Susan Mallery: Wild West Wife

Return to 1800s Whitehorn, Montana, in this fan favorite from New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery.

All Haley Winthrop wants is a chance at building a home and family. So, after corresponding with a wealthy rancher, Lucas Stone, she finds herself in a stagecoach bound for Montana, where she will become Lucas’s wife. But before she even arrives her coach is held up by a bandit. And he doesn’t want money; he wants Haley. He has some disturbing things to tell her about her future husband…

Jesse Kincaid is only interested in one thing: to take revenge on the man who had his father killed. So he lies in wait and kidnaps the man’s fiancée from her passing stagecoach. But he didn’t count on the bride-to-be, Haley, being so beautiful, so beguiling. Can he convince her that she’s about to marry the wrong man before it’s too late?

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Cover

Back Cover Text Return to 1800s Whitehorn, Montana, in this fan favorite from New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery. All Haley Winthrop wants is a chance at building a home and family. So, after corresponding with a wealthy rancher, Lucas Stone, she finds herself in a stagecoach bound for Montana, where she will become Lucas’s wife. But before she even arrives her coach is held up by a bandit. And he doesn’t want money; he wants Haley. He has some disturbing things to tell her about her future husband… Jesse Kincaid is only interested in one thing: to take revenge on the man who had his father killed. So he lies in wait and kidnaps the man’s fiancée from her passing stagecoach. But he didn’t count on the bride-to-be, Haley, being so beautiful, so beguiling. Can he convince her that she’s about to marry the wrong man before it’s too late?

Title Page Wild West Wife Susan Mallery www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Montana, 1879

Jesse Kincaid might not have sold his soul to the devil, but he’d come as close to it as a man could and still expect to head north upon his passing.

Despite the faint sound of hoofbeats in the distance, he allowed himself to be distracted by the quiet beauty of the late afternoon. Winter had finally left Montana and the lush growth of spring promised a long and warm summer. The calving season had gone well...at least that’s what he’d been told. He couldn’t speak from firsthand experience. The herd he and his father had built over the past ten years had been scattered when the ranch had been attacked and his father murdered. Nothing was left but a partially burned house, a legion of memories and the promise he’d made to exact revenge on those responsible.

Because of that, because of the vow he’d sworn on a cold, rainy night the previous October, he now stood by the rutted path that passed for a road and prepared to defy all that his parents had taught him. Because of that, he risked his very soul, raising his rifle as the weekly stage came into view.

He had a momentary second thought. He’d played pranks as a child—just as all boys did. But he’d been raised with good values and a strong sense of right and wrong. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason didn’t set well with him.

“You don’t have a choice,” he muttered aloud, knowing that while the end didn’t justify the means, sometimes justice had to be helped along.

Six powerful horses pulled the large stagecoach. The conveyance swayed, the leather straps under the carriage doing little to absorb the bumps of the road. They were too far away for him to be able to see in the window and identify the passengers, but he knew she was there. He’d received a wire two days before saying she’d made the connection and would be arriving in Whitehorn today. Stoner might be expecting her, but Jesse was determined to make sure she didn’t arrive. At least not right away.

He fitted the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and took careful aim. One well-placed shot would break the axle he’d weakened earlier and bring the carriage to a stop without too much risk. The trick was to time it so they didn’t tip. While he might be prepared to kidnap an innocent woman and hold her hostage, he didn’t want anyone’s death on his hands.

The path leveled out just before a sharp turn. The horses slowed in anticipation of the bend and Jesse pulled the trigger.

The single gunshot spooked the horses. Two of them reared up and pawed at the air. The driver held tightly on the reins and yelled at them to calm down. Seconds later there was a loud crack as the weight of the carriage split the axle and the rear of the stagecoach sank to the ground.

The left rear wheel splintered, then the right rear came loose and rolled away. The instant deadweight jerked the horses in their harnesses and the animals stopped. Several frightened cries filled the afternoon, startling birds into flight.

Jesse walked toward the stagecoach. He’d lowered his rifle, but he was alert and prepared to use it if pushed. Pray God no one decided to play hero and make that necessary. As Jesse stepped out of the bushes, Charlie, the driver, spotted him. The older man looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt.

Bushy gray eyebrows drew together. “That you, Jesse?” Charlie asked. “You hear that? We was shot. Damnation, I want to know who the hell is shooting at the stage. We ain’t got no money on this run. Folks know that. Supplies and passengers. Next week is the payroll. Damnation, I hate it when people can’t keep the schedule straight.”

He glanced around uneasily, then climbed down, moving awkwardly on the tilting stage. “You see anything? You get a look at the good-for-nothing who done this?”

“Stop right there,” Jesse said quietly.

Charlie ignored him. “It just don’t make sense to me. Why this run? We ain’t got nothing important. Shoot. Now we all gotta walk to town. You know how far that is?”

“About four miles,” Jesse said. He’d already figured that out. He’d been careful when he’d picked the spot to attack the stage. He wanted them close enough to town that they could walk in and tell everyone what happened, but not so close that he wouldn’t have time for a clean escape.

Charlie pulled off his worn hat and wiped his bald head. “And we was running early, too.”