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Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)
Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)
Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)
Ebook36 pages33 minutes

Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)

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A woman from an upper class English family decides to become a mail order bride to an Arizona rancher, but is shocked when she realizes the potentially harsh life ahead on the days-long journey to his remote ranch by oxcart; and it’s a lonely one – accompanied by his silent Native American ranch hand.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherSusan Hart
Release dateJul 18, 2015
ISBN9781311189974
Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)
Author

Joyce Melbourne

Joyce Melbourne lives in Southern California with her husband, numerous animals, and an unkempt garden, which she loves. She's been interested in romance and all of its sub genres for many years.

Read more from Joyce Melbourne

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    Book preview

    Mail Order Bride - Joyce Melbourne

    Mail Order Bride: Emma Travels To Her Arizona Rancher, Malory, By Oxcart

    (A Clean Western Historical Cowboy Romance)

    By

    Joyce Melbourne

    Copyright 2015 Classic Western Romances Presents

    Synopsis: A woman from an upper class English family decides to become a mail order bride to an Arizona rancher, but is shocked when she realizes the potentially harsh life ahead on the days-long journey to his remote ranch by oxcart; and it’s a lonely one – accompanied by his silent Native American ranch hand.

    Emma stood, smoothed down her skirts and made her way up the short incline, kicking dust as she went. At the top she turned and looked back over the valley and muttered, This is what Hell looks like. She nodded to herself, as if she might have expected it. The valley responded with hard, empty silence.

    The canvas cover of the wagon stood white against a featureless, blue sky and the Indian sat motionless beneath his black hat. At the back of the wagon an arm grabbed her elbow and yanked her up.

    Emma resumed her place on the bench, looking out the rear to avoid the gaze of the man opposite. The Indian called out and the oxen lumbered forward. The wheels turned over the stony surface, the dust rose and the rocking began. The man and woman involuntarily shook their heads at one another.

    How do you like our bathroom facilities? he asked.

    He said it flatly, with neither humor nor malice. It occurred to Emma that spite would have been preferable, for spite would come and go.

    It's nice to be so close to nature, she replied without looking at him.

    My advice is to keep a distance between you and the scorpions.

    I don't believe they paid me any attention.

    You would know it if they did.

    They continued along the hard bedrock, the landscape bare and unrelenting, as if scorched clean of all affections other than occasional, scraggly weeds. They were going back to somewhere before civilization, before even grass and trees. Back to a place of primordial rock, with nothing more than petrified trees and whitened bones, the serpent and the lizard.

    He loosened the lid from the barrel, squeezed out the towel and handed it to her. He removed his neckerchief, dunked it and put it back on.

    She wiped the grit from her arms and face and said, The water is not as cool as it was.

    He grunted to indicate the observation did not merit a reply.

    They had been in the wagon since the early morning. Two days before he had met her at the station in Albuquerque. Said his name was

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