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The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride): Western Brides of Virginia, #2
The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride): Western Brides of Virginia, #2
The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride): Western Brides of Virginia, #2
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The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride): Western Brides of Virginia, #2

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Mail Order Bride: The Cowboy Wanted For Murder, A Clean Western Historical Romance (Western Brides of Virginia, Book 2)

The year is 1870 and Hertha Henson, a typical preacher’s daughter decides to become a Mail Order Bride.

Hertha teaches in the town school house, a job her overprotective father secured for her. But she’s never fought for anything. More than anything, she wants an adventure.

When Hertha heads west to marry Raswell Walden, a young rancher trying to overcome his secret past, her adventure grows dangerous.

With their lives in jeopardy, Hertha and Raswell learn to trust both God and each other, falling in love as they go.

When Raswell’s past comes for him to the present, will he be strong enough to fight back? Will Hertha stand with him?

***Leah White writes clean Historical Western Mail Order Bride Romance books***

LanguageEnglish
PublisherLeah White
Release dateNov 17, 2016
ISBN9781524252915
The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride): Western Brides of Virginia, #2

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    Book preview

    The Cowboy Wanted For Murder (Mail Order Bride) - Leah White

    Introduction

    This is the second book in the Western Brides of Virginia Series. This is Hertha 's story. All three books can be read alone. They are complete stories but if you would like to read them in order:

    ●  Josiephine 's story is book one. Read Josiephine 's story here: The Cowboy's Bride With A Dark Secret.

    ●  Hertha’s story is book two. Read Hertha’s story here: "The Cowboy Wanted For Murder."

    ●  Anastacia’s story is book three. Read Anastacia’s story here: The Cowboy's Arrogant Beautiful Bride.

    Chapter 1

    Culpeper Virginia, January 1870

    Hertha Henson sighed dramatically as the last child fled the school for the day. She was so tired, but she still had to correct the children's’ papers. It was rather ironic to think that her father had gotten her the teaching position.

    She smiled, remembering the day the preacher had secured the teaching position for her. He’d said he didn’t want her working hard at the mercantile and he’d be thrown into the fiery pit before his daughter would work at a boarding house.

    A cold wind tore through the walls of the little school house, and Hertha stood, flinging her arms into her coat. She wrapped her gray scarf around her neck, mourning the bland color. What she liked was blue. What was permissible for a teacher were black, white, and gray.

    Snatching the papers and books from her desk, she ran for the door, hoping to be at the boarding house before supper. She always managed to be late, usually because she had to stay until the last student was gone.

    It was a bitingly cold day out, the sort where every breath claws its way into your lungs. The thin layer of ice atop the knee-deep snow shattered under Hertha’s feet as she trudged onward. There were five miles between the school and the boarding house. It would take nearly two hours to cover the distance.

    As was her custom, the preacher’s daughter prayed as she made her way home. She sought direction.

    Lord, you know I’ve never done a thing for myself. I’ve never had an adventure or even left Culpeper. Please, show me what to do.

    Hertha went on like this until she was so out of breath that the words wouldn’t come properly. She could feel her face growing red from the cold, her fingers and toes numbing. Perhaps this would be the day she’d arrive at the boarding house with frostbite. Mrs. Sheeley always warned her about it.

    By the time Hertha arrived at the boarding house, the sun had begun to set, and the time for supper had come and gone. She let out a groan of frustration, hurrying to put her things in her room. After dropping everything on her bed, she dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen, hoping to find a snack.

    Entering the kitchen, she found Mrs. Sheeley, who held a large bowl of beef stew and a plate of bread. Hertha’s mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten since dinner, and even then she’d given the majority of her food to Johnny, a little boy who seldom brought any food of his own.

    Well, Miss Henson, how would your father feel if he knew you were traipsing about in the snow?

    Hertha glanced down at her wet skirts and pink fingers. She was sure that her face was pink as well.

    "He would probably feel as though his family was a scandal and his daughter more than

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