken question of what sort of preacher might be coming their way. He sported a narrow mustache and a wide smile that creased the corners of his eyes. “Hannah and I are excited to be here right when your town is on the verge of a population explosion.”

  “Can’t bring women to this county without preachers and doctors and schools,” Daniel pointed out. “We’ve been planning this for some time. We have a lot to show you.”

  “I look forward to hearing all about it.”

  “Papa, where is Mrs. Swann?”

  “She was by my side only a few minutes ago. These Kansas fellows seem quite friendly and eager to meet the ladies.” He stood on tiptoe to survey the way he’d come, but the crowd had closed back around the temporary opening. “There she is. I see her hat.”

  “Let the lady through!” Daniel called, standing as tall as he could manage and peering above the crowd. He was thinking that perhaps he would need to get back on the stack of crates when he spotted a blue feathered hat on a pale gold head of hair. “There she is. Mrs. Swann! Let her through.”

  The poor woman steadied her wisp of a hat atop her head with one white-gloved hand, and turned this way and that, speaking to men as she choreographed her way through the crowd. When she finally neared the open clearing where Daniel and Will stood with the other newcomers, she turned, disengaging herself from the attentions of an overeager cowboy, and nearly stumbled forward.

  Daniel caught her elbow to steady her.

  “Oh! Thank you. This is quite a reception!” She glanced up. Cornflower-blue eyes rimmed with dark lashes opened wide in surprise. The world stood still for a moment. The crowd noise faded into the void. “Daniel?”

  Daniel’s gut felt as though he’d been standing right on the tracks and stopped the locomotive with his body. He couldn’t catch his breath or find his voice. Sounds resumed and he filled his lungs with air. Finally his heart resumed its inadequate cadence, and he cleared his parched throat. “Leah Robinson?”

  She was as pretty as ever. Prettier maybe, her face having lost the roundness of girlhood and her skin and bone structure having smoothed into a gentle comeliness. Her winged brows were pale arches over those sparkling blue eyes, and her lips were full and pink. Her green-and-blue-plaid dress with black trim was the perfect foil for her pale perfection. It was ungentlemanly of him to notice the curves...the pale skin at her throat...yet he never had been able to look away.

  Mrs. Swann was Leah Robinson, one of his best friends before the war. Will had once shown him a wedding announcement from a Chicago newspaper, and all these years Daniel had pictured her just as she had been back then, full of youth and vitality, and married to the army officer she’d chosen. That had been a lifetime ago. So what was she doing traveling to Cowboy Creek with their mail-order brides?

  * * *

  The crowded platform was a blur of faces. Leah tasted dirt on her tongue and her eyes were so dry it hurt to blink. Cowboy Creek was as muddy as Chicago, and she’d thought that was bad. That city was systematically raising buildings, even entire blocks, above the level of the river, and it had been impossible to keep a clean pair of boots. It looked as if it would be the same here.

  Daniel. Seeing his familiar face anchored her in this sea of chaos, brought back memories of home and family, eased her fears and assured her she’d made the right choice coming here. She hadn’t seen Daniel in years, and yet here he was standing before her as tall and real as anything she’d ever laid eyes upon. It took every last ounce of her reserve not to throw herself into his arms and feel safe at last. Here was someone she could trust, someone who remembered her and shared her past. His tanned face and piercing green eyes revealed he was as shocked to see her as she was to discover him here under the Kansas sky.

  “Daniel,” she said again, feeling foolish, but so relieved that she finally felt some moisture in her eyes. “I am so glad to see you.”

  “What is this?” His tone seemed almost gruff. “You’re one of the prospective brides?”

  She
wanted to grab on to him, but held her desperation in check to simply nod. “Yes. Yes, I’m a widow.”

  His expression changed, confusion turning to understanding. “I see. I’m so sorry.”

  You have no idea. I never want you to know. “Thank you.”

  “What about your family? Your father?”

  “They’re gone, too.” Gone seemed an insufficient explanation for her grief, but of course he would understand the pain behind those words. It was an all too common story. The war had stolen so much from all of them. “Nothing is as we remember it.”

  His eyes clouded with sympathy and something more. Regret. Anger. And then incredulity. He did understand. He extended a hand as though he wanted to touch her to see for himself she was real, but he drew it back self-consciously. He shook his head. “And after all that, here we are...”

  “You survived, Daniel.” Her voice was too breathless, but she didn’t care. Life was precious.

  “Leah?”

  She turned as a dark-haired man with a cane approached from Daniel’s other side, amazement on his sculpted face. “Leah Robinson?”

  It took her stunned brain a moment to sort and make sense of what her eyes were revealing. Will Canfield? Both of them here in Kansas? How could this be? Growing up in Pennsylvania, the three of them had been inseparable. “It’s Swann,” she said. “My husband’s name was Swann.”

  “Your army officer?” Will asked.

  Her army officer indeed. I made a mistake back then. More than one mistake. I should have stayed in Pennsylvania. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. A lot of good men didn’t come home.” Will stated a fact. Yes, her father had been a good man. Thousands upon thousands of men had been killed. And many of those who had come back returned to burned-out farms and missing families. Her story was no different from plenty of others.

  She had nothing to say. That both Daniel and Will had survived was, in her eyes, a blessing at the hand of their merciful God. Awash with joy at seeing her old friends, her heart swelled with emotion. She’d been so alone and frightened. Thank You, thank You. She was so happy to see their beloved faces that she moved into Will’s embrace and hugged him. He stiffened, but she didn’t let go. She pressed her cheek against the fabric of his jacket and clung.