Janet Dean - The Bride Wore Spurs

The Cowgirl Takes a Husband!

To keep the Texas ranch she loves, Hannah Parrish will wed a man she doesn’t. Cowpokes won’t take orders from a young, single female. But while her exasperating neighbor Matt Walker jokes about her being a mere debutante, Hannah is a rancher to the core. Just like Matt.

“Will you marry me?” It’s a question widowed Matt never intended to ask again. Now spirited Hannah is asking him for a marriage of convenience! Yet whether she’s birthing a calf or caring for a young orphan, the tomboy next door is becoming the partner Matt always hoped for. Now he must convince her the greatest strength comes in trusting your heart to another—and your future to God....

“Are you having second thoughts about our marriage?”

The eyes Hannah lifted to his might not look like those of an excited bride, but they were steely with determination. “Marriage is what I want. Are you changing your mind?”

“No, ma’am.” Matt grinned. “I’m corralled and ready for branding. Thing is, which brand will I wear?”

“The Lazy P, what else.”

“And you’re just the woman to get the job done.”

Hannah grinned back at him. “Never doubt that, cowboy.”

Good to see her feisty side back. A man didn’t hanker to be led around by his nose, but if pretending Hannah was boss would put a smile on her face, that’s what he’d do.

But he couldn’t help wondering at what point a marriage based on pretense would blow up in his face?

JANET DEAN

grew up in a family that cherished the past and had a strong creative streak. Her father recounted wonderful stories, like his father before him. The tales they told instilled in Janet a love of history and the desire to write. She married her college sweetheart and taught first grade before leaving to rear two daughters. As her daughters grew, they watched Little House on the Prairie, reawakening Janet’s love of American history and the stories of strong men and women of faith who built this country. Janet eagerly turned to inspirational historical romance, and she loves spinning stories for Love Inspired Historical. When she isn’t writing, Janet stamps greeting cards, plays golf and bridge, and is never without a book to read. The Deans love to travel and to spend time with family.

The Bride Wore Spurs

Janet Dean

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

My grace is sufficient for thee:

for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

—2 Corinthians 12:9

To my friends and family who believed I’d achieve my dream. Your support means everything, then and now. Thank you.

Acknowledgments

A huge, heartfelt thank-you to Mary Connealy and Becke Turner for their invaluable help with researching this story. Their expertise enabled this greenhorn to ride into the Old West largely unscathed. Any errors are my own.

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

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Bliss, Texas

Spring, 1888

The wrong man showed up to collect Hannah Parrish at the train station. And he was late.

Matt Walker.

Hannah bit back a groan. Of all the people in Bliss, why him? Matt never saw her as grown-up and capable. Instead he still treated her like a child, like the young girl he’d teased.

The man was too sure of himself. Tall, broad-shouldered, long legs encased in denim, his suntanned face hidden by the wide brim of a black Stetson, Matt’s every inch oozed cowboy. And every one of those inches oozed irksome.

He came to a halt in front of her, boots planted in a wide stance as if buffeted by the winds that blew across the open range. With a smile, Matt doffed his hat, the late afternoon sun gleaming in his dark wavy hair. The man was good-looking, she’d give him that, but the only man she ached to see was Papa.

“Welcome back,” he said. His Texas drawl was polite, yet the pucker between his brows was far from friendly.

“Good to be back.” She scanned the crowd milling about the depot platform, retrieving baggage and greeting family. “Have you seen my father?”

Matt plopped his hat in place, throwing his chocolate-brown eyes in shadow. “Martin asked me to pick you up.”

Surely after being apart for a year, Papa wouldn’t miss meeting her train unless...

Was something wrong? She swallowed against the sudden knot in her throat. “Why didn’t he come himself?”

“Didn’t say. Better not keep him waiting.”

Before she could question him further, Matt took her by the elbow and guided her across the wooden platform, dodging two rambunctious youngsters running through the throng.

Was it only four years ago she’d tagged after Zack, Matt’s youngest brother? At the time, Matt had been married to Amy, his high school sweetheart, and had reveled in teasing Hannah at every opportunity. That had been before Amy’s horse threw her and she died from a broken neck, when Matt’s laugh came easy.

Now, he looked tense. Did he resent picking her up? Well, she wasn’t any happier about the switch.

Still, to be fair, she should ease her attitude toward the man, give him the benefit of the doubt. From what Papa had told her, he’d closed himself off after his wife’s death.

They stopped before the baggage cart’s perspiring attendant. Hannah pointed out her bags and large camel back trunk.

The porter surveyed her luggage, mumbling an oath under his breath.

Heat flushed her cheeks. If she’d had a choice, she would’ve left every dress behind in Charleston. But, Papa had tired of seeing her in denim and had insisted she return with a new wardrobe. Aunt Mary Esther had made his wishes her mission.

Matt slipped the attendant a tip. “I’ll take it from here.”

With a snaggletooth smile, the porter doffed his hat, then turned to the next traveler.

Matt hefted the trunk onto his shoulder, letting out a grunt. “A man could bust a gut toting this load. Must’ve brought the entire state of South Carolina back with you.”

“That’s not my fault, I—”

“If you packed them, I’d say that makes them yours,” he said before she could explain the large number of cases weren’t her idea.

He balanced the trunk then grabbed a valise’s leather handle, straining muscles that pulled his shirt tight over powerful shoulders and arms, producing an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach.

“Stay put,” he said. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying...” Her voice faded as he swaggered off. How dare he treat her like a hothouse flower.

She grabbed the three remaining cases and marched after him, the sun glaring on her back, her lungs heaving against her cast-iron corset. The ostrich plume on her gray felt hat drooped into view, tickling her nose. Her aunt would say the hat made fashion sense. More like fashion insanity.