The Cowboy’s Frontier Courtship Read online

  THE COWBOY'S FRONTIER COURTSHIP

  Brides of Inspiration

  Book 12

  By

  MAYA STIRLING

  1882

  Urgently Required: A Wife and Mother

  Determined Montana homesteader, Kirsty MacAnliss never expected to see handsome cowboy Logan Kincaid again. But when he turns up with two young children in his care, Kirsty's temporary act of kindness instantly causes problems for herself and Logan. Reuniting with Logan might have compromised Kirsty's reputation in the nearby town of Inspiration. Even though its only gossip, marriage might be the only way to heal that reputation.

  Logan faces an uncertain future. Tragedy has made him father to two precious children. Giving up a life of drifting, Logan must settle down for good and become a family man. Now that he's back in Kirsty's life again, he figures the beautiful homesteader might be his perfect wife. And an ideal mother for his children. But Kirsty has a tenacious spirit and a strong determination to remain independent.

  Can Logan overcome the barriers between them and win Kirsty's heart?

  Logan's return has turned Kirsty's world upside down. Now that Logan and his wonderful children have brought so much joy into her life, can Kirsty finally make her dreams of family come true?

  If it is to succeed, this frontier courtship will need faith and hope and love.

  The Cowboy's Frontier Courtship is a standalone full length novel in the Brides of Inspiration series. It can be read on its own and as part of the series. It is a clean and wholesome historical Christian romance with inspirational themes of faith, family and love.

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  © 2019 Maya Stirling

  Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another.

  1 John 4:11

  CHAPTER ONE

  The MacAnliss homestead

  Near Inspiration, Montana

  Spring 1882

  Kirsty MacAnliss awoke with a start. Sitting bolt upright in her bed she strained her eyes to see in the darkness enveloping the cabin's small bedroom.

  Silence hung heavily in the air for a long moment. Tugging aside the curtain, Kirsty peered through the window. By the silvery light of the full moon she could see the empty yard and, across the fields, the distant outline of the forest. Kirsty listened intently. She felt her pulse pounding as she sat up in the bed.

  Heart thumping furiously, she pulled the covers aside and slid out of bed. Wrapping herself in a heavy gown, she opened the bedroom door and padded barefoot across the main living space of the log cabin. Glancing at the closed door next to her own room, Kirsty wished Abby was here tonight. Her cousin had gone into town and wouldn't be back until late in the morning at the earliest.

  Kirsty was alone, miles from town and out in the middle of the Montana wilderness. She felt a familiar dread overtake her. She wondered if she'd ever become accustomed to living alone on her homestead. Thankfully, for now, she had still had Abby.

  Standing still for a moment Kirsty wrapped her arms around herself and listened intently.

  No sound. Maybe she'd imagined it all, she told herself. Then, suddenly she heard more noises. Rolling wheels and horses hooves against hard earth. Who would be riding through the territory at this time of night? And why had they stopped at her homestead?

  Now the noises were louder, the unmistakable sound of a carriage and horse's hooves.

  Kirsty started to shiver. The room was dark, but she knew every inch of the living space. If she made her way to the left, she'd reach the cold, dark fireplace. Above it, hanging by two nails on the wooden wall above the mantel, was the rifle.

  She stepped quickly to the fireplace. The wooden floor was icy cold beneath her feet. Her toes sank into the crescent of soft earth which surrounded the front of the fireplace.

  Touching the tips of her fingers against the wall, she felt the cold bulk of the rifle. She lifted the heavy weapon. It almost slipped from her grasp but she managed to keep hold of it. Making her way past the long table in the middle of the room she came to the closed door. She hesitated a long moment, listening. All she could hear now was the thudding of her own heart.

  Kirsty lifted the wooden bar blocking the inside of the door, taking care not to make too much noise. She dragged in a breath, feeling the chill night air snap at her lungs. Grasping the metal door handle, she eased the door further open and paused for a moment. Now that the door was open, the distant sounds of cicadas were loud. The whispering of nearby forest branches drifted on the night wind.

  A blast of fresh air swept her gown around her legs. Easing her head out of the open door, she ran her gaze around the yard. Nothing.

  Kirsty frowned. She'd expected to see a carriage and horses out in the yard. Perhaps someone standing there, waiting for her. But there was no sign of anyone. The animals in their enclosures were silent, undisturbed.

  Kirsty stepped out onto the porch. She held the rifle straight, ready to fire if necessary. Her throat was tight and her mouth was dry. She had faced dangers before. Plenty of times. However, with no cousin to stand by her side this time, Kirsty felt inexplicably anxious. Years of homestead living had made her senses keen. She could feel trouble in the air.

  Then she heard it.

  The sound of a horse over by the side of the barn. Sighing quietly, Kirsty started to make her way over toward the barn. As she made her way toward it she saw something which made her blood chill. The barn door hung slightly open. She knew she'd closed it before going to bed.

  Looking down at the ground she saw the unmistakable lines of carriage tracks. Following them, she saw they led to one side of the barn. Making her way around the edge of the barn she saw a single horse and a buckboard. This buckboard did not belong to her. Now she knew for sure that strangers were on her property.

