Elizabeth Lane - The Widowed Bride

Ruby’s throat tightened. She struggled to reply, but no words would come.

“What is it? Are you afraid of me?”

She shook her head, finding her voice. “It’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s me. All those years of steeling myself against the things he did, the nights of lying there, wondering how he was going to use me next…”

She exhaled raggedly. “What if I’m broken, Ethan? What if I can’t—?”

His kiss lasted just long enough to block her words. “Hush,” he breathed.

The Widowed Bride

Harlequin ®Historical #1031—March 2011

The Horseman’s Bride

“The Gustavson family has won the hearts of Americana fans seeking a realistic love story. Lane wisely continues in this vein with the latest in her series, in which a fiery young woman meets her match in a mysterious drifter.”

—RT Book Reviews

The Borrowed Bride

“Lane’s pleasing love story brims over with tender touches.”

—RT Book Reviews

His Substitute Bride

“This tender and loving story, spinning off from Lane’s previous Western, showcases her talent for drawing three-dimensional characters and placing them in an exciting time and place.”

—RT Book Reviews

Wyoming Woman

“This credible, now-or-never romance moves with reckless speed through a highly engrossing and compact plot to the kind of happy ending we read romances to enjoy.”

—RT Book Reviews

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The Widowed Bride #1031

For my girls

Tanya, Teresa, Tiffany and Olivia

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

Epilogue

Dutchman’s Creek, Colorado

May 1920

The sooty cobweb stretched from the chandelier to the high ceiling, a good four feet out of reach. Lurking near its center was a spider—a monster with long, prickly legs and a body as big as a copper penny.

Ruby Denby Rumford glared up at her adversary. She’d always had a mortal dread of spiders, but she couldn’t let this one get the best of her. If she wanted to attract good tenants for her boardinghouse, the place would have to be spotless from floor to ceiling. The spider had to go.

Circling warily, she plotted her attack. She might be able to reach the web with the broom. But if she knocked the spider loose, it could end up anywhere—in her hair, in her face, down her blouse… Ruby shuddered as she weighed her options. The only way to make sure the creature didn’t land on her would be to capture it first.

A dusty Mason jar with a lid sat on the kitchen counter. That would do for a trap. But she’d need something to climb on. Ruby sighed as she surveyed the rickety cane chairs that had come with the old boardinghouse. Maybe she should have paid four-fifty for that stepladder at the hardware store. But buying the property had taken almost all her money. Until the rents started coming in, she would need to hoard every cent she had left.

Moving a chair to the center of the room, she tried standing on the seat; but the spider was still out of reach. She needed something more—that wooden crate in the corner might do. Placed on the chair, it would raise her a good eighteen inches.

With the crate in place, Ruby retrieved the jar and prepared for battle. She could do this, she lectured herself. A woman who’d fired three bullets into her raging, two-hundred-pound husband at point-blank range should have no trouble facing down a creature the size of her thumb.

Hollis Rumford had deserved to die. Even the jurors had agreed after they’d heard how Hollis had abused her and threatened worse to their two young daughters. At the urging of the best lawyer in the state, they’d acquitted Ruby on grounds of self-defense. But her wealthy friends—mostly Hollis’s friends—had been less forgiving. The Springfield, Missouri, social set had cut her off cold.

Exhausted and needing a change of scene, she’d fled to Europe with her little girls. A few months later she’d returned to discover that her late husband’s estate had been gobbled up by creditors, leaving her with little more than a pittance.

There was nothing to do but pull up stakes and make a new start.

Dutchman’s Creek had been a natural choice. Ruby’s brother Jace, her only close kin, had settled on a nearby ranch. He and his spirited young bride, Clara, were expecting their first baby. They’d urged Ruby to come to Colorado so their children could grow up together.

Ruby had welcomed the invitation. She’d seen the town on an earlier visit and been captivated by its peaceful mountain setting. She’d always been close to Jace, and Clara was like a sister to her. But she had no intention of becoming a burden to them. Whatever it took, she’d vowed, she would find a way to provide for herself and her children.

The vacant boarding house at the south end of Main Street had looked like an answer to her prayers. She and her daughters could live on the main floor and rent the four upstairs rooms for a steady income.

Only now was she beginning to realize how much she’d taken on.

She was glad she’d accepted Clara’s invitation to take the girls for the week. Mandy and Caro were having the time of their lives on the ranch, riding horses, climbing trees, bottle-feeding orphaned calves and gathering eggs in the chicken coop.

Meanwhile, their mother had a spider to dispose of.

Clutching the jar in one hand, she hitched up her narrow skirt and hoisted herself onto the edge of the chair. Her brother had offered to come and help her get the place in shape. Ruby had turned him down out of stubborn pride. Jace had already done enough for her, risking his life and freedom to protect her after Hollis’s death. It was time she learned to manage on her own.

Holding her breath, Ruby mounted the crate. Her knees quivered as she steadied her balance on the wooden slats. Seconds, that was all she’d need to do the job.