Second Chance Brides by Vickie Mcdonough Read Free Book Online Page A

to eat just fine with your left hand. Learning to write shouldn’t be all that hard.”
    Mark ignored him and studied the map on the wall behind Garrett’s messy desk. A pin was stuck in each of the surrounding towns where they delivered the freight they picked up in Dallas once a week. They’d been two kids from a poor family—two kids who’d pulled plenty of pranks and practical jokes—but they had realized Garrett’s dream of starting a freight company and had built it into a successful business. In the beginning, the townsfolk had bets going on how quickly the Corbett Freight Company would fold up, but by the time he and Garrett had grown up and the business started taking off, the brothers had gained the respect of the town.
    Respect was something Mark cherished. He’d had none growing up. Their father had drunk away what little money he made, and their mother took in laundry and cleaned the saloon just to get by. Mark liked having people look at him with respect in their eyes, but he knew he didn’t deserve it.
    And he was soon going to have to face facts. He no longer wanted to be in the freight business. He had dreams of his own. Dreams that had been squelched but refused to go away. He just had to figure out how—and when—to tell his brother.

     
    Shannon closed her book and stared out the parlor window. The morning sun shone bright, and few traces of the storm still remained other than the damage to the buildings and trees. Boards covered most of the window openings she could see, and piles of broken wood and debris still littered the lot where the mercantile had been. Sweat trickled down her chest and back. Though only midmorning, the temperature was sweltering enough to sear bacon on an anvil.
    After two days, her ankle was better, but she still had to stay off her feet a while longer per the doctor’s orders. Walking was difficult, but she far preferred the pain to having Luke Davis carry her up and down the stairs, not that he wasn’t capable of doing so.
    “Silly lass.” She heaved a sigh, reminding herself that he was no longer a free man. All her hopes and dreams had been placed on marrying him, but it wasn’t to be.
    She flipped open her book, and the wrinkled page of a letter stared up at her. Shaking her head, she knew it was foolish to write such a missive, but doing so had helped her in a small way. She glanced around the room, even though no one was there other than her. The wooden furniture gleamed with the fresh waxing it had received yesterday, and dust had not yet had a chance to settle and dull the shine. Two matching settees sat on opposite walls with a quartet of side chairs sitting at angles to the settees, and several small tables helped fill the room. A piano, not used since she arrived, sat looking as lonely as she along the far wall.
    Smoothing open the letter, she stared at the words. What kind of person wrote a letter to a dead woman?
Dear Mum ,
I miss you so much and wish you were here. I miss your smiles, your hugs, and kisses on my cheek .
You won’t believe this, but I’m in Texas now. ’tis such a grand, wild state, Texas is. Cowboys fill the streets, sometimes hooting like banshees and firing guns, but the marshal quickly confiscates their weapons and gives them some cooling-down time in his jail .
     
    Shannon twisted her mouth up, disgusted with herself. The marshal, again. Shaking her head, she continued reading.
Lookout—’tis such an odd name for a town—is small compared to some of the Texas towns I traveled through on my way here from Louisiana. Things are so much drier than in our homeland. I miss the green of Ireland .
There’s a high ridge across the river where outlaws and later soldiers used to watch for their enemies, so I’ve been told. That place is called Lookout Ridge and is where the town’s name comes from. There’s a river west of town that flows to the south. Then it makes a sharp turn at the ridge before traveling eastward. A pool