Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series)

Read Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Online

Authors: Margaret Brownley

Tags: #ebook, #book

Acclaim for Margaret Brownley

“Margaret Brownley’s
Dawn Comes Early
was an absolute delight. I spent the whole book reading with a grin on my face. She found wonderful characters and made them real to me and made a bleak desert landscape alive and beautiful. It’s been a long time since I had this much pure fun reading a book.”

—M
ARY
C
ONNEALY, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF
O
UT
OF
C
ONTROL
AND
P
ETTICOAT
R
ANCH

“Margaret Brownley draws vivid characters that are sparkling and endearing. They drew me into their lives and I don’t want to let them go. Thank goodness
Dawn Comes Early
is the first in her Last Chance Ranch stories. Like me, you’ll be glad this isn’t our last chance to visit!”

—D
EBRA
C
LOPTON, AUTHOR OF THE BEST-SELLING
M
ULE
H
OLLOW
M
ATCHMAKERS SERIES

“. . . Brownley has a way with words that keeps the reader interested until the last page.”


R
OMANTIC
T
IMES
REVIEW OF
A
SUITOR FOR
J
ENNY

“I’ve known for years that Margaret Brownley is a great writer but I think
A Lady Like Sarah
is Margaret at her peak. A perfect blend of romance, the old west, and characters that steal your heart, along with writing that sings. A fabulous read. I laughed and cried and wished I could pick up the sequel immediately. Write faster, Margaret.”

—L
AURAINE
S
NELLING, AUTHOR OF
T
HE
R
ED
R
IVER OF THE
N
ORTH SERIES

“Margaret Brownley has created two wonderful, unforgettable characters in Sarah and Justin. Their story held my interest from the start, and I couldn’t wait to find out if or how their love would overcome the obstacles set before them.
A Lady Like Sarah
is one of my favorite reads of this year.”

—R
OBIN
L
EE
H
ATCHER, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF
F
IT TO
B
E
T
IED
AND
H
EART OF
G
OLD

“Margaret Brownley brings the old west to life through her humor, drama, and memorable characters.
A Lady Like Sarah
is completely enjoyable from beginning to end.”

—J
ILL
M
ARIE
L
ANDIS, AUTHOR OF
H
EART OF
S
TONE

W
AITING FOR

Morning

A
LSO BY
M
ARGARET
B
ROWNLEY

The Brides of Last Chance Ranch novels

Dawn Comes Early

The Rocky Creek Romance series

A Lady Like Sarah

A Suitor for Jenny

A Vision of Lucy

W
AITING FOR

Morning

A B
RIDES OF
L
AST
C
HANCE
R
ANCH
N
OVEL

M
ARGARET
B
ROWNLEY

© 2012 by Margaret Brownley

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Brownley, Margaret.

   Waiting for morning / Margaret Brownley.

      pages cm. -- (A brides of Last Chance Ranch novel)

   ISBN 978-1-59554-970-9 (trade paper : alk. paper)

   I. Title.

   PS3602.R745W35 2013

   813’.6--dc23

2012038041

Printed in the United States of America

12 13 14 15 16 17 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1

To my husband, partner, and best friend, George, for your love, patience, and willingness to eat out. God gave me the world when He gave me you!

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Meet Magic

Discussion Questions

Acknowledgments

An excerpt from Gunpowder Tea

About the Author

HEIRESS

WANTED

Looking for hard-working, professional woman of good character and pleasant disposition willing to learn the ranching business in Arizona Territory. Must be single and prepared to remain so now and forevermore.

Chapter 1

D
OBSON
C
REEK
, C
OLORADO

A
PRIL
1896

S
omething was wrong. Molly Hatfield felt it in her bones. She cast an anxious glance around Big Jim’s Saloon. A couple of regulars were already passed out; others sat staring into
amber drinks. It was one o’clock in the afternoon, a time when most
men were at the mines.

On this cold April day, icy wind blew off the snow-covered peaks and the batwing doors squeaked in protest. Sawdust raced across the tobacco-stained floor, clinging to wooden chair legs and the soles of dusty boots.

Shaking away her uneasiness, Molly turned back to the burly owner standing behind the bar. If he detected anything out of the ordinary, he kept it to himself. He didn’t even seem to notice the lace tucked in her bodice for modesty. He insisted his “girls” dress in costume at all times, including face paint, even when not working.

A stogie clamped between his yellow teeth, he squinted down his bulbous nose and counted out each pitiful coin as if doing her a favor.

Her lips puckered with irritation. What pleasure could he get from making her beg for her weekly wage? Or did he simply enjoy the power he held over his dance hall girls? The truth was Molly needed him more than he needed her.

“Please hurry.” Why the sudden need for haste she didn’t know, but she was anxious to get back to her fourteen-year-old wheelchairbound brother. Not wanting to bring one so young to the saloon, she’d left him waiting in the lobby of the King Hotel, out of the cold. She’d done it before and he’d always been safe there. Still . . .

Big Jim’s bushy black eyebrows met in an upside-down V, but any effort to pick up speed was negligible.

From outside came the dreaded sound of pistol shots—six loud blasts in rapid succession, snapping through the air like an angry whip.

Molly sucked in her breath and Jim’s head jerked back, hands frozen over the till. Six gunshots meant fire and fire meant trouble.

Thinking fast, she scooped the money from the bar without waiting for the full count and darted out of the saloon.

People screamed and raced by, practically knocking her over. While pocketing her precious coins she dropped one, but to dive for it would be sheer folly. She would be trampled to death.

“Fire, fire!” someone shouted as if the gunshots hadn’t already sounded the alarm.

“Where’s the fire?” she cried.
Please, God, don’t let it be the hotel. Not the hotel.

“The King!” someone yelled.

Dear God!

Heart pounding, Molly swam against the stream of people. Swallowing the metallic taste filling her mouth, she lashed out, “Let me through. Let me through!”

She plowed headlong into the oncoming crowd with windmilling arms. She’d failed to save her brother once but—
please, God
—not this time.
Don’t let me fail him this time.

Horses whinnied and pulled at traces. Dogs barked. A steer barreled down the street followed by several frenzied goats. A man shoved bills into the hands of a wagon owner and signaled for several children to pile inside.

Billows of dark smoke loomed over the red light district, turning gray skies almost black. Pushed by biting, raw winds, the fire quickly leaped jackrabbit-style along Benson Avenue with a fierce roar, gobbling up the wood-framed buildings that made up the heart of town. The clanging of bells and pounding of horses’ hooves signaled the arrival of the shiny new fire engine, the mayor’s pride and joy. Several men dragged an old pumper up the street, its heavy iron wheels skidding on the icy road.

Mine whistles shrieked in the distance and already miners poured into the street with buckets and shovels.

“Let me through,” Molly cried. Smoke burned her eyes. Her vision blurred. “My brother is at the hotel. Will somebody please help?”

“Good luck, lady,” a man yelled out.

A drunk stood in the doorway of the drugstore laughing his fool head off.

The closer she got to the hotel, the thicker the smoke. Molly pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and covered her mouth. A man dressed in a canvas coat waved her back with a stick of dynamite.

“Ya better run, lassie.”

Already, the dynamiters were getting ready to blow up houses and businesses around the hotel in an attempt to stop the fire.

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