Bride On The Run (Historical Romance) by Elizabeth Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

down into the darkness of the canyon. Malachi, sensing her excitement, said quietly, “It’s the ferry. They’ve hung out the lantern.”
    Both of them fell silent as they wound their way into the depths of the great chasm. Anna could hear the hissing rush of the swollen Colorado. She could feel the air warming around her, growing as damp and heavy as a muggy New Orleans night.
    The mules, in their eagerness to be home, had broken into yet another bone-jarring trot. This time Malachi made no effort to hold them back. Anna clung grimly to his waist, her jaw clenched against the agonyof her strained hip joints and raw thighs. Drugged by exhaustion, she forced herself to stay awake, to think of the hot coffee and clean bed that would surely be waiting for her at the end of the ride. She would strip off her wet clothes, crawl between the sheets and sleep for hours—maybe for days. Malachi Stone had already declared their contract null and void. She was under no obligation to clean his house, cook his meals or wash his clothes. She could take her leisure while he repaired the road and the wagon. Then she could put this awful experience behind her once and for all.
    The floor of the canyon had leveled out now, and the sound of the river was very close. Eight-foot clumps of spring willow and feathery tamarisk lined the road, obscuring whatever lay ahead. Minutes crawled by, each one an eternity, before Anna caught the flare of lamplight through the brush. An instant later her view opened wide, revealing a log fence with a lantern hung from a nail on one post. Beyond the fence, the light revealed shadowed glimpses of a barn, a corral, an open ramada and a rambling adobe house with a roof of Mexican tile.
    As the mules clattered through the gate, the door of the house burst open, casting a long rectangle of light on the sandy ground. Silhouetted by that same light, two figures, one small and wiry, the other taller, willow-slim, stood framed by the doorway.
    As they started forward, the smaller one bounding toward the gate like a terrier, the taller one—the girl—hesitant, hanging back, Anna’s heart shrank inher chest. She had done her best to put this first confrontation out of her thoughts. But that was no longer possible. Ready or not, she was about to meet Malachi’s children.

Chapter Four
    A nna saw that the girl was holding a lantern. She raised it high as her father pulled Beelzebub to a halt, but she made no move to come closer. As Malachi had mentioned, she was tall, nearly as tall as Anna herself. But she was as thin as a willow wand, her eleven-year-old figure just short of budding into womanhood. Her hair was braided into frizzy black pigtails, and the pale flannel nightgown she wore barely reached her knees.
    “Papa?” The uncertain voice was thin and musical. “Papa, is that you?”
    Anna heard Malachi’s low breath of relief as his body slackened. Only then did she realize how worried he had been about leaving his children alone—and how important it had been to find them a mother.
    As the girl hesitated, lantern raised high, a smaller form shot past her like a Pawnee arrow. “Pa!” Only Malachi’s carefully extended boot kept the boy from running headlong into the mule’s legs. “Is she here? Did you bring her?”
    Anna’s spirit shrank from the eagerness in hisyoung voice. She tried to avoid looking directly down at the boy, who appeared to be wearing nothing but one of his father’s old work shirts cut off at the sleeves. The long tails hung nearly to his small bare ankles.
    “I brought her.” Malachi’s reply was flat and weary as he swung a leg forward over the mule’s neck and eased himself down the animal’s shoulder. Anna was left sitting alone on Beelzebub’s back with her skirts hiked above her knees. “Josh,” Malachi said without looking up at her, “this is Anna.”
    The round, upturned eyes were dark brown and as friendly as a puppy’s. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,”