Herd to Please Read online

  Herd to Please

  The Bride Herder Series

  Jenna Brandt

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Locale and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or actual locations is purely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email [email protected].

  Text copyright © Jenna Brandt 2019.

  Photo copyright by Depositphotos.com, designed by Virginia McKevitt

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  A Note from the Author

  Also by Jenna Brandt

  Join My Mailing List and Reader’s Group

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise for Jenna Brandt

  I am always excited when I see a new book by Jenna Brandt.

  Lori Dykes, Amazon Customer

  Jenna Brandt is, in my estimation, the most gifted author of Christian fiction in this generation!

  Paula Rose Michelson, Fellow Author

  Ms. Brandt writes from the heart and you can feel it in every page turned.

  Sandra Sewell White, Longtime Reader

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  The Bride Herder Series Info

  Book #1 — The Bride Herder by George McVey

  Book #2 — Herd the Music by Lynn Donovan

  Book #3 — Herd to Breathe by Amelia Adams

  Book #4 — Herd to Love by Christine Sterling

  Book #5 — Herding the Hellions by Danni Roan

  Book #6 — Herd to Handle by Ginny Sterling

  Book #7 — Playing Herd to Get by Natalie Dean

  Book #8 — Herd the Heavens by Jo Grafford

  Book #9 — Herd to Please by Jenna Brandt

  Book #10 — Herding Her Heart by Kit Morgan

  Series Page on Amazon

  -To my friends who are like sisters-

  We watch out for each other like Abigail does Alice.

  Thank you for always being there.

  Chapter One

  Early Summer 1896

  Outskirts of Colorado

  How did this happen? The question kept rolling around in Abigail Bowen’s head. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands, her mind kept drifting back to the same four words. How…did…this…happen…

  As she sat next to Alice, her younger sister, in a train car filled with eight other brides-to-be set to arrive in Bent, Colorado, she wondered if she had made the right decision to accompany her sister. When Alice had approached her with the absurd notion they should apply to be matched with husbands out West, Abigail thought it was a flight-of-fancy. She figured this too would pass like all of Alice’s other schemes. A month later, when she revealed she had secretly applied for them both to be matched, Abigail was furious.

  “Let me understand this, you decided to go behind my back and sign us up for a matchmaker?” Abigail clipped out in an angry tone. “You want me to hop on a train with you and promise to marry a man I’ve never met?”

  “If we don’t take this offer to be matched with husbands in Colorado, we’re going to end up street urchins, begging for crumbs. I did this so we could start over,” Alice justified.

  “I don’t want to start over,” Abigail exclaimed, slamming her book shut and placing it on the table in the sitting area of the tiny guest room they shared at the house of their last remaining friends. “Baltimore is the only place we’ve ever known. How can you think about leaving?”

  “We don’t have any other choice, Abigail. We’ve used up all the goodwill we have here in Baltimore.”

  “You’ve used it up,” Abigail corrected with resentment. “If you hadn’t chased after every eligible bachelor in the entire city, trying to land a husband as fast as possible, we could have found a way to make it work here. Instead, you’ve scared off all of our friends.”

  “That’s not true or kind, Abigail. The fire did that. I can’t fix what happened, but if we go somewhere else, maybe the pain won’t be as bad.” Reaching out, Alice placed her hand on her sister’s arm, adding with a plea, “Don’t make me do this alone.”

  In a blink of an eye, it was all gone, turned to rubble around her feet. Everything she had ever loved, her sense of belonging, her safety, all burnt to ash with their family home. She didn’t think it could get any worse. Then the debt collectors came, followed by friends vanishing or turning them out, and finally they were on the brink of ruin.

  What Abigail hadn’t revealed to her sister was that she had been offered a governess position for a family in Baltimore. She had planned to accept the next day when Alice told her about the matchmaker. In that moment, she knew she had a choice. She could stay and have a modest income in a familiar place, or she could follow after Alice, like she always did, cleaning up her mess. Her sense of obligation to her sister made the choice for her. Not that she didn’t love Alice. She did, but it always seemed unfair it was her job to fix everything for her younger sister, even though it often resulted in a cost to herself. The issue was that Alice didn’t have the means to take care of herself—her naiveté made her an easy target.

  It’s why Abigail had agreed to come with her out West. She couldn’t let Alice promise to marry a man she didn’t know and move across the country without keeping an eye on her. Her sister would have ended up robbed, abused, or worse, if Abigail wasn’t there to protect her.