  Her fingers tightened around the rifle. If she had to resort to self-defense, she knew she would do so.

  Stepping carefully, Kirsty made her way toward the half open door of the barn. She didn't know who she'd find inside. But, whoever it was, they had no right to trespass. Maybe they were thieves. Or even worse. Perhaps they were preparing to enter the homestead cabin and rob her of all she possessed.

  Kirsty offered up a quiet prayer.

  Lord, give me the courage to deal with this. You have helped me so many times in the past. I ask for Your help now as I face the unknown. Grant me the wisdom and strength to do what's right. Lord, grant me protection.

  Instantly, as always after prayer, Kirsty felt her heart warm and her resolve strengthen.

  Kirsty's toes sank into the soft earth as she edged her away toward the gap in the barn door. Her fingers curled around the rifle's trigger. Then, astonishingly, she heard the most unlikely sound. The last thing she would have expected to hear on this dark night.

  The quiet giggling of a child's voice drifted out from inside the barn.

  Kirsty halted, frowning in the moonlit night.

  She heard another voice, low and masculine. "Wait here," the man said. "I'll be back in a minute." Kirsty gasped. Readying herself, gripping the rifle, she stepped back, aiming it at the door.

  A hand appeared, pushing carefully on the barn door. Kirsty gritted her teeth, ready for confrontation.

  Then a figu
re stepped out from the shadows. The man halted, frozen at the site of the rifle pointing straight at him. Simultaneously, Kirsty gasped as she stared at the features of the tall man who was now rooted to the spot. Her heart sank heavily in her chest and she gasped. Disbelief gripped her. It couldn't be!

  The man's dark brows rose and his jaw dropped as he ran his gaze down the length of Kirsty's petite gown-clad figure. This time it was his turn to gasp.

  Lifting his hands in a defensive gesture, he cried out. "Kirsty!"

  She groaned disbelievingly, staring at the last man she had ever expected to see standing at the door of her barn. "Logan?" she exclaimed.

  By the moonlight, she saw Logan's face turn instantly pale. Pointing the rifle downwards, she held it in one hand and took a step toward Logan Kincaid.

  "Logan. Is it really you?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" she demanded sharply.

  Logan glanced toward the interior of the barn and then stepped out beyond the open door. Almost as if he was barring her from seeing inside, she reflected. Glancing at the rifle, he said. "It is me, Kirsty." His brows furrowed. "I scared you," he said with genuine concern sounding in his voice.

  She felt heat rush to her cheeks. "What would you expect me to do? When I heard the sound of your buckboard I just assumed it meant trouble." She pointed toward the far corner of the barn. "I assume that is your buckboard."

  Logan nodded. "What can I say?" He lifted a brow. "Sorry?"

  "For scaring me half to death?" she retorted. She felt herself bristle and lifted her chin peering up at Logan's even features. She glanced down at the rifle. "I'm used to dealing with troublemakers."

  "Really," he said evenly, sounding unconvinced.

  She nodded sharply. "It happens all the time out here."

  "I don't doubt you can take care of yourself." Quirking a brow and smiling, Logan continued: "You always were one to take trouble head on."

  She frowned, recalling the way he'd teased her all those years ago. But, back then they'd both been younger. Those were the days before all her troubles had begun.

  "How long has it been?" Logan asked casually. He rolled his eyes thoughtfully. "Five years?"

  "Something like that," Kirsty replied.

  She tried not to think about everything which had happened during the years he'd been away.

  Logan reached out a hand toward the rifle. "Let me take that."

  Frowning at him, she took a step back and shook her head. "Nope."

  Logan smiled. For a brief moment she recognized that mischievous grin. Although Logan had changed, become more heavy-set and even world-weary, he still had that smile. The one which had turned so many female heads in town. The one which could bring instant delight to any woman's heart. But that had been before he had left. She wondered if he had really changed.

  She gripped the rifle. "I can look after this myself," she insisted holding the rifle horizontally across her middle.

  Once again Logan smiled, this time in temporary defeat. "Okay. After all, I am trespassing on your land." Tilting his head she asked, "Are you going to run us off your land?" As if sensing he'd said something he shouldn't have, Logan's brows furrowed.

  "Us?" Kirsty asked quietly. "Who else is here?"

  Logan ran fingers through his thick, dark hair. Drawing in a deep breath, his broad chest puffed out beneath the buckskin jacket. His wide shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of the jacket. "I'm not alone," he said and glanced toward the inside the barn.

  Recalling the voice of a child she'd heard earlier, Kirsty peered into Logan's dark brown eyes. "You're not?" she asked in a flat voice.

  Logan's full lips tightened and he shook his head. Now he looked worried, she told herself. Abruptly he turned and leaned his head inside the open door. "Jack. Alice. Come here, children," he said in a gentle voice.

  Two children? Kirsty felt her mouth open in astonishment.

  Logan extended his hand toward the unseen children. That thought shocked her momentarily. There were two! Kirsty had assumed the single voice she had heard had been that of a solitary child. But she'd been wrong.

