Bride By Choice (Chance Creek Brides Book 1)

By Mary L. Briggs

Searching the reflection, she trembled. If she had been shown a photograph of herself, she wouldn’t have been able to recognize the person. She gazed into the mirror for a moment longer, then turned away, confusion swimming through her mind. Something, any moment now, would trigger her memory. . .

Called Missy by the family that rescued her, she has no memory of her life before she awoke in the Murphy cabin in Chance, Texas, 1890. Clues to her past are few, but questions are many as she struggles to remember her past and trust God to reveal her true identity. A task made more difficult by her growing attraction to the man who rescued her.

Jared Murphy is a man who lost his heart to the wrong woman and vowed it would never happen again. Until the moment he and his aunt rescued an injured young woman from a nearby creek bank. Half-drowned, she has no memory of her name or her past--or the reason why someone tried to kill her. In his quest to help her, can Jared set aside his wounded pride and learn to love again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary L. Briggs
• Release date: Dec 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301753529

Mary L. Briggs

Mary L. Briggs is a wife, mother, and registered nurse. She enjoys writing inspirational fiction and is also a free-lance writer. She has had two romance stories and one mini-mystery published in Woman's World Magazine. She enjoys reading, writing, studying American history, cooking, quilting, herb gardening, and crafting. Mary lives in a cordwood home in the Ouachita Mountains with her husband and two daughters. She also enjoys the company of five cats, a German Shepherd/Border Collie dog, and a flock of chickens.

Book preview

Bride By Choice (Chance Creek Brides Book 1)

By Mary L. Briggs

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Mary L. Briggs

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of 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

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

A sharp cry escaped her lips as the hot liquid splashed across her shirt. She sucked in her breath and pulled the searing cloth from her skin. Surveying the damage to her clothing, she sighed. No doubt the dark blotch down the front of her blouse would stain. Common sense should tell her not to stumble across the rocky camp area with a scorching cup of the brown liquid in her hand. No matter, there were more blouses in her bag.

Men’s shirts, really. Grandpa’s. They went well with the split skirts and leather boots she favored for riding and traveling. And it reminded her of him on a daily basis. She fought the tears that stung behind her eyelids. Someday there would be justice for his killer. She would go back to Kansas and see that someone paid for his murder.

She picked up the tin cup and tossed it near the coffee pot that rested on a steady rock next to the dying fire. Picking her way carefully through the stony pathway, she started toward the wagon, already packed for the day’s journey.

You just think you know everything! A woman’s angry voice rang out from behind the nearby grove of trees.

She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the querulous words. The couple’s fighting and arguing had been going on since the day they left for San Antonio. Another few days of hearing their petty squabbles and she’d be free of them. After she parted with three hundred and fifty dollars, that is. Talks of how to spend their new ‘fortune’ had made for common campfire conversations in the evenings.

You do what I say, or you know what might happen to you? Same as the rest, that’s what, was the man’s furious answer.

Paying no attention to the shouting, she pulled back the canvas tarp and scanned the gear packed in bags. She spotted one of the heavy green cotton sacks. Was it hers or theirs? They’d grabbed hers a time or two during their journey.

A guilty twinge stabbed through her as she thought about the pearl combs that had disappeared from her things. She had no proof Mrs. Howard had taken them. Still, one couldn’t help but wonder.

A quick peek in the container would tell her if it was her own. Untying the drawstring closure, she pulled open the bag and surveyed the contents. Her eyes widened and all thoughts of a clean shirt vanished. The wad of irritation rumbling in her stomach turned to a fiery ball of fear and confusion as she stared at the pretty white porcelain teapot, yellow roses on its sides. It belonged to Mrs. King, the kindly woman who had given them tea in her home two days ago when they’d stopped to camp near her ranch.

The story of the teapot’s journey to America from England still resonated in her ears. There was only one way that it had ended up in this wagon, buried in the Howard’s bag. Mrs. Howard had stolen it. That must have been what the two of them had done on their evening walk they always took together.

