His Mail Order Bride Was the Prettiest Woman He Ever Laid His Eyes On
Chapter 1
The man waiting beside the muddy road had expected a wife.
He had not expected the most beautiful woman he had ever seen to step out of a mail coach carrying nothing but a worn leather valise.
Thomas Reed stood beneath the wooden awning outside the village inn, his hat pulled low against the autumn rain.
The coach arrived just before sunset.
Two horses.
One tired driver.
Three passengers.
And one woman sitting alone near the back.
Thomas had spent three months exchanging letters with her.
He knew her name was Eleanor Hart.
He knew she was twenty-four.
He knew she could sew, read, keep accounts, and had been raised by an aunt after losing both parents.
He knew she wanted a quiet life.
He knew she was willing to become the wife of a rancher she had never met.
But the letters had never mentioned her eyes.
When Eleanor stepped down from the coach, Thomas forgot every sentence he had prepared.
Her dress was simple blue wool.
Her brown hair was pinned beneath a modest bonnet.
Rain had darkened the shoulders of her cloak.
She carried herself with quiet dignity despite the mud beneath her shoes.
Thomas stared.
The driver cleared his throat.
“Mr. Reed?”
Thomas blinked.
“Yes.”
The driver nodded toward Eleanor.
“This is Miss Hart.”
Eleanor looked at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she smiled.
“Mr. Reed?”
Thomas removed his hat.
“Thomas.”
“Eleanor.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“That is rather obvious.”
Thomas almost smiled.
“Yes.”
She looked at the wagon waiting behind him.
“You came for me?”
“I did.”
“Good.”
She looked toward the road.
“No one else came.”
Thomas frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Eleanor’s smile disappeared.
“My aunt said a representative from the ranch would meet me.”
Thomas looked toward the coach.
“There is no representative.”
“I know.”
She tightened her grip on the valise.
“That’s why I was beginning to worry.”
Thomas stepped closer.
“I am the rancher.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
She studied his weathered coat, muddy boots, rough hands, and the rifle resting beside the wagon seat.
Then she looked back at his face.
“You look different from your letters.”
Thomas cleared his throat.
“I didn’t know letters had a face.”
“They do when a woman reads them enough times.”
That answer surprised him.
Thomas reached for her valise.
She pulled it away.
“I can carry it.”
“I know.”
He stepped back.
“Then carry it.”
Eleanor smiled.
Thomas realized something then.
She was not fragile.
She was not frightened.
And she was certainly not the quiet, helpless bride he had imagined.
He led her toward the wagon.
She followed.
Neither noticed the man standing inside the inn doorway.
He watched Eleanor closely.
Then he whispered to someone behind him.
“She actually came.”
A second voice answered.
“Then Reed will sign the papers.”
The first man smiled.
“And once he does, the land is ours.”
