Cowboy Up by Rob Knight

Author:Rob Knight [Knight, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Male Order Bride By Eumenides "Angelina, settle down! I swear that girl can't stay still to save her life." Brand Keith watched his daughter with fondness, making no real attempt to stop her from running up and down the platform of the newly-built train station. Latimer was hardly a spur on the new railway; it was a wonder they weren't still dependent on the stage to connect to the rest of the country.

"Expect the new wife is going to have her hands full with that one." Joe Tucker, Brand's foreman, spit sideways off the edge of the platform. An old lady sitting nearby looked at him with a stare that would have dropped a rampaging steer, but Joe just tipped his hat and grinned. "You ain't had control of that child since she learned to outrun you."

Brand raised the crutch that supported him and balanced awkwardly for a moment on his one good leg. "Not too hard to outrun me, Joe. I'm like the tortoise in the old fable, though. I get there in the end."

It was one of those oven hot days where the air feels like it's about to melt, with not a hint of moisture anywhere so the slightest movement kicked up dust. Angelina was already filthy and they had only been out of the wagon for ten minutes or so. In the distance, a mournful wail heralded the approaching train.

"Sounds like that's them. Expect you're a mite nervous." Nervous. That was one way to put it. Brandon Keith had been a widower since Magdalena had died of the ague that had swept through the area back when Angelina was only two. That had been four years ago, and Brand was ashamed

to say he could barely remember what his wife had looked like. He could no longer see her snapping dark eyes and midnight hair in his mind; had to look on their daughter to revisit the woman he'd tried to love. Magdalena had been a good wife, it hadn't been her fault he'd been such an indifferent husband. Oh, he'd taken care of her—she'd never lacked for any material thing that was in his province to provide, and he'd genuinely come to care about her.

And she'd never reproached him for his lack of attention to her more intimate needs, though with six sisters all married, surely she knew a proper man would seek his wife's bed more than once every several months. It was a good thing she'd been loyal, hadn't gone running to her sisters with tales of his inadequacies, or they, more worldly-wise than Magdalena, might have figured out just how very wrong he was at heart.

He wondered what Pat would make of his lackluster interest in bed sport. Pat. Pat Forrester. Soon to be Pat Keith, if all went well. He'd picked her mostly by the name, and by the commonsensical tone of her letter. It was a down to earth sort of name, Pat. The kind of woman who'd get the job done and not shilly-shally around expecting what he couldn't nor wouldn't give.

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