Eileen Sewell sparks plenty of gossip by spiteful matrons and their horse-faced daughters that she’d find herself alone due to her picky ways. Of course, she didn’t believe them. Then again, she also didn’t expect to be a mail order bride either. It wasn’t easy snagging a husband who hadn’t heard about her willful nature. Eileen finally gave up hope of finding love, and decided to settle for whatever she’d find out west. If that wasn’t lowering enough, she’d just witnessed the first train robbery. Unfortunately, the outlaws saw her too. Enter Marshal Colt Sheppard, who excels at extracting information from reticent witnesses. His crooked smile and broad shoulders shouldn’t charm her. She’d played this game before, only she never had a worthy adversary. Talk about bad timing.
The train idled as several railroad workers congregated nearby, probably relating the details of the robbery.
A tall man in a western hat walked up to them, looking like a character from a Wild West dime novel from his noticeable sidearm to his fringed chaps. The man probably even wore spurs. Ridiculous. Still, her eyes kept going back to him to travel across his broad shoulders and wide chest. Some men padded out their jackets to look that good, but he wasn’t wearing embellishments, only a rough vest.
The hat shadowed his face, but she could tell he had a strong chin. A few blond curls peeked out from the brim of his hat. How disappointing. Her dream man had blond hair, but he never put in an appearance. Just goes to show you couldn’t trust a light-haired man. Montgomery might be blond, or at least a dark blond. No matter, she’d deal with it. The train tooted its final warning whistle at the same time the cowboy looked up at her. His face lifted up to the sunlight fascinated her from his bold slash of a nose, to his mouth twisted into a smirk, and his wide-spaced eyes. The train whistled, signaling the train’s departure, and the car lurched to move, propelling his magnificent body into action. Eileen admired his long-legged sprint, even the jump to grab a handrail to the car steps. He moved like a man on a mission, determined. Instinctively she knew he was coming for her.
A search through her reticule busied her hands and kept her head down, perhaps making her less noticeable. Boot steps jingling with every step because of spurs, of course, stopped by her seat. She continued to paw through her bag, silently cursing the lump of Yvette’s good luck piece, not looking up despite the loud throat- clearing. He’d not intimidate her with his boldness.
Instead of blustering or demanding, his voice, a warm, rich baritone, literally purred the words. “You’ll not find what you are looking for in that bag, Mrs. Sewell.”
Her head went up at her name.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Morgan as a child had to suffer through movies with clueless heroines rescued by smart men. Her mother dutifully read her stories where princesses waited for princes to jumpstart their lives. There were no proactive female role models in the media at that time, with the exception of Wonder Woman. It is for this reason, and that it is fun, Morgan writes about strong women going after what they want.
She has a blog about dating after forty on www.datingafterfortyeight.blogspot.com
Morgan pinches pennies on her blog; www. http://thefrugaldivatellsall.blogspot.com/
She also reviews book for Novelspot and blogs about writing at: www.novelspot.net
You can find Morgan at www.morgankwyatt.com
On Twitter and FaceBook at: morgankwyatt
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