Mail-Order Bride Switch

To the art department—thank you for the beautiful covers you have designed for my books over the years. I truly appreciate your talent and hard work.

And to Sam, my critique partner and friend. Once again, thank you. I don’t know what’s ahead—but I sure hope you’ll be with me.

“Commit thy works unto the Lord,

and thy thoughts shall be established.”

—Proverbs 16:3

Your Word is truth. Thank You, Jesus.

To God be the glory.

Contents

Cover (#ub2a628fb-6535-5124-8a79-bad0d9a2874d)

Back Cover Text (#u2ec98cf0-7b3f-58cd-9db5-bb470f1c0768)

About the Author (#u6f567ce0-e5e9-5a37-97ac-2ddb8edcffc5)

Booklist (#u5a77154d-7d5f-50ad-b517-ee0804ddf1b4)

Title Page (#u5889a90a-ee99-57c8-9966-58d26d08b6aa)

Copyright (#ubb769eaf-e565-5884-a3c2-8cd8fcf62717)

Introduction (#uce428c8f-3548-54ca-9961-fa56f437d856)

Dear Reader (#u4a53bc3a-0882-5951-92cd-4b08fb8c3e11)

Bible Verse (#uee7f66bf-f36e-5d36-9235-793fd6c9d8ed)

Dedication (#ufebbcbab-a29e-5734-a392-6506491b3030)

Chapter One (#ubbc8ae92-7cd2-532a-8c25-f408c8f0795d)

Chapter Two (#ua291b17f-2ed9-566a-b0b5-2a559f483e27)

Chapter Three (#u378c2749-bbea-52a2-8a15-309f432e2022)

Chapter Four (#u69a56010-b050-5d86-bb22-488925a943db)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ucb528068-b455-5a02-8f0e-f55c811532dc)

Medicine Bow Mountains, Wyoming Territory

January 1869

Garret Stevenson kicked the snow off his boots, climbed the steps to the roofed platform of the Union Pacific Railroad station and stopped. Light from the train’s lamp pierced the deepening twilight. Snowflakes shimmered in its gleam, were swallowed by the smoke the wind wrenched from the stack. He slid his gaze over the few passengers whose business had driven them from the train to brave the winter cold. There was only one woman among them. She had to be the one. His chest tightened. The flames in the oil lamps flickered and snow swirled through the frigid air, making vision difficult. He clenched his jaw, yanked the brim of his hat lower and started forward, noted the woman’s fur-trimmed hat and coat and stopped. The woman couldn’t be Millie Rourk. No maid would wear such a costly coat and hat. Or carry a fur muff. He frowned and swerved toward the passenger car.

A gust of wind swept across the platform, and he caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye and glanced back. The woman had stepped behind the partial protection of one of the platform posts and was struggling to hold down her long skirts. Why didn’t she go back aboard the train, out of the weather? A stronger gust of wind hit, whipping her skirts into a frenzy. He stiffened, stared down at the two black leather valises revealed by her flapping skirts. Was he wrong? Was she Millie Rourk?

He skimmed his gaze back up the opulent dark red velvet of her fur-trimmed coat. No, his first instinct had to be right. The woman was obviously rich and pampered.

The train whistle blasted its signal of imminent departure. A few soldiers hurried by him, leaped down the steps and trotted to the passenger car. The conductor glanced his way. He leaned over the railing and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Is there a woman yet to detrain?”

The conductor shook his head, grabbed the metal railing and leaped onto the passenger car’s small boarding porch.

His stomach churned. He raised his voice over the moan of the wind. “Was there another woman passenger aboard for Whisper Creek who missed—”

The conductor jabbed a gloved finger toward the station platform. “Only her.”