Playing Herd to Get Read online

  Playing Herd to Get

  The Bride Herder Book Seven

  Natalie Dean

  Kenzo Publishing

  © Copyright 2019 by Kenzo Publishing - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate this book to YOU! The readers of my books. Without your interest in reading these heartwarming stories of love, I wouldn’t have made it this far. So thank you so much for taking the time to read any and hopefully all of my books.

  And I can’t leave out my wonderful mother, son, sister, and Auntie. I love you all, and thank you for helping me make this happen.

  Most of all, I thank God for blessing me on this endeavor.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Other books by Natalie Dean & Eveline Hart

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  About Author - Natalie Dean

  Chapter 1

  1890 Bent, Colorado

  Adeline Miller loved the feeling of a blank page. She smoothed her fingers across the surface, the slight swooshing sound making her smile, and picked up her pencil. Inhaling a breath of sweet-scented hay and the faint musk of horses, Adeline took in the scene before her.

  Lush, green pastureland led up to the base of the Rocky Mountains just outside of Bent, Colorado. If she squinted, she could make out the dense copse of trees that congregated at the bend of the river nearest her and led to the denser forest beyond. The sight never failed to take her breath away.

  It was so unlike Richmond, Virginia.

  The memory of home brought an ache with it, one she wasn’t ready to face. Biting her lip, she forced her focus down to the page before her. It was ready to accept her words, but what was there to say?

  She could write about the chores she’d been assigned. Or the beauty of the area—though she’d used that as her muse more times than she cared to count. She could also recount one of the many funny tales that Clarence—or Beans as everyone called him—told after dinner was served. Any of these options appealed to her more than the thought of her family or her missed opportunities, but the topic her mind brought her back to surprised her.

  A husband. Or, perhaps, the lack of one.

  Adeline let out a huffed sigh and dropped her pencil into the folds of her skirt. No matter how hard she tried or how many times she pestered poor Chance Redburn, she could not get a straight answer out of the man as to her fate, married or otherwise.

  It had all been understandable when they first arrived. Or, to be frank, she had understood the situation while other girls had been less forgiving. To be sure, Adeline had been caught off guard, but she’d understood. For a time. But wasn’t it time for Mr. Redburn to step fully into his role as matchmaker in his aunt's place? And didn’t that mean that all of the women his aunt had brought out west would gain the husband they’d been promised?

  A bitterness entered her mouth, and she licked her lips as if the action could whisk away the taste and the thoughts. Hadn’t her tune changed? She blew out a puff of breath that made her bangs fly up and drop back down onto her forehead. She had not desired a husband, at least not through the means her father had attempted to acquire one for her.

  Alfred Miller, while a kind and caring father to Adeline and her two sisters, was not a patient man. Perhaps his job as an esteemed railroad tycoon had convinced him that his every desire could be fulfilled if enough money was thrown at it, but it seemed a husband for his eldest—and as of yet unmarried—daughter was simply not one of those things.

  She could remember the day he approached her in the sitting room with his ‘news.’ He’d been all smiles and compliments. He’d mentioned how lovely her dress was. Asked if her hair was done in a new style. Asked if she’d like a new pair of shoes. Then he’d dropped the news of his ‘surprise’ with all the grace of a speeding steam engine. She was to be married by a well-known matchmaker in the West.

  He’d assured her that it was much better than that ‘mail-order bride business,’ as he’d put it. It was time, he told her, to assume the responsibility of married life. As if a woman only found her role in life by taking another’s name.

  While he hadn’t stated it outright, Adeline knew that her father compared her to her sisters. At sixteen and nineteen and already married, her sisters had proven that twenty-two-year-old Adeline was already behind in life. Not to mention her odd obsession with journalism and writing. Yet another thing her father didn’t understand nor approve of.

  And now, here she was, surrounded by the natural beauty of the West but still without a husband. At least she had her journal.

  Her gaze returned to the blank page before her, and she retrieved her pencil, newly sharpened by Beans. Perhaps writing out her questions about her future husband would ease some of the restlessness she’d felt over the last few days as some of the girls had found their perfect match, some in not-so-perfect ways, but ultimately, she’d seen happiness in them. A happiness she found she craved.

  Her pencil touched paper.

  It is at times such as these that I desire to understand more of who I am by exploring the deepest feelings within myself on this page. It is an odd pursuit, one I am not naturally accustomed to, to focus so exclusively upon myself. While it is true that I can accurately compose my thoughts upon many subjects into coherent prose, I cannot always mine the depths of my own soul for contemplation.