  “What are you reading?” the dark-eyed, dark-haired woman who insisted everyone called her Bert inquired as she peeked over Abigail’s shoulder from the side.

  Abigail glanced at the other woman for a moment, trying to hide her irritation at the interruption. She shifted in her seat, wanting to scoot away from the prying eyes of Bert.

  “I was just curious since I like to read too. Maybe we could trade some books since we’re going to be living in the same town?”

  When Abigail didn’t respond for the second time, Bert leaned back in her seat and mumbled under her breath, “It’s not like I asked her what her deepest, darkest secret was. It was an easy enough question. Why is everyone so prickly around here?”

  Alice leaned over Abigail and said to the other woman, “Don’t take it personally, Bert. She’s like this with everyone.”

  “Thank you, Abigail, I appreciate you saying that,” Bert said with a warm smile.

  “Alice,” Abigail corrected through clenched teeth, slamming her book shut and shoving it in her tapestry bag. “Her name is Alice. I’m
Abigail. How many times must we tell all of you our names before you keep them straight?”

  The entire time they had been traveling, the women had gotten Abigail and Alice confused, which was beyond either of the sister’s ability to comprehend why. Though they both had dark hair and eyes, that was where their similarities ended. Abigail had higher cheekbones and thicker eyebrows. She was also three inches taller and slenderer than her petite and curvy little sister. Beyond the physical differences though, there was also the matter of their personalities. Abigail tended to keep to herself, only opening up to people once she got to know them. Alice, on the other hand, loved being around people and made fast friends wherever she went.

  Was this how the rest of her life was going to be? Everyone around her confusing her with her sister and not having any identity of her own. Standing up in a huff, Abigail took off out of the car. She needed just a few minutes to herself where she didn’t have women cooing over their plans for the future, tears over being homesick, or questions about what brought them out West. All she wanted was some blessed peace and quiet, which she hadn’t been fortunate enough to have since leaving Baltimore.

  Part of her knew she was overreacting. She knew it wasn’t any of those women’s fault, with perhaps the exception of Alice, that she was stuck traveling to a remote place to marry a man she wasn’t even sure she would be able to get on with once they met. Abigail wasn’t known for being easy to get along with, unlike her sister, who was outgoing and loved being the center of attention. Abigail was just the opposite, causing many to speculate about her borderline reclusive nature. She couldn’t count how many times Alice whined about Abigail refusing to go with her to a party or the theater, or how all their friends—correction Alice’s friends—thought she hated them.

  Abigail wished she could change, find a way to make herself more palatable to others, but it just wasn’t in her. She liked a solitary life, and would have preferred to be a spinster living with her parents rather than resort to what she was about to do because of their passing.

  Silently, Abigail sent up a prayer, asking God to help her navigate this difficult path she found herself reluctantly trotting down. She had no idea who was going to be at the end of it, and that was what terrified her.

  Chapter Two

  Mason Stillwell slid the glass of whiskey across the bar to Leroy Enis, who was on his fourth round of the strong liquor. Mason wasn’t one to tell another man how to live his life, but Leroy needed to slow down before he ended up causing another scene in Mason’s bar. The last time the sheriff had to show up, he threatened to arrest Mason for not stopping the men from drinking too much. He tried to explain it wasn’t his job to babysit grown men, but the sheriff didn’t care.

  With irritation, Mason let out a heavy sigh. “Whoa, easy there, Leroy, I don’t want you getting as much liquor in you as you did last time.”

  Mason wanted to stop Leroy before it was too late. He didn’t want to spend the night in jail for a bunch of drunk degenerates who didn’t care enough to stay out of trouble.

  “Listen here, Stillwell, it’s not your job to tell me what to do,” Leroy slurred, followed by a hiccup and waffling of his head to prove the opposite.

  Mason ignored the use of his last name as his first. This was a habit that started as a joke because he owned a place that made money from distilled liquors and his last name was Stillwell.

  “Look, I know it’s not my job to tell you what to do, but this is my place, and I don’t need any more trouble. You don’t want to spend another night in jail, now do you, Leroy?” Mason coaxed, as he wiped the counter in front of the man.

  “Fine, have it your way, Stillwell. I’ll slow down for now and go play some cards in the meantime.” Leroy pushed up from the bar and fumbled over to the card tables in the corner of the establishment.

