Second Chance Brides by Vickie Mcdonough Read Free Book Online

offer for a ticket out of town.”
    Leah felt her own eyes widen at the woman’s unexpected declaration. She dropped in a side chair. “But where would you go? I thought you had no relatives in America.”
    Shannon pressed her lips together until they turned white. “I don’t, but ’tis so awkward here now that Rachel has married. Don’t you think?”
    Leah nodded. “Yes, but Luke and Rachel are good people, and she runs this boardinghouse. They will have others staying with them and sharing their table most of the time.”
    “Aye, ’tis true. But not the women who competed to marry her husband.”
    Leah wrung her hands together. Shannon was voicing the very same thoughts that she’d had ever since the day Luke announced that Rachel was the woman he loved. “What else can we do besides bide our time until we find someone else to marry or some kind of employment?”
    Shannon shook her head. “You could return home to your family.”
    Leah stiffened her back. “That’s not an alternative.”
    The pretty, auburn-haired woman’s gaze flickered from Leah to across the room and back. “If I’m not stickin’ my nose where it doesn’t belong, might I ask why you can’t?”
    “It doesn’t matter. I just can’t.” Leah stood. “If there’s nothing you need, I’ll go help Rachel.” She spun around and scurried from the room like a rat caught raiding the pantry. She should have just told Shannon the truth—that her father had for all intents and purposes sold her to a creepy old man. If she returned home, she’d be expected to marry Mr. Abernathy. She shuddered, just thinking of his leering gaze and the white hair that grew from his ears and nostrils. No, she’d rather marry an Apache than that old curmudgeon.

C HAPTER 4
     

     
    M ark snapped the pencil in half and tossed it across the room. The pieces clinked against the window, drawing a curious glance from a passerby. He exhaled a frustrated sigh. “How am I supposed to tally the ledgers and do bookwork if I can’t write? Seems like the doc could have left more than just my fingertips free of this wretched cast.”
    “Patience, patience.” Garrett propped his feet on his desk and sipped his coffee. “I’ve been saying it for a while: We need to hire some help.”
    “I thought you wanted to hire someone to lend a hand with deliveries, not the bookkeeping.”
    “Well…that changed when you busted your wrist. We could get someone to work in the office, and you can keep going with me on deliveries.”
    Mark harrumphed. “Fat lot of help I’d be. I can’t lift freight until this heals.” He held up his hand with the cast on it.
    “You can drive the wagon while I sleep.” Garrett grinned.
    Mark tossed a paperweight at him. Garrett dodged it, flailing his arms like a young bird trying to fly, and fell out of his chair. Mark chuckled for the first time since the storm.
    Garrett sat on the floor, his arms on his knees, and shook his head. “You’re sure in a foul mood, brother.”
    “You would be, too, if you only had one hand to work with.” Mark knew he was being a cantankerous grump, but he could use a little sympathy. The problem was, Garrett wasn’t offering any. His brother had no idea how hard it was simply to do feats like getting dressed, shaving, or tending to his daily needs. Mark had just about decided to grow a beard. He’d nicked himself four times shaving today. Too bad Lookout didn’t have a barber.
    Garrett righted himself in his chair and sipped his coffee again. Mark strode over to the coffeepot, carrying his cup. He stood staring at the pot for a second before he realized he couldn’t lift it and hold the cup at the same time. He smacked his cup on Garrett’s desk, drawing a raised brow from his brother, and then poured his coffee. The fragrant aroma wafted up, calming him.
    “I could have done that if you’d asked me to.”
    Mark scowled. “I’m not totally helpless.”
    Garrett grinned. “I noticed you managed