Grace: Bride of Montana (American Mail-Order Bride 41) by Debra Holland Read Free Book Online Page B

hatbox to Frey. “If you could hold this, please, while I remove my coat.”
    He grasped the cord handle of her hatbox, and then reached for the strap of her satchel to transfer it from her shoulder to his. As he eased the coat off her shoulders, his fingers brushed the nape of her neck.
    Shivers feathered down her back, and not wanting to feel anything from his touch, she raised her chin, which resulted in the low braided bun of hair dipping to cover her neck.
    Mr. Flanigan tilted his head toward her portmanteau, placed near the edge of the platform by the train tracks. “I take it that’s your luggage?”
    She nodded.
    “I’ll get it for you.”
    “Thank you.” Grace took her coat from Frey and folded the garment over one arm.
    Mr. Flanigan returned with her portmanteau, and Frey reached out to take the luggage from him.
    “Do you want me to take the satchel and hatbox?” she asked.
    “No need,” Frey said in a cheerful tone. “I can manage all three. I make a great pack mule.”
    Once again his response startled her—as opposite as could be from her former betrothed, whom she now could see always painted himself in the best possible light. Victor never would have described himself as a mule.
    Mrs. Flanigan touched her arm, indicating they should start walking. “The parsonage is on the other side of the church, toward the back, near the graveyard.”
    The two walked across the platform and descended the stairs to the dirt street, the men following. Mrs. Flanigan kept up a running commentary of the buildings they passed.
    Grace half-listened and nodded, but her mind was on the man walking behind her and on her uncharacteristic teasing. Beyond an occasional quip, she couldn’t recall ever having exhibited a joking kind of humor with a male before—not even with her father, and certainly not with Victor.
    As the only child of solemn intellectuals, loving, yet reserved people, Grace had expected to finish her education and become a schoolteacher before eventually marrying. But the early death of her mother and the subsequent stroke and lingering deterioration of her father—which meant she had to stay home from school and care for him—had wiped out the family finances, leaving her penniless at his death.
    I suppose my life has always been so serious up to this point. With an unexpected sense of excitement, Grace wondered what else she’d discover about herself.

CHAPTER FIVE

    A nudge and a tilt of Trudy’s head to the opposite side of the street brought Grace’s wandering attention back to the present.
    “Hardy’s Saloon.” Trudy tossed a teasing smile over her shoulder at her husband. “Before we married, Seth spent a lot of time in there.”
    Seth groaned. “I haven’t set foot in the place for four and a half years.”
    Grace eyed the weather-beaten, false-fronted building before stopping to look at Frey, wondering if she needed to worry about him having a problem with drunkenness. “What about you?”
    “Yep,” he said cheerfully. “But like Seth, here, my days in Hardy’s have just passed, although they were quite memorable at the time. One of these days, I’ll regale you with tales, at least the tales that are fit for a lady’s ears.”
    Grace chuckled and exchanged a knowing glance with Mrs. Flanigan, who lifted her chin, indicating to continue walking.
    They reached the white wooden church. Sunlight illuminated the bell tower with a cross on top.
    Two horses hitched to a wagon were tied up at a post. Mrs. Flanigan tipped her head in that direction. “That’s ours. After the wedding, we’ll bring your things to Frey’s house. He lives in town. His place is not far from here. Not like our out-of-the-way farm.”
    The group walked toward the small parsonage situated behind the church.
    An older couple sat close together in rocking chairs on the small porch. She darned a sock, while he read a book. They looked engrossed in their tasks, an air of quiet serenity between them.
    Seeing