Make-Believe Marriage
When Tilly Hargreaves and her three nieces are stranded at his small stagecoach station in an abandoned town and threatened by outlaws, Nolan West must protect them. And the only way he can do that is by pretending he’s married to Tilly. But can the former soldier, whose only wish is for solitude, stop himself from growing attached to his temporary family?
Tilly knows the charade is necessary to keep her and the girls safe, but now her heart is in danger. The longer she pretends the stoic station agent is her husband, the more genuine their union feels. Nolan believes he’s better off alone, but Tilly’s certain that if he’d only open his heart to his make-believe family, he’d want to claim them as his for real.
Dear Reader,
For this installment of the Prairie Courtship series, I decided to explore other areas of the Great Plains during an earlier time. In the years following the Civil War, trains and steamships opened the American frontier. I’m fascinated by the people who decided to settle such a harsh and unforgiving land.
Nolan was a challenging character for me. I’m the exact opposite of him. I have an alarmingly easy time living in chaos. I organize my desk between each book, which means my desk is clean for precisely two days a year. Most of us, however, can relate to anxiety. We all find ways to feel as though we have some control over events swirling around us. Nolan and Tilly had both learned to manage their anxiety in solitude, but circumstances forced them to work together.
I love connecting with readers and would enjoy hearing your thoughts on this story! If you’re interested in learning more about this book, or others I’ve written in the Prairie Courtships series, visit my website at SherriShackelford.com, or reach me at sherrishackelford @gmail.com, Facebook.com/SherriShackelfordAuthor, Twitter @smshackelford, or regular old snail mail: PO Box 116, Elkhorn, NE 68022.
Thanks for reading!
Sherri Shackelford
As far as the outlaws knew, Tilly and Nolan were husband and wife.
She’d been too stunned by the outlaws’ unexpected attack to refute his words, but Nolan had latched on to the falsehood. He’d saved their lives, and her virtue, in the process. Though she wasn’t adept at dealing with fugitives, she admired Nolan’s ploy. He’d cleverly bargained his assistance for her safety and the safety of the girls.
Nolan led her to the meticulously ordered kitchen. He lit the stove and adjusted the flame. “The outlaws will expect the woman to prepare the food,” he said. “Follow my lead and try to pretend you know where everything is located.”
She and Nolan were treading through a minefield with this charade. Who knew what pitfalls they were bound to stumble over in the next few days? Her nieces had no idea of the danger, and she was determined to keep it that way.
Nolan was the best hope for the girls. He was the only one who could truly protect them. He was the one the outlaws needed for their plan to succeed.
If she wanted to live her life as a brave woman with purpose, then she’d better start acting like one.
SHERRI SHACKELFORD is an award-winning author of inspirational books featuring ordinary people discovering extraordinary love. A reformed pessimist, Sherri has a passion for storytelling. Her books are fast-paced and heartfelt with a generous dose of humor. She loves to hear from readers at sherri@sherrishackelford.com. Visit her website at sherrishackelford.com.
A Temporary Family
Sherri Shackelford
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive;
and plenteous in mercy unto all them
that call upon thee.
—Psalms 86:5
To Roy E. Shackelford, my greatest fan
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Dear Reader
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Bible Verse
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
Stagecoach relay station
Pyrite, Nebraska, 1869
Nolan West couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.
He flipped open the cover of his timepiece and checked the hour. Twenty minutes before the next stagecoach arrived.
For the past year, he’d been manning the Pioneer Stagecoach relay station out of the abandoned town of Pyrite. Three years before his arrival, an overly optimistic prospector had discovered gold in the nearby Niobrara River. A town had sprung up practically overnight. Within a year, the claim had dried up, and the town was abandoned. Only the relay station remained occupied.
Prairie grass nudged through the slats in the derelict boardwalk, and a wet spring had fed the wild brush reclaiming the spaces between the empty buildings. A cacophony of crickets, frogs and birds called from the shelter of the lush buttress.
Nolan’s sense of unease lingered, raising the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. He searched the shadows, catching only the rustle of the cottonwood leaves. He was alone. Yet the sensation lingered.
A bugle call sounded, startling him from his reverie, and Nolan replied in kind. He replaced his instrument on the peg just inside the livery door, ensuring the bell tube was directly vertical and the mouthpiece rigidly horizontal.
He slapped the reins against the rumps of the hitched horses. There was no time to waste. Because he worked the station alone, when he finished here, he’d have to hightail it back to the kitchen and serve the passengers dinner.
The rumble of hoofbeats sounded, and the distinctive orange Concord, with its gold trim, rumbled down Main Street. Harnesses jingled, echoing off the block-long stretch of deserted and dilapidated buildings. The driver swayed in time beside an outrider who cradled a shotgun in his arms. Reflections of the passing stagecoach appeared in the few windows that hadn’t yet been broken or boarded over.
As the driver slowed the Concord parallel to where Nolan’s hitched team waited before the town livery, the wheels kicked up dust. His horses surged forward.
The outrider stowed his gun and leaped from his seat. Bill Golden was a perpetually rumpled, stocky man in his midforties with a grizzled face and a mop of graying hair beneath his tattered hat. Considering he was usually drunk by this point in the journey, he appeared remarkably steady on his feet.
Bill lifted his hand in greeting. “Top of the day to you, West.”
“You’re early.”
“We’re traveling light.”
The stocky outrider pulled down the collapsible stairs and swung open the door.
A little girl, no more than three years old, appeared in the opening. A passenger inside the traveling carriage held the child suspended with her legs dangling. Bill grasped the child around the waist and set her on the ground. Two more girls appeared—chestnut-haired, brown-eyed, identical replicas of each other, probably around five or six years of age respectively.
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