Second Chance Bride by Jane Myers Perrine Read Free Book Online Page B

his bed and pulled the covers up. This time, he slept.
     
    Saturday morning, after surviving three days as a teacher, Annie woke up early. She stretched and discovered she had fewer aches. She checked the wound on her arm and found it was healing quite well.
    She felt much better. Although she’d slept only a few hours, she was ready to get up and get back to work, to start learning more. At least until she looked out the window.
    The sun had barely begun to rise. The morning appeared only as a fiery glow across the horizon, just beginning to sketch pink rays across the dark sky. This was too beautiful a morning to spend at her desk. For a few hours, she’d reward herself for all the time she’d spent at work. She’d take a walk and enjoy the birds and the sun and whatever else she found. After washing and dressing quickly, she forced her feet into her shoes and raced to the door and outside.
    Which way should she go? Straight ahead lay the Sullivan ranch, and she didn’t feel comfortable heading that way. She might look as if she assumed a friendship that didn’t exist, and she certainly didn’t want to trespass on their privacy. Behind her lay the road and, on the other side, another ranch. To her left and right lay land that probably belonged to the Sullivans but surely they wouldn’t mind if she explored a bit on the acres farther from their home. She’d walk toward the sun and enjoy the marvels revealed in its expanding light.
    As more birds joined the morning chorus, she was surrounded by music. She followed a faint path—barely a trace, really—with tall prairie grass on each side. What might be hiding in there? Mice? Possibly snakes, but this morning she didn’t care. She merely wanted to revel in the daylight, to feel the cool air on her face and the sun on her cheeks, to experience the solid crunch of the ground beneath her feet.
    She moved through a thicket, dodging the branches that attempted to snag her skirt, touching the rough bark of the trees and noting the bare branches. She knew the sunlight would color her face, but that didn’t matter. Real ladies would protect their complexions by wearing bonnets or never coming outside in the sunshine, but she’d always loved her walks, even as a sad child and, later, as a woman escaping the heat and terror of the brothel for a few minutes. She held out her arms to feel the joy around her, to draw it in and allow it to warm those cold places inside.
    Once through the grove, she found a very inviting tree stump, seemingly placed there just for her. She sat on it and breathed in the beauty surrounding her.
    Within moments, she heard hoofbeats coming hard and fast. Her first reaction was to leap to her feet and hide in the trees, but the rider came into view before she could move. He didn’t seem to notice her. He rode with such joy, such abandon, as if this were what he’d been created to do. He and the horse moved together, a picture of effortless perfection and absolute happiness.
    The rider wore no hat, his short dark hair blowing a bit. She could hear the sound of deep laughter, and she almost laughed herself, enjoying the sight of this man and his horse, the pure splendor of the two together with the sunlight behind them. A shiver of delight filled her.
    Her slight movement alerted the rider that he wasn’t alone. He turned the horse and pulled it to a stop, facing her from nearly fifty yards away. Who was he? Putting her hand above her eyes to fight the glare, she still couldn’t see his face. He snapped the reins and moved toward her.
    Why was she sitting out here alone with an unknown man closing in? Immediately instinct took over. She leaped to her feet and ran toward the trees.
    “Matilda?”
    The voice belonged to John Sullivan. She stopped and turned, her heart pounding. He galloped up to her, and she realized that he looked like a completely different man out here at dawn, riding as if nothing else existed in the world.
    “Hello. You’re