Free The Cowboy's Mail Order Bride by Carolyn Brown

vintage pantsuits.
    “Y’all might as well watch from the sidelines. Me and Madge are the winners tonight,” Dotty announced. “And if I win, I get…”
    Clarice shot a look across the living room before Dotty could finish.
    Dotty threw up both palms to ward off the dirty look. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t going to say a fifth of Jack. Lord, if I even look at a bottle again, you’ll make me go to those damned old meetings and I ain’t got time to listen to folks stand up and tell me their problems. I was going to say that I was going to treat myself to one of them fancy massages when we go get our hair done this week,” Dotty said, then leaned over and cupped her hand over Emily’s ear. “Don’t you tattle on me, but I catch a couple of meetings a month at the church. It’s good for me to go to them and helps keep me sober, but I’ll be hanged if they know it.”
    Emily pulled several bills from her shirt pocket. “Does my money go on the center of the table?”
    Clarice frowned at Greg. “I told you to tell her on the way to the stables that we don’t really play for money.”
    Emily popped him on the shoulder and stuffed the bills back in her pocket.
    He grabbed his bicep and moaned. “Nana, I can’t play. She’s done broke my arm.”
    “Bullshit,” Dotty said. “And if it is broke, suck it up and play with the other hand.”
    “Why’d you tell her that we play for money?” Madge asked.
    “It was a test to see if she really thought she was any good. I didn’t want a partner who couldn’t hold her own. I figured if she was willing to bring money to the game, then she might not be all hat and no cowgirl.”
    Emily held her hands in her lap to keep from blowing on the one that had touched his arm. Dammit! How did just a simple two-second slap create so much heat? “What made you think I’d be your partner?”
    “I knew they’d draw because they only set up one table tonight and you never know what the draw might do,” he answered.
    “You kids stop fighting. We’re here to play, so hush and let’s get serious about this so we can eat,” Rose said and then leaned over to whisper in Madge’s ear like little girls on the playground.
    Emily heard something about new girl on western, but that was all she caught.
    “We play for fun, but the loser has to host the next domino night. Last week Clarice lost, so she’s hosting tonight. I love it when she loses because Dotty cooks when she does,” Madge explained.
    Madge was built on a square frame—almost as wide as she was tall. Her round face sported a weak chin, a wide forehead, and narrow-set green eyes that sparkled when she talked. She wore an orange Western-cut shirt out over her stretch jeans. Her bright orange wedge heels had enough bling on the toes to blind a person.
    “You play and I’ll advise, okay?” Rose asked Greg.
    “You’re better than I am,” he said.
    “That’s why I’m going to advise you. Besides, I lose track of the score when I gossip, and I’ve got stories to tell,” Rose said.
    All three of the other women shot her a look and she giggled. “Some stories you tell and some you keep close for another day.”
    Clarice turned to Emily. “You play and I’ll sit back and boss. Now what do you know, Rose, that can be shared in present company? Come on, tell us, what is it?”
    Madge sat down in the chair nearest the table and started to shuffle. “You can be the silent partner tonight, Dotty.” Then she leaned over, cupped her hand over Dotty’s ear, and whispered something about farmers and a looker.
    Dotty poured the dominoes out of a velvet drawstring bag and turned them over. “I ain’t never been silent about anything. Oprah called it multitasking when she was on the television.”
    “Wow!” Emily said.
    She’d never seen gold-plated dominoes with colored stones instead of dots.
    Clarice leaned over and whispered, “It’s fake gold and the stones are colored glass. They aren’t real