  Logan pushed the barn door further open. It creaked on its hinges. Two tiny figures leaned their heads cautiously out, peering at Kirsty.

  A boy and a girl.

  Kirsty gasped involuntarily. Both could not have been older than five or six-years-old, she observed.

  "Kirsty. I'd like you to meet Jack and Alice," Logan said. Now there was a hint of pride in his voice, Kirsty told herself. Logan placed a hand across the shoulders of each of the children. "Children. This is an old friend of mine," Logan continued. "Say hello to Kirsty MacAnliss."

  Kirsty smiled at the children. She took a step forward and saw Alice's blue eyes widen. The little girl glanced worriedly at the rifle. Kirsty shifted it to her side trying to point it away from the children. "Don't mind that," she explained.

  But she could still see the worry on Alice's pretty features. Jack wore heavy jacket, woolen pants and brown boots. Alice wore a woolen coat over her pale blue gingham gown and black leather boots. In spite of the warmth of the clothing, Kirsty could see that both children were cold. Jack had the same color of eyes and the same even features as Alice. Kirsty figured they must be siblings. "Hello," Kirsty said to the children. Neither child responded to Kirsty. Instead, they lifted their gaze up to Logan, as if seeking permission.

  Kirsty peered at Logan and considered asking for an explanation. But she saw a curious expression on Logan's features. One that told her there was something he desperately did not want to say at this exact moment.

  A question hovered on Kirsty's lips, but she restrained herself. "We can't stand out here talking all night." She flicked her head in the direction of the cabin. "Come into the cabin." she stated. "Unless you're all planning to sleep in my barn".

  Instantly, Kirsty saw the eyes of the children widen with delight. "That sounds like a mighty tempting offer," Logan said. He glanced down at Jack and Alice. "What do you say?"

  The sight of the children's nodding heads brought a smile to Kirsty's face. Yet more questions drifted into her mind. She pushed them firmly away. Now wasn't the time. "I'll take that as a yes," she said to the children. Then, looking into Logan's eyes she added, "I can't offer much, but at least it's better than the barn. Or a buckboard."

  Logan smiled at Kirsty. His darkly handsome features had changed over the years, she reflected briefly. Gone was the boyish charm. The years away from Inspiration had transformed Logan into a man.

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment. She felt her heart quicken. Just like in the old days. "That sounds perfect, Kirsty," he said. "I'll get some of our things from the buckboard. But first, let's get these two into the warmth of that cabin of yours."

  As she started to make her way to the cabin, with Logan, Alice and Jack following behind her, Kirsty questions drifted into her mind.

  What was Logan Kincaid doing back in Inspiration? Why had he come here with two children? And even more importantly, why had Logan chosen to bring himself and the children to her homestead in the wilderness of the Montana frontier?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Logan led the children into the cabin, following Kirsty as she made her way to the table in the middle of the darkened room. Pausing at the open door, he watched Kirsty as she lit a candle, revealing the interior of the cabin. Logan gazed around at the simple and plain interior.

  Paneled walls; wooden floorboards covered with a few animal hides; a fireplace inside which he could still see remnants of burning embers. In a makeshift alcove he saw a stove and various kitchen utensils. There was a couch and two upholstered chairs in the far corner of the room.

  He saw signs of Kirsty's womanly touches in the arrangements of flowers and some colored drawings which had been pinned to the walls. Over to his left were two wooden doors. He figured that must the bedrooms.

  The overall feeling was of efficiency and compactness. He'd been in homestead cabins before. During his years on f
arms and ranches, working as a hand and general worker throughout the territory. The entire cabin couldn't have been more than thirty feet long by fifteen feet wide. But, there was one other feature he couldn't help but notice. Although it was a small building, and rough around the edges, it felt cozy.

  Like a home.

  That realization made something tug at his heart. Glancing down at the children, Logan reminded himself of his mission. The reason he'd decided to come back to Inspiration.

  Kirsty waved her hands in his direction and strode to the door. "Come inside. Shut the door."

  Logan closed the door behind him and led the children to the table. They sat down on two of the four chairs set around the table.

  "Let me get the fire going," Kirsty said, suddenly starting to fuss around the fireplace. She began stacking the fireplace from a small pile of wood.

  Logan went to her and kneeled down next to Kirsty. "I can do that."

  Kirsty's eyes met his. For a moment, she looked as if she was about to ask him something. She shook her head. "You go get those things you talked about from the buckboard."

  Recalling how much she'd always liked to give orders when they had been friends at the schoolhouse, Logan considered objecting. He saw a familiar steely expression in Kirsty's green eyes. Up close now, he took in her natural beauty. Even features; dark, curving brows; full lips and high cheekbones. Her blonde hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders.

  But, he noticed something else. She'd changed. Gone was the brightness of her younger years. It had been replaced with what he could only describe as a barely hidden weariness behind her beautiful eyes. She was doing everything she could to hide that tiredness. Maybe it was because he'd dragged her out of her bed in the middle of the night, he told himself. Knowing Kirsty as he did, he wasn't looking forward to explaining why he was here.