Heart racing, she reached her trembling fingers toward the handle and picked it up. Another item dropped from the bag. The flash of gold sent her heart spinning.

The squabbling voices came closer. Without a moment to lose, her fingers snatched the watch and chain, stuffing them in her vest pocket. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, making it impossible to tell how close they were to the camp. Every bone in her body trembled as she shoved the tea pot back inside. She caught a glimpse of what looked like her grandfather’s medical case inside, too, as she stuffed the bag back together, pulling the canvas cover in place over the wagon bed

Please, Lord, don’t let them notice I’ve opened this. She hurried to the bowl of water that sat on a rock near the remnants of the morning fire. Dumping some of it on her shirt, she scrubbed at the brown spot with her finger, willing it to go away. . .anything to keep her shaking hands busy.

***

Well you’re sure quiet this morning. What are you so glum about? Mrs. Howard asked, her voice raspy and hoarse from the earlier shouting match with her husband.

Melissa forced herself to look the woman in the eyes. Faded to a cold, watery blue, they were friendly at the moment. But they were eyes of deceit. Of a liar and a thief. And worst of all, a murderer. A shiver ran through her and she pulled her arms closer to her side.

Mrs. Howard’s eyes narrowed. You’re not getting sick are you? You look kinda pale.

She shook her head. No. Deep breath, sit up straight. She let her arms fall into a natural position. If she was going to try for an escape, she had to look as normal as possible. She forced her lips into a smile. I’m fine. Just tired of traveling, I guess. It will be nice to get to San Antonio.

Mrs. Howard’s eyelids dropped as she stared at her face. You sure seem anxious to get there and take care of the old lady. Sounds like a lot of trouble, to me.

Melissa grasped the side of the wagon with her trembling hands, her knuckles white. But she kept the smile. Well, she is my great aunt. And it’s kind of her to ask me to come live with her, now that my grandfather– she swallowed hard and looked away. Now that he’s gone.

Must have been a shock for you when he was found like that, Mr. Howard leaned forward and looked around his wife, his greasy, puffy face studying her own, as if hoping for some sort of reaction.

Anger burned hot in her stomach, twisting and turning up her throat, like a rattlesnake ready to strike. But not yet. She forced her glance away from his eyes and stared at the large, ugly fingers that grasped the reins. Of course it was, she clamped her jaw and forced her eyes to stay on his hands.

Why didn’t they leave her alone? Had they guessed she knew? The timepiece, buttoned in her pocket, was safe from his filthy hands. He would never touch it again. Even if she had to throw it in some passing river. She blinked back the tears that hid behind her lids and prayed for an easy escape. Someday, the two of them would be swinging from the end of a rope. Even if she had to do the deed herself.

Right here looks like a good place, Mr. Howard announced, stopping the wagon on a small rise overlooking a fast running creek.

A lot of water running in there for a drought. Must be fed by a spring, his wife commented, as the horses came to a halt.

I’ll get the coffee pot, Melissa offered, as she jumped off the wagon. She would enjoy serving these two a pot of very hot coffee before she made her break for freedom.

A loud snort burst from the man’s throat. We won’t be having any coffee, little Miss Nosy.

Chapter 2

Stop, Jared! Stop the wagon! There’s a dead woman down by the creek! Della Murphy grabbed the reins and attempted to wrestle them from her nephew’s hands.

Half asleep in the afternoon glare, her frantic screams jerked Jared Murphy from his lazy thoughts. Heart pounding, he gripped the lines harder and pulled. Whoa!

The horses shuddered to a halt and he jumped from the wagon, close on the heels of his aunt, already running through the tall, dry grass, toward the lifeless pile of fabric beside the stream.

Aunt Della, wait! Uncle Abe had only been dead six months. There

Reviews for Bride By Choice (Chance Creek Brides Book 1)

[benn9314 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A sweet short story that has such a happy ending