Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online Page B

Just then, a flash of movement whisked past the wagon. It tore across the yard toward Briggs.
    He knelt down to meet a golden retriever who bounded into him and nearly knocked him over. The dog whimpered and licked Briggs’s face and hands. Sarah couldn’t suppress a smile.
    So this was his land. But where was the house? Looking all around, she hopped down from the wagon and splashed into a fresh, wet pile of manure that soiled the hem of her petticoat.
    “Oh,” she groaned, lifting her skirt and stepping back to examine the sole of her boot.
    “You gotta watch where you step around here,” Briggs said. He disappeared into the barn, then returned a moment later towing a white goat. “Go stretch your legs, Gertrude, but stay away from my trousers on the line.” He let her loose to wander the yard.
    Sarah, still scraping the bottom of her boot on the hard ground, watched Briggs walk back into the barn. She heard him apologizing to someone. “Sorry Maddie. Didn’t mean to be gone all night.” He stayed in the barn a while this time, and after a few minutes, Sarah wondered what she should do. Should she get her bag and find her own way to the house, or should she wait for him to escort her? Most definitely, she did not want to invade his home without his permission.
    But she was his wife. It was her home, too.
    Feeling an overall uneasiness, Sarah wandered around the yard while a pulsing, squirting sound reverberated from inside the barn. She entered the fenced pen which was attached to it, then peeked through the door to see Briggs sitting on a small wooden stool, milking a cow. He had removed his coat and had draped it over the side of the stall, and now sat with his loose white shirt stretched across his back.
    Leaning forward, he squeezed and pulled at the poor thing’s feminine underparts while milk squirted in thin, forceful streams. Sarah stood watching, entranced by the muscles in Briggs’s back, tensing and relaxing in unison with the steady sound of milk striking the wooden bucket. She realized with some surprise that she’d never really watched anyone milk a cow before, not for any length of time.
    All of a sudden, a brown flash came bounding out of the barn and tackled her. Tired and less alert than she ought to have been, she toppled backward into the mud, only then realizing her face, sun-burned and stinging from the long drive, was being licked clean with unbridled enthusiasm. The dog snorted, his long wet tongue making its aggressive way up her nose. “Ugh!” she screamed, trying to cover her face with her white gloved hands.
    “Shadow!” Briggs hollered. “Get off her!”
    The big dog skulked away with his ears pressed back and his tail between his legs, while the pig watched the entire spectacle with interest.
    “Sorry about that,” Briggs said, striding through the mud and wrapping his strong hand around Sarah’s elbow. “Look what he did.” He pulled her swiftly to her feet, but she lost her balance and fell forward on one knee into the mud before he scooped her up again.
    Sarah fought to control her temper and wondered how she had ever survived the past month without pulling her hair out. She tried to catch her breath, but it seemed no use. All her troubles were catching up with her. She picked at her skirt with shaky, muddy fingers. “My Sunday dress. It’s covered with mud.” It was the least of her worries, but it seemed the only problem she could talk about.
    “It ain’t mud,” Briggs said matter-of-factly.
    “It’s not mud,” she repeated, refusing to accept what possibilities remained.
    “Aw, hell,” he said again. “You’re gonna have to go down to the creek.”
    “The creek? Don’t you have a tub?”
    “A tub. Not out here, I’m afraid.” He turned away from her, then pointed. “Creek’s that way. You’ll find soap on the big rock.”
    Sarah glanced hopelessly in the direction of his outstretched finger, and guessed the water was just over the hill.