  Thus, this will be my crude attempt at self-reflection:

  1) I feel as if I have been forgotten—perhaps by both my family and by Mr. Redburn. It is a difficult feeling, to be sure.

  2) Ashamed though I may be to admit this, the green monster of jealousy has reared her ugly head as I watch my fellow travelers find their match. Were I to respond to this in one of my practical advice column articles, I would likely tell myself to be happy for my neighbor and stop focusing on what I lack and instead on what I have. Would that it could be that easy.

  3) I find the qualities that most draw me to a man are as follows: Confidence, self-assuredness, decisiveness, skill, kindness, and (dare I say it) handsomeness.

  4)I sometimes wonder if such qualities can exist in one mere man.

  5) I fear Beans comes by his name too honestly—please, dear God, let us have something other than beans for dinner tonight.

  Adeline dropped her pencil back into her lap, observing her somewhat-successful self-ref
lections, though noting with a sigh that she’d gotten somewhat off track at the end. Then again, she’d stated plainly at the beginning that she didn’t often do this type of writing.

  “Miss Miller?” Her name yanked her gaze from the page to collide with that of Beans, the cook. “Is it too much trouble to ask you to give me a hand with supper?”

  “Not at all,” she said, closing her journal and pocketing the pencil. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Thank ya kindly.” He nodded and shuffled back toward the kitchen.

  Was this to be her fate? To help in the kitchen and watch every other young woman matched with an eligible gentleman? Letting out another sigh, something she’d been doing too often recently, she stood and turned toward the kitchen.

  Perhaps one thing she wished for would come true today—maybe Beans would make something different for dinner.

  “Here I am, ready and willing to help.”

  “Good, good,” he said, not looking up from the bread he was kneading. “Mind stirring that pot of beans on the stove there?”

  Then again, maybe things had stopped going her way the day she left Richmond for a new life in the West.

  Harley Swinney looked out over his herd of cattle grazing among the tall grasses and let out a contented sigh.

  “You’d be proud, Pa,” he whispered to the wind, readjusting his Stetson before pulling the reins of his horse back. He’d spent enough time lost in thought this morning and needed to get back to the ranch.

  Still…

  He took one long, surveying look around. He knew what he’d said was true. His father would have been proud to see what Harley had done to build up the ranch, fill it out, and improve where there was need.

  The Swinney Cattle Ranch had gone from making ends meet to profitable, or relatively so, in just the last few years. It was a shame Ma and Pa couldn’t be here to see what he’d built—it was for them, in a sense.

  He thought of how Pa would ride an extra turn around the fences some days just to double-check that things were all right. And how he’d taught Harley everything he knew about cattle ranching, starting almost before Harley could walk. Ma had always chided his father that there was more to life than ranching, but neither of them believed that.

  And Ma—a special ache pushed into his chest at the thought of his mother’s loving smile, ready word of kindness, and almost-psychic intuition when Harley needed a hug because she knew he’d never ask for it.

  Even now, Harley could close his eyes and feel her firm arms around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

  Taking in a deep breath, he forced his eyes open. Reminiscing didn’t do him or the ranch any good. In fact, it likely distracted him from work that needed to be done, improvements to be made, and business decisions to make. There was no room for softness—especially not the memory of how his mother’s home-cooked meals tasted.

  He could hear the boy’s ribbing now. They couldn’t believe that he was twenty-seven and not married. They chided him every chance they got. He’d finally put a stop to them pointing out every potentially-available woman in town, at church, at the hotel, or even from the porch of the Hair of the Dog—not that he spent time there.

  The fact that he didn’t have time for leisurely card games or idle gossip proved that he didn’t have time for a woman.

  He spurred his horse forward, the hoofbeats of the animal loud against the mornings quiet. He loved this time of day when the world still seemed fresh and the possibility to get more done laid out before him like a freshly finished quilt.

  Up ahead, he saw a few of his ranch hands congregating at the wagon. They’d go into town for some supplies today, but he’d stay back. He had plans to go over for the back pasture and the potential of purchasing another section of land from his neighbor. He also needed to run numbers and—

  “Hey, boss,” Johnny said, flagging him down with his bandana.

  “What is it, Johnny?” Harley didn’t like the worried look in his worker's eyes.

