Free Mail Order Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) by Julianne MacLean Page B

was only their first day. Once she got used to things, she’d barely notice his presence.
    He crossed his ankle over his knee, then glanced up at her again. “Don’t you have something to do?”
    Unable to understand how a man could be so attractive in one way and so utterly contemptible in another, Sarah bit her tongue to keep from saying what she really wanted to say to him, which would not be the least bit ladylike. Maybe a hearty supper might warm his nature a bit—and hers as well.
    She turned to go inside, clinging to that hope. “Come in anytime. Food will be on the table, waiting.”
    * * *
    Briggs rubbed Shadow’s ears, then stretched his arms over his head, wishing he hadn’t sent Sarah all the way to the creek for fresh water when she was obviously exhausted. He sure did overdo it with her today. The things she told him about her ex-lover had bothered him more than he realized, he reckoned.
    He rose from the chair and pulled it back against the front wall of the house, glanced once more at the scarlet-streaked sky, then retreated with Shadow into the dark little soddie.
    “I’ll light a lantern,” he said, reaching the bottom step, then his gaze fell upon Sarah whose head was resting in her arms on the table, her eyes closed.
    Briggs crossed the room to the lamp by the bed and struck a match, breathing in the scent of sulphur as he lowered the flame to the wick. He expected Sarah to wake, startled upon seeing him in the sudden light, but the poor exhausted girl continued to sleep. His stomach roared with a reminder that he had not eaten since breakfast, and his eyes searched the stove for food.
    When he looked at the golden biscuits arranged with care on a plate, the table set with an unlit candle in the center and some fresh wildflowers in a cup, a stone of regret weighed heavily in his gut. Sarah was trying hard to make a cheerful adjustment. Why couldn’t he?
    Briggs moved to the stove and uncovered the pot to find a thick stew simmering with salt pork and potatoes. Just the smell was enough to buckle his knees. Still holding the lid, he turned to check on Sarah, who was still sleeping quietly. He looked around for a couple of tin bowls, served stew for the both of them, and set Sarah’s down first.
    “Sarah,” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
    She did not respond, so he knelt beside her chair to study her face. Her chin was cradled in her arms, her full lips puckered, her long lashes swept down. She looked so innocent. Child-like. The sight of her reminded him of happier days when June, his youngest sister, would fall asleep where she sat, usually in the middle of some game after a valiant battle to stay awake. He closed his eyes, trying to see her again. His heart at first warmed with the memory, then it flooded with sadness and longing. June would have had her fifth birthday this Christmas.
    He pushed those thoughts away and looked again at Sarah. When was her birthday? He had no idea.
    She whimpered sweetly, and he found himself wondering what in all the world she was dreaming about to be so far away that she would not awaken at his touch. He wondered if she was dreaming of the man she had loved.
    He felt a sudden jolt of irritation.
    He rose to his feet and shook Sarah again. “Sarah, wake up. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”
    She stirred, finally, and raised her chin as if in a daze. “Oh,” she murmured. “I must have fallen asleep. It’s time for supper.”
    She made a move to push her chair back, but stopped when Briggs said, “I’ve already taken it up.”
    She leaned back, blinking. Then she noticed the bowl in front of her. “Thank you, but I could have gotten it.”
    He gathered his bowl of stew from the stove and sat across from her. “I know.”
    Sarah cupped her hands together, pausing before lifting her spoon. Feeling ill-at-ease, Briggs realized that prayer was something he’d forgotten over the past few months, ever since he’d stopped