A Bride for Logan by Barbara Goss (readict .TXT) 📕

saw Dallas leaning against a building. He shook his fist at her and shouted something she was glad she couldn’t hear; she shivered.

The stagecoach ride was bumpy. She lay her head back and closed her eyes. Everything had happened so fast. She’d never been in such a whirlwind of activity and emotions in her life. First, she'd lost her best friend in the world and her friend’s father. Then she’d found herself alone on a street in a strange town only to wind up in a brothel, then a saloon, then marrying a stranger. She spent most of her time on the long trip to Kansas praying.

What might this Logan Sinclair be like? Dora had said he ran a successful ranch, but that didn’t tell her anything about his personality. She had no control over the situation, but she knew that an annulment couldn’t take place once they'd consummated the marriage. Would an annulment be expensive? She wasn’t sure, but the thought gave her some hope.

Logan Sinclair had money—why couldn’t he find himself a wife? Emma shivered. If she thought him old, ugly, or if he was like Dallas, she’d be in trouble. She had to put her trust in God and that he’d taken her from a bad situation and put her into a better one. Whatever the situation, she'd find out when she arrived in Hunter’s Grove.

~~~**~~~

Logan hit himself on the forehead. “Alan, I just thought of something. We forgot to tell the woman in Boulder City to make sure my bride arrives in clothing befitting a lady.”

Alan smiled. “I took care of that.”

Logan clapped his friend’s back. “You've saved me once again.”

He paced the platform outside the stagecoach office, pulled out his pocket watch, and tapped on it. “What time is she to arrive?”

“Calm down. Four o’clock. We still have ten minutes.”

Logan took a deep breath. “I’m all right. I’m just nervous. What’s my wife’s name again?”

“Emma,” Alan said.

“Oh, good. It doesn’t sound like a saloon woman’s name.”

“Saloon women have specific names?” Alan asked.

“Yes, like Trixie, Belle, Diamond, Ruby…those are girls at The Slippery Saddle.”

“Logan, those aren’t their real names.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, mothers don’t know that their daughters will one day become saloon women when they name them,” he said with a snicker.

“Horse buckets! Here comes the stagecoach. Is my tie straight?”

“You look fine. Just remember you’re in charge. You asked for a bride, you have one, and now you’ll take her home and—say, what are you going to do with her when you get her home?”

“I’ll show her to the guest room. I can’t touch her or I won’t be able to annul the marriage later.”

“How long do you have to stay married?”

“I don’t know. A few months, I guess.”

Logan watched the passengers disembark. A heavyset man stepped down first and helped the two ladies out of the coach. The first woman was elderly. Logan hoped it wasn’t Emma since he'd forgotten to specify an age limit. The second woman was tiny, pretty, and with hair so black it nearly clashed with her creamy white skin. The first thing she did after landing on the platform was to open her parasol.

He nudged Alan. “She’s not bad.”

“I’ll say,” Alan replied. “If you don’t want her, send her my way, will ya?”

~~~**~~~

Once she'd landed on the platform, she opened her parasol and scanned the area around the stagecoach office. Most of the people were greeted by other passengers or waiting with their suitcases to board a stagecoach. She spotted two rather handsome young men standing near the building. The tall one had ginger-colored hair and wore spectacles. The other one, she decided, had to be her husband. She watched as he nervously patted his dark hair into place and straightened his string tie. He was dressed in his Sunday best and was holding a small bouquet. She walked toward the two men, studying them. Her husband had brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and a muscular build. His face was rugged but pleasing. His bright blue eyes were his most outstanding feature. She supposed she could have done worse. Now, all she had to worry about was his personality.

When she stood a handshake away, Logan Sinclair handed her the flowers.

“Thank you. They’re lovely,” she said, taking the bouquet and smelling it.

“People think we’ve already met, so I think we should embrace as if we're glad to see one another again,” Logan said.

Emma nodded, and he gave her a loose embrace.

He turned to Alan. “This is my good friend, Alan Hershel.”

Emma nodded at him and smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Emma. I have to leave, but I’m sure I’ll see a lot of you both. Congratulations.” Alan waved and walked down the wooden walkway toward his horse.

Logan helped Emma board the buggy before he walked around and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“First order of business is to visit my attorney. He wants proof of our marriage.”

“I see,” Emma said. She wanted to ask him why he needed a wife in such a rush, but she would wait until she knew him better. She didn’t feel the urge to talk to him as he seemed abrupt and impersonal. Maybe, at the attorney’s, she’d discover the reason. For the time being, she’d just keep silent, watch, and listen.

The attorney, John Snyder, was a man with graying hair. He greeted the couple and invited them to have a seat, pulled a file from his metal cabinet, and asked to see the proxy marriage papers. She pulled her paperwork from her reticule and Logan pulled his from his pocket and handed them to the lawyer who scanned them for quite a few minutes. At last, he shrugged and told Logan, “You now own the ranch. Stop by tomorrow and we’ll go to the bank and square things with