The Lawman’s Frontier Bride

  THE LAWMAN'S FRONTIER BRIDE

  (Christian Western Historical Romance)

  By

  MAYA STIRLING

  A Stranded Mail Order Bride Meets A Cowboy With Secrets

  Montana 1882

  Mail order bride, Gretchen Ryan is on her way to Montana to start a new life. When she is stranded on the way, she faces immediate dangers until a handsome and mysterious cowboy comes to her rescue. But this cowboy has secrets. And Gretchen must trust him if she is to find the happiness she seeks.

  Cowboy, Tate Campbell knows that the beautiful woman he's just met is in grave peril. The only solution is to take her to safety, even if it means facing the dangers of the frontier. But with dark secrets of his past pursuing them, and with Gretchen finding a way into his heart, Tate must ensure the beautiful mail order bride reaches her destination.

  The cowboy and the mail order bride will have to make a hazardous journey across the Montana territory.

  Will they survive the wilderness and can they find love at the end of the trail?

  The Lawman's Frontier Bride is a standalone full length novel. 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

  Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.

  Psalm 119:105

  CHAPTER ONE

  July, 1882

  Montana territory

  The train lurched to a halt with a squealing of metal wheels. Gretchen Ryan grasped the wooden edge of her compartment window and stopped herself from crashing into the empty seat opposite. Not for the first time during her long journey, she was thankful she had the compartment to herself.

  Glancing out the window, she saw the platform and wooden walls of the small station. Earlier, the conductor had told her about this stop to allow the train to take on water. Leaning her head out the open window, she inhaled the fresh air scented with the hint of nearby forest. It was mid-morning. Tiredness from the overnight journey tugged at her body. She decided she would enjoy a brief walk before the train resumed its journey.

  Taking her reticule, she stood and pushed open the door. She stepped out onto the platform and glanced in both directions. She saw a few other passengers had also decided to take the opportunity to stretch their legs.

  A nearby man, neatly attired in a dark suit, lifted his Derby hat and smiled at Gretchen. She lowered her head politely and smiled at him. She was glad the train carriages had no connecting passageway. Mingling with the other passengers might cause some awkward moments, she reflected. Coming from back East, she'd been brought up to believe that introductions should be made more formally.

  Sighing, she turned away from the man. She reminded herself where she was headed. Inspiration, Montana wasn't Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Out here was wilderness. Not for the first time, she reminded herself of the uncertain future she faced. But, she'd made her choice and there was no going back.

  As she walked slowly along the platform, she lifted her heart to her Lord, praying silently. Lord, you have guided me out to this frontier wilderness to start a new life as a married woman. Grant me the strength, O Lord, to enable me to face the trials that lie ahead.

  She reached the end of the platform and halted. The town, if it could be called that, consisted of one long street with a rough-looking boardwalk on each side. Looking closely, she saw a hotel, a saloon, what looked like a general store, and in the distance, a livery. A few men, dressed in rough clothes and wide-brimmed hats, made their way up the street. She saw a solitary rider mount his horse and ride away to the far end of the street. She'd seen other towns like it during her journey. Small places which relied on the railroad for their meager existence. She hoped her destination, the town of Inspiration, would be larger and offer more. It would have to, since she intended spending the rest of her life there.

  Gretchen regarded the street with curiosity. She'd seen tinted photos of such towns, but this was her first encounter with the real thing. Glancing back at the train, she saw the engineer working to connect the long pipe which led to the tall water tower by the side of the tracks. She guessed it would take a while for that operation to be completed.

  Lifting her skirts, she walked across the one hundred yards of dried muddy ground until she reached the boardwalk. She started to make her way along the boardwalk, gazing across to the other side of the street. Now that she was closer, she could see there were many other buildings, some stores which were closed, and others which looked like homes.

  A small, elderly, bearded man peered at her as she passed him. His eyes narrowed. Maybe he wasn't used to seeing women in town, she told herself. That thought made her briefly question the wisdom of satisfying her curiosity. Yet, there was something incredible about seeing this rough, frontier town up close. She felt a mixture of fascination and trepidation. But it had been a long journey, and she'd exhausted her limited store of books.

  She came to what looked like a mercantile store. Gazing inside, through the window, she saw a cornucopia of general goods stacked on tables and shelves. She saw a tall figure standing at the counter. The man had his back to Gretchen, but she could see that he possessed a powerful, broad-shouldered physique beneath the calfskin jacket and jeans. He said something which made the white-haired owner of the mercantile laugh loudly.

  She turned and paused, gazing toward the hotel a few doors away. Thinking she might be able to get coffee, she decided to make her way there. Just as she was about to step away from the mercantile, the door opened and the man she'd seen at the counter stepped out onto the boardwalk. He halted suddenly, his eyes widening as he gazed down at her.

  Gretchen froze, gasped quietly and clutched her reticule. The man was in his late twenties, she guessed. The thought which flashed into her mind was that he was startlingly handsome. The impression she'd gotten as she'd peered through the mercantile window was made even stronger now that he was standing inches away from her.