  “Otis isn’t doin’ very good.”

  Harley bit back a curse, an out of character habit for him, and instead took another deep breath. “What do you mean? Was he out at the saloon last night?” He’d told his workers time and time again—

  “No, nothing like that. He’s sweatin’ and moaning about how his stomach hurts and,” the man swallowed, looking queasy himself, “he’s not doing good.”

  Resignation took over, and Harley nodded. “Have Beau fetch the doc when you all go into town.”

  “We’re gonna be shorthanded,” the man said, shifting on his feet.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said, offering a forced smile to reassure Johnny.

  “You got it, boss.” He set off back toward the wagon, and Harley rubbed a hand over his face before steering his horse toward the barn.

  Just what he needed. Yet another ranch hand sick. He was the second in the last two months, though the first had a liking to too much whiskey and not enough common sense to know when to stop. It sounded like Otis had fallen prey to something worse, which meant his recovery time would be longer as well.

  After taking off his horse's saddle, brushing her down, and feeding her, Harley went inside the house to look at reference letters again. He’d gotten several from an advertisement he’d put in the local paper, but he’d only needed one man at the time. Perhaps it would be prudent to hire another even if Otis recovered more quickly than expected.

  When his stomach growled an hour later, Harley realized he hadn’t yet had breakfast. He meandered into the kitchen and found a leftover plate of biscuits and gravy, now cold. Not much caring what the temperature was, he shoveled the food down and was about to go back to work when a knock sounded on his door.

  Perhaps the doc had made better time than he’d expected. He took long strides to the door and blinked in surprise when he opened it to see Chance Redburn.

  “Chance? What are you doing out this way?”

  “Mornin’ to you too,” Chance said with a grin. “May I come in for a minute?”

  “’Course,” Harley said, stepping back to let the man inside. “Afraid I don’t have anything to eat at the moment. Everyone’s gone into town for supplies.”

  “Don’t need anything,” Chance said. “Beans takes real good care of all of us.”

  Harley tried to bite back his grin. He, along with the rest of the town, had heard of Chance’s inheritance. More like trouble, if Harley had a say. When Chance’s Aunt Viola had passed away, she’d not only left him her home, but her business, which happened to entail a whole herd of unmarried women come on the train ready to be matched with grooms. Harley didn’t envy the man one bit having to deal with all those emotional females. Give him cattle and land any day instead of the needs of a woman.

  “Have a seat.” Harley indicated the chair opposite him at the kitchen table.

  “Thanks.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  A sly grin slipped onto Chance’s lips, and he leaned forward. “Today is your lucky day.”

  “Pardon?” Harley’s eyebrows rose.

  “As you know, I’ve taken over my aunt’s business,” he cringed, belying the reality Chance was facing each day as Harley had expected. “And while it’s been a challenge, to be sure, there’s been some good things happening too. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of my matches.”

  He looked…proud. That was the only way that Harley could put it, though he wasn’t sure if Chance had been that instrumental in the matchmaking if rumors could be believed. Then again, what did Harley know about any of this?

  “I’m sure it’s been…rewarding.” That sounded like a statement his mother would have approved of. She was always his guide to social cues in situations that didn’t involve cattle or the ranch.

  “It sure has. And your time has finally come.”

  Harley balanced. “My…time?”

  “Yep. I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting, but I’ve had a bear of a tim
e going through all of my aunt's files and papers and whatnot. I came across your name the other day and said to myself I had to move you up the line. But don’t worry; I think you’re going to approve.”

  It felt like all of the air had been purged from the room. Was it getting hotter in the kitchen? Harley grasped for words as he tried to suck in a free breath.

  “Approve? Approve of wh-what?”

  “Your bride, of course.”

  Chapter 2

  “You’re saying tomorrow. As in the day after today?”

  “Yes. Midmorning, if that’s amenable.” Chance smiled, but something about it seemed off, as if the action didn’t reach his eyes. Then again, it was possible Adeline was seeing—and maybe hearing—things.

  “Just like that?”

  There was that smile again. “You’ll meet first, and we’ll see what happens after. Thank you for your patience, Adeline. I know it’s been…different than what you imagined, but Mr. Swinney is a good man.” Chance nodded once, patted her on the shoulder like an elderly man, and left the back porch with purposeful strides.

  Was it possible that she’d sat in this very place only a little over a week ago lamenting her current situation only to have things change so drastically now? She would be meeting her match tomorrow.