Free No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) by Nerys Leigh

creased her brow as she thought about that. She’d known Adam for less than twenty-four hours and already she’d grown fond of the idea of being around him. That wasn’t in her plan. Admittedly, though, her plan was on shaky ground right now.
    At the sound of men’s voices Amy looked up from the ground. Without realising, she’d wandered right to the very edge of town. A large, barn-like structure stood ahead of her, a sign above the door identifying it as Parson’s Livery. She didn’t know if this was the place he meant, but she remembered Isaiah mentioning the person who owned the livery was looking for help. Working with horses wouldn’t be so bad. Even though she’d never ridden one, she liked horses.
    Perking up, she increased her speed.
    “Not sure as I can pay more’n six dollars a week. I know people would be more likely to want the job if there were more hours, but that’s stretching it for me as it is.”
    “Well, George, I’ll ask around, but I don’t know who’ll be interested. But I’ll ask.”
    An older man emerged from the livery entrance, lifting his hat and nodding a greeting as he passed her. Amy walked up to the large double doors and peered in. A man was close to the entrance, his back to her. He was shorter than Adam, but with a larger build, probably from years of hard physical labour. His dark hair was greying and unkempt, falling below his collar.
    She stepped forward and looked around the interior of the large building. Stalls lined the walls, all of them empty. A set of double doors stood directly opposite her and she could see a glimpse of fences, grass and blue sky. Riding equipment and saddles hung from hooks dotted around the walls.
    The whole place smelled of horse and manure. Mostly manure.
    “Can I help you, Miss?”
    Amy jumped, startled. She hadn’t realised the man had turned around. His face was what could only be described as craggy, the bottom half hidden by facial hair that looked less like an intentional beard and more like he simply hadn’t shaved in a few days. It was hard to judge his age, but she guessed at somewhere around fifty. As his brown eyes studied her, she couldn’t help feeling she was being judged in some way.
    “Um, yes, Sir.” She stood up straight, offering up a quick prayer for strength. “I heard you were looking to hire someone. May I ask what the job is?”
    He folded his arms and leaned his hip against an old, battered table standing next to the door. Pieces of paper and a leather-bound ledger were scattered across the top.
    “Well, it’s for general help in the livery here, looking after the horses, mucking out the stalls, cleaning, that sort of thing. You know anyone who might be interested? Pays six dollars a week for eight hours work a day, Saturdays and Sundays off.”
    Amy smiled, trying to exude confidence she didn’t feel. “Yes. I would like to apply for the job.”
    The man looked confused. “You want to apply on someone’s behalf?”
    “No, I want to apply for myself. I want to do the job.”
    The man stared at her for a few seconds. Then he burst into laughter, holding his hands to his stomach as if to contain his guffaws.
    Amy frowned. “What’s so funny?”
    His laughter petered out and he wiped one hand across his eyes. “What’s so funny? You asking me to hire a girl, and a slip of a girl at that, to do man’s work, that’s what’s funny. Go and try the general store or the laundry or the bakery, little girl.”
    Amy put her hands on her hips. “I may not be as strong as a man, but I can work hard. And I can certainly muck out horses and clean this place.” She gave an exaggerated sniff. “And from what I can smell, it is sorely in need of it.”
    His smile disappeared and he shook his head. “Go away, girl. I don’t have time for games.” He turned away.
    Amy stared at his back, tears of frustration burning her eyes. She whirled round and strode away, shame and humiliation driving her steps.
    Stop.
    The