  His eyes were icy blue and framed in dark, broad brows. The man's gaze shimmered with obvious good humor.His stubble-covered jawline was broad and even; full lips, the corners of which creased with the hint of a smile; dark hair, emerging from beneath his Stetson, settled just above the collar of his plaid shirt.

  Was this what a cowboy looked like? The question drifted into her mind and almost made her laugh out loud. The man's gaze moved down the length of Gretchen's dark green gown. When his eyes met hers again, she thought there was a hint of approval in them, quickly followed by a more than casual interest. Gretchen felt her cheeks flush with heat.

  The man lifted his Stetson. "Ma'am," he murmured, his voice deep.

  Gretchen tightened her shoulders and frowned at him. "Sir," she said abruptly. She was seized by the impulse to walk away. But, for some reason, she didn't.

  The man glanced in the direction of the train. "Are you passing through, ma'am?"

  She thought the question was presumptuous. "I don't believe that is any of your concern, sir," she replied sharply.

  Expecting the man to take offense, she was startled when he did the last thing she would have expected. When he laughed, the sound echoed out across the street. Gretchen looked around her and was re
lieved to see that no-one had noticed the man's reaction.

  Leaning closer, the man grinned, his teeth white. "You're definitely not from around here," he stated.

  Gretchen frowned at the man. She considered ending their encounter with a barbed remark, but decided that putting distance between herself and him would be the wisest course of action. Giving him one last disapproving look, Gretchen stomped off, making her way straight for the hotel. She didn't give the impudent stranger the benefit of a backward glance.

  Reaching the doorway of the hotel, she paused and peered at the exterior. The crudely constructed doorway, long windows and broad first floor balcony gave the impression of hasty construction. Stepping into the foyer, she saw a gray-haired man aged around fifty dressed in white shirt and dark waistcoat emerge from behind the reception counter.

  "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked in a bright tone of voice. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. Maybe the hotel didn't get too many guests, Gretchen thought.

  Gazing around the wide foyer, Gretchen saw a half-opened door. "Is there anywhere I can take some coffee?"

  The man gestured toward the door. "Sure is, ma'am." Lifting a brow, he asked, "You just came in on the train, I take it."

  Gretchen nodded. "I did. And I'm in a hurry."

  "No problem ma'am," he replied. "I'll get you some coffee if you take a seat in there."

  Gretchen made her way into the dining room. It was empty so she took a seat at a table by the window. Gazing out through the window, she reflected on the rundown appearance of the town. In the years since the railroad had been constructed, the town had obviously become the kind of place where drifters passed through. If it wasn't for the railroad the place would be a ghost-town.

  The door opened and she turned expecting to see the man from the hotel reception. Instead she saw the rough-looking older man who'd peered at her earlier. The instant she set eyes on him she straightened in her chair and forced her attention back to the view through the window.

  She heard slow footsteps on the wooden floor. Hoping he'd taken a seat at another table, she turned. Dragging in a sharp breath she saw the man advancing toward her table. For a long moment her gaze locked upon the man. He stared steadily back at her.

  Alarm swept through her. Coming into town in order to satisfy her curiosity now seemed like a terrible idea. Moments later the man halted by the side of her table. She refused to look at him. A foul smell assaulted her nostrils, a mixture of alcohol and other things she preferred not to think about. Resolutely, she refused to look at him. She desperately hoped he would go away. However, she knew he wasn't about to make her wish come true.

  Just as she was considering leaving the hotel and racing back to the train, she heard the door to the dining room swing open. Turning her head, she saw the stranger who'd spoken to her outside the mercantile.

  "Silas. Don't go bothering that fine lady," the man's voice boomed.

  The elderly Silas turned to face the stranger. "Tate. What are you doing here?"

  "Just making sure you don't make a fool of yourself, Silas," the man called Tate replied.

  Silas shuffled on his heels and peered down at Gretchen. "I wasn't making you feel uncomfortable, was I ma'am?"

  Gretchen didn't know quite how to respond to that. Silas's demeanor had changed dramatically now that Tate was here. All she could was shake her head, turn to look out the window and hope that both men would leave her alone.

  "Be on your way, Silas," she heard Tate instruct the older man.

  Still refusing to turn her head, she listened as Tate escorted Silas out of the dining room. She heard the doors close. Leaning back in her chair, she glanced out the window and saw Silas make his way along the boardwalk. She frowned and twisted her head, looking for the stranger named Tate. There was no sign of him.

  The dining room door opened. "Tate. I didn't know you were here," she heard the receptionist say.

  Turning, she saw Tate standing at the door. The receptionist made his way to Gretchen's table. "Your coffee, ma'am. I hope Silas didn't make too much of a nuisance of himself. He was just trying to be friendly." He smiled as he set the cup and saucer down. "We don't get too many pretty lady visitors like yourself." Gretchen felt her cheeks flush upon hearing the compliment.