  The only thing that separated Mason’s bar, Westwind, from the Hair of the Dog Saloon was the fact he didn’t provide lodging or employ saloon girls. They were way too difficult for his liking. Though saloon girls could turn a good profit, they did so at a price Mason wasn’t willing to pay—his peace of mind. He preferred to man his own bar and avoid the trouble that women in tight clothes and with loose morals tended to attract. He did just as good a job on his own, anyway, with the help of his only other worker, Andy Winslow, who he had hired and trained as a barkeep when he had come to town a year prior.

  At least Mason assumed he did a good job running his bar since he wasn’t out of business yet. If he could keep his books for the business straight, he’d know for sure. Numbers weren’t really his strong suit, though people really weren’t either. These factors made him glad that, despite Bent being only a small town, they welcomed having a place where men could come and relax without all the dramatics that came with being in a saloon.

  “Good evening, Stillwell,” Kane Jameson, the co-innkeeper of the Black Barrel Inn, greeted him with a wide grin as he sidled up to the bar. “I figured I’d stop in for a whiskey before everything changes around town tomorrow.”

  “What’s going on tomorrow?” Mason asked with confusion. He could barely remember his shipment dates, let alone every blasted meeting the mayor called on a whim. “Is there a town meeting I forgot about? What’s on the agenda? It’s not about passing some liquor ordinance again, is it?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Kane stated as he took a sip of the whiskey Mason handed him. “The brides Miss Viola obtained right before her passing are coming in tomorrow.”

  Brides? Brides? Why did that sound familiar. Then it dawned on Mason, he had secretly placed an order with her for a bride of his own. Make no mistake, it wasn’t a love match Mason was seeking. He knew better than to confuse love with marriage. Rather, he was in need of a confidant he could trust with figuring out and maintaining his books for the bar.

  Accountants were sparse in these parts, and those that were around could very well rob you as help you. If he was going to find help, he needed the person to be as invested in the bar as he was. He had no idea, however, how to find someone like that without giving up part of his business to a partner.

  Like fate, Miss Viola, of all people, had come into his bar wanting to speak with him one afternoon.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stillwell,” the elderly gray-haired woman greeted with a friendly smile as she waited at the edge of the long oak bar for him to acknowledge her.

  “What are you doing in here, Miss Viola? Respectable women don’t frequent the Westwind.”

  “I realize that, but I was hoping you might give me a moment of your time. I have something I would like to speak with you about.”

  “Okay, but I’m not really sure what we would have to discuss,” Mason said, coming from behind the bar and gesturing for Andy to take over.

  They made their way to a quiet corner of the bar, where Mason offered her a seat.

  She glanced at the chair skeptically and shook her head. “Thank you, dear, but I’ll remain standing. This shouldn’t take long. I’m sure you’ll agree immediately once I make my case.”

  Mason crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “What do you think I’m going to agree to?”

  “Why, to me finding you a match, of course. It’s what I do after all. You need a wife, Mr. Stillwell. I can provide that for you with no work on your part and a only nominal fee.”

  “How nominal are we talking?” he asked, doubtfully.

  “I only require $25 up front, and that is to cover the cost of the travel along with the lodging once she arrives. Once you’re married, I would require another $25 to finish the agreement.”

  “$50?” Mason shouted with shock. Then after glancing over at Andy and the singular guest in the bar to make sure they didn’t hear his outburst, he lowered his voice and continued. “That bride had better be made of gold for that price.”

  Miss Viola rebuffed his objection. “Let me assure you, Mr. Stillwell, the right wife is worth more than your weight in gold. Think o
f all she will do for you. She can keep your home…”

  Mason didn’t need a woman to keep his home. It consisted of a solitary room above the bar next to his office.

  “She would cook your meals…”

  Though his food wasn’t the best tasting, he had become proficient in providing the sustenance he needed. He doubted he needed a woman for that reason alone.

  “She would bear your children…”

  Wait, what, Mason wasn’t even sure he wanted children. That might very well fall into the negative category for him.

  “She would be a companion for you…”

  Miss Viola obviously didn’t know him well. Mason preferred being alone. Besides, the last time he had let a woman into his heart, she had broken it. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk that again.

  Deciding he had enough of Miss Viola’s outrageous suggestion, he ushered her towards the door. “I think you’re mistaken about me, Miss Viola. I’m not the marrying breed. You would be better off spending your time on a man who truly wants a wife.”

  “You’re not the first man to think that,” Miss Viola countered, resisting his dismissal of her and her determination. “Why, my own nephew, Chance, says the same thing every time I bring the subject up to him. I realize that maybe you think you have no need for a wife in the traditional sense, but what if she could help you here, at the bar?”