Free Sunrise Ridge (Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Book 3) by Shirleen Davies

warm sensation in her stomach that traveled to her toes.
    “Oh, yes. I’ve been at boarding school for so long, I sometimes forget how much I miss Splendor. Do you like it here, Mr. Brandt?”
    “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
    “Have you—”
    “That’s enough, Abby,” her father cut in, settling a hand on her elbow and pulling her back toward him. “I’ll be back in a week for the order, Brandt.”
    “It’ll be ready,” Noah answered, never taking his eyes off Abby.
    As her father escorted her away, Abby remembered glancing over her shoulder at Noah, flattered to see his gaze still fixed on her. She knew nothing of love or courtship, or even much about what happened between a man and a woman. However, at that instant, she knew Noah Brandt would be someone important in her life.
    Abby opened her eyes and yawned, feeling as if she might now be able to claim sleep. She pulled back the curtain, took one more look outside, then shifted away when she spotted a man walk out of the swinging doors of the Wild Rose. He stepped into the moonlight and her breath caught. Noah. She dropped the curtain, continuing to stare.
    Even from her vantage point a floor above and across the street didn’t diminish his tall, muscular form. She watched as he glanced down the street, then moved his gaze to the boardinghouse, his head tipping up until he appeared to be looking straight at her. She flinched away before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see into her dark room through the dust-covered glass and sheer curtains.
    Noah seemed to be searching. Abby wondered if he might be trying to guess which room was hers, then shook her head at the silly thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward the livery. Abby didn’t move as he disappeared inside. Even then, her gaze stayed locked on the door to his private quarters.
    For a brief, impetuous moment, she thought of slipping into her coat and shoes and dashing across the street, pounding on his door and admitting she’d lied. She wanted to explain her true feelings and hope he might admit to returning her affections. Thankfully, she reined in her impulsive actions and turned toward her bed, slipping under the covers and shutting her eyes tight.

    “What do you mean you don’t have her?” Tolbert roared at the hired hand who’d returned with several other men from Big Pine.
    The man took a step back, fingering the brim of the hat he held in both hands. He knew if they returned without Miss Tolbert, there’d be hell to pay. Their boss wasn’t the type of man who listened to reason.
    “We watched three stages come and go, as you ordered, and when she didn’t appear, we rode back. The stage master told us a young woman got off the coach in Moosejaw, but he didn’t have a name. We could ride to Moosejaw—”
    “No,” Tolbert interrupted, slamming his fist on his desk. He had to think. “Get out,” he ordered, lowering himself into a chair, wondering where she’d gone.
    She’d always been stubborn, having her own ideas and opinions, which often conflicted with his own. Until Noah Brandt entered her life, she’d never been defiant. Tolbert believed Abigail thought she loved Brandt, but he knew otherwise. He believed Brandt to be nothing more than a tool she selected to get back at him for sending her away and controlling the direction of her life. By offering herself to Brandt, she’d found the one instrument of complete retaliation.
    The blacksmith represented everything she knew her father scorned—people in trade who used their hands to make a living. They lacked social standing and wealth and, therefore, were beneath him and Abigail.
    He stood, paced to a table, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. Pouring a good amount into a glass, he took a sip, trying to put himself in Abby’s place. Where would she go, and whom would she turn to for help? Several names came to mind, but only one made complete sense—Noah Brandt.
    Tolbert tossed back the last of the whiskey,