  Tate strode forward and halted at the receptionist's side. "You're right, Jed." Grinning down at Gretchen, Tate added. "We sure don't."

  Gretchen widened her eyes at Tate and prepared to snap back at him with a comment of her own, but he spoke before she had a chance.

  "Get me some coffee, Jed," Tate said. Then he gazed down at Gretchen. "You don't mind if I join you, ma'am. Do you?"

  She opened her mouth, ready to refuse him permission. However, she could only watch in stunned amazement as Tate slid out the chair opposite her and flopped down onto it. Resting his hand on the table, he peered across at her and tilted his head. If she wasn't mistaken he seemed to be enjoying her shocked reaction.

  She lifted her chin and glared at Tate. "I think I prefer to take my coffee alone, sir."

  But when he simply smiled back at her, she knew she wasn't going to get rid of the handsome cowboy that easily.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tate Campbell took his Stetson from his head and laid it at the end of the table. Once again he saw a shocked reaction on the woman's pretty features. Gazing across at the her, he guessed she was only a few years younger than his twenty-eight years. And she wasn't just beautiful. She possessed a rare loveliness he'd never seen in a woman before. She was completely out of place in a town like Refuge.

  "I wouldn't impose ma'am," Tate said. "Only. Your train will be leaving shortly and I'll never see you again." He punctuated that last remark with a grin.

  Her mouth dropped open and he saw the color of her face shift from delightfully pale to dangerously red. Lifting her cup she sipped the coffee, clearly hoping it would calm her unsteady nerves. Over the rim of the cup she peered at him with what he could only describe as a burning gaze.

  Tate noticed, with relish, the way her pinky finger extended slightly outwards as she held the cup. That simple gesture told him she came from a place where manners mattered. Maybe from back East, he told himself. This rail line had been bringing many women to the territory for the last few years.

  Tate waited for the woman to say something. However, as she placed the cup back down on the saucer, he saw her jaw tighten. Maybe she was going to just up and leave, after all, he told himself.

  He'd never get another chance, he told himself as he stuck out his hand. "Tate Campbell," he declared.

  The woman looked at Tate's hand as if it was something unpleasant. Arching a brow, she gazed at Tate. Her lower lip pouted slightly. She didn't say anything.

  Tate lowered his hand, feeling suddenly awkward. Back at the mercantile, he'd been taken aback by the startling beauty who'd fixed him with that unforgettable gaze. When he'd seen Silas making his way toward the hotel, Tate had known he'd have to intervene.

  She lifted the cup, still clearly reluctant to speak with him. The extended silence gave him a chance to regard her more carefully.

  Her blonde hair was tied neatly beneath her dark green bonnet. Even features, clear skin and a flash of intelligence in her green eyes hinted at refined upbringing. The pale green reticule placed at the corner of the table wasn't the sort of thing to be found in a frontier mercantile.

  Beautiful, Tate told himself. If only she knew how dangerous a place was Refuge, Montana. Then she might go racing back to the safety of the train as fast as her booted feet could carry her.

  Determined not to quit, Tate quirked a brow. "Might I ask where you're headed? I assume some place in Montana."

  To his surprise, she replied. "At least you got the state correct."

  Speaking in that slightly scolding tone of voice, Tate thought she sounded like a schoolteacher. "Do you teach, ma'am?" he asked.

  "What I do is none of your concern," she said with acid in her voice.

&n
bsp; Tate frowned. This wasn't going the way he'd planned. Time to try another approach, he told himself. Squinting at her, he frowned. "Let me guess your name. I'm good at doing that."

  "Really," she said, sounding weary and disbelieving.

  Glancing toward the slightly open reticule, Tate felt the glow of impending victory. The envelope which had slipped out from inside the reticule told him all he needed to know. "Gretchen?" he asked and slowly lifted a querying brow. "Gretchen Ryan?"

  Once again all the color drained from her face. She gasped. "How do you know that?" she demanded.

  Waving a casual and dismissive hand, he shrugged. "Call it a special talent." He lifted a brow. "I'm good at observing what others don't see."

  Dragging her gaze away from his, she glanced at the reticule. Observing the paper evidence of her name on full display, her eyes widened. Grabbing the reticule, she pushed the envelope back inside. Looking back at him, she shook her head. "That was sneaky," she told him.

  "Sometimes sneaky is called for, Gretchen," he declared.

  Gretchen smiled and then lifted her cup. Sipping her coffee, she once again peered at him across the rim. This time though he could tell that the ice had been broken. For now, at least.

  Tate leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table. "So. Where are you headed, Gretchen?" he asked.

  She tilted her head. In her eyes, he saw a fresh willingness to give her the answer he so desperately wanted.

  "Inspiration," she said.

  "That little town?" he replied and lifted a brow in surprise. He'd figured she might be heading for Billings or even Helena. Bigger towns. Guessing she was from back East, he was surprised her final destination would be a place like Inspiration.