Marie Owen yearns for a loving husband, but Colorado Territory is long on rough characters and short on fitting suitors, so a future of spinsterhood seems more likely than wedded bliss. Her best friend says cowboy Bill Henry is a likely candidate, but Marie knows her class-conscious father would not allow such a pairing. When she challenges her father to find her a suitable husband before she becomes a spinster, he arranges a match with a neighbor's son. Then Marie discovers Tom Morgan would be an unloving, abusive mate and his mother holds a grudge against the Owen family. Marie's mounting despair at the prospect of being trapped in such a dismal marriage drives her into the arms of a sweet-talking predator, landing her in unimaginable dangers.
This fourth book in the Owen Family Saga is infused with potent heart and intense grit.
You can purchase online at http://www.amazon.com/Marsha-Ward/e/B003RB9P9/ or https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/marshaward.
About the Author
Marsha Ward was born in Phoenix, Arizona, and currently lives in a pine forest in central Arizona. She is an award-winning poet, freelance writer and editor whose published work includes four novels, two collaborative non-fiction books on writing, a collection of prose and poetry, and over 900 articles, columns, poems and short stories. Her novels, The Man from Shenandoah, Ride to Raton, Trail of Storms, and the brand-new Spinster’s Folly have received rave reviews from both readers and reviewers.
To learn more about Marsha and her books, check her out online.
Website: http://marshaward.com
Author Blog: http://marshaward.blogspot.com
Character Blog: http://
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaWard
Check out a sample scene from Spinster's Folly and then order today! I congratulate Marsha on another excellent novel!
Marie
turned and stalked off toward the plank tables set out under the oak trees
nearby. When Ma had found out Carl was rising from his bed to get married, she
had bustled about—with the aid of Rulon’s Mary—and put together a special
wedding dinner. Well, special, if you count honey drizzled on corn cakes as
special. Add the meat pulled from the bones of a few roasted chickens, gallons
of milk, cold from sitting in stone crocks in the spring, and the meal could
pass as special.
No
matter what irritating things Julianna may say, Marie couldn’t take the time to
tussle with her. There was aplenty of work to do today. Even so, she felt
burgeoning anger consuming her good sense as she eyed a washtub full of tableware
sitting on the grass beside the table. Which of her brothers had left the
dishes on the ground instead of putting them on the table? Inconsiderate
clod! She bent over, pulled a stack of tin plates from the tub, and slammed
them onto the table. Her ears rang with the cacophonous sound. She retrieved a
second bunch of plates, dropped them onto the first pile, then grabbed a double
handful of tin cups, which she banged down on the planks, not caring if she
dented them.
After
a few moments of rebellion, reveling in the clinks and clanks of the tinware,
she straightened up, put her hands at her waist and stretched her back. Then
she blew an escaping lock of hair out of her eyes and twisted the kinks out of
her neck. Remembering that—despite Carl and Ellen’s hasty withdrawal—there were
still plenty of folks to feed, served to pull her out of her misery and helped
her transform back into sensible, responsible Marie.
The
Spanish priest robed in brown was the first to enter the shade under the oak
trees, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The Texas
Marie
hurried to get behind the food-laden table to serve as her younger brothers
pushed and shoved to position themselves at the head of the line in order to
grab generous portions. Marie smacked the backs of their hands with the bowl of
the honey spoon.
“Ow!”
howled Albert. “There’s no call to beat me.”
“Guests
first,” she replied, pointing with the spoon. “Get yourselves to the back of
the line.”
Clay
licked honey off the back of his hand and glared at Marie, but obeyed without a
word.
Mr.
Bates escorted the priest to the head of the now-orderly line, accompanied by
many polite gestures on the part of both men. Marie smiled at the priest,
racking her brain for something to say, then, as she heaped his plate,
remembered a Spanish word she’d heard recently. “Señor,” she said, and made a
bobbing sort of curtsey.
“Muchas
gracias, muy amable,” he said, smiling back at her and making little
crosses in the air over the food table.
“Muchas
grachius,” she parroted back, wondering what she’d just said as the priest
moved on.
By
and by, everyone who had crowded around the table had their plates full, and
all were engaged in seeking places to sit to devour the comestibles. After
consolidating the leftovers, Marie picked up a plate and fork.
Just
then, an excited voice called from the woods, “Hey, James is riding the
mustang!” The Owen brothers and the cowboys abandoned their plates and cups on
the grass and hurried off to see the spectacle.
Marie
watched them go, then forked up a bit of chicken, put a corn cake on her plate,
and drenched it with honey. She found a place to sit by herself on the grass,
and bit into the sweetened breadstuff. The bland corn cake reminded her of all
such dry mouthfuls she’d endured in the years since Lincoln ’s
Northern soldiers had come marching into Virginia
Young
Roddy, Rulon’s boy, came galloping under the oaks astride a stick Pa had fitted
with a stuffed horse head made of burlap. “The horsie bucked,” he announced in
a high, shrill voice. “Unca James fell off.” He pranced around his mother.
“Mama, he said bad words.”
Marie
didn’t fight the chortle the boy’s comment brought upon her. I reckon he did,
she thought, covering her mouth. James don’t like blemishes on his reputation
as a horseman. She watched Mary bend over and exhort her son about sticking
close to her. That baby’s growin’ up. Good thing Mary’s got a new wee one to
dote on.
Her
good humor faded as her heart constricted. She had empty arms and no prospects
for a man to help her fill them with a babe of her own. She wondered if
Julianna’s words about her being an old maid had any truth. She was eighteen
years old, after all. She closed her eyes and felt a chill move up her spine.
Rulon
had taken Mary to wife years ago, just before he went to the war. Roddy had
come along in the due course of time. Now Carl had wed Ellen. When was her time
to marry and have a family? Had it passed her by when Virginia Colorado Territory
Marie
opened her eyes as she heard a murmur of male voices and a few laughs.
Evidently the show at the corral was over. The cowboys drifted back to the
serving table and piled their plates a second time.
She
shook off her somber thoughts and wondered if she should take Carl and Ellen a
bite of dinner. Surely, with Carl so sorely wounded, the two of them wouldn’t
be in a romantic frame of mind.
But
what if they were? She wouldn’t dare interrupt their honeymoon.
“Oh
claptrap,” she muttered. “If Carl’s hungry, Ellen will fetch something to feed
him.”
“I
reckon that’s so,” a male voice said. “May I refill your plate, Miss Marie?”
Drawing
in a gasp of air and jerking to attention, Marie almost spilled the food
remaining on her plate to the ground. Bill Henry!
It
took her a moment to recover from her surprise at his overture, but she
eventually replied, “I . . . reckon I have plenty to eat here, thank you, Mr.
Henry. You’re most obliging to ask.”
“Not
even a cup of milk?”
“No.
No, I’m real content.” She smoothed her woolen skirt, brushing at a wrinkle.
“Well
then, would it be amiss if I joined you here while I ate?”
“Ma
might need me,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to figure out how to get to her
feet in a ladylike manner.
“I
reckon she’s otherwise occupied, bidding folks good-bye,” Mr. Henry said,
looking in Mrs. Owen’s direction. She stood near a cluster of horses, talking
to Mrs. Bates.
“Suit
yourself,” Marie murmured, wishing she didn’t feel so flustered. Bill Henry was
a mighty good-looking man, with those deep blue eyes sparkling in his broad,
tanned face. But if he had courtship in mind, he was wasting his time talking
her. Pa wasn’t likely to give his consent to a match of his daughter with a
cowhand. Except it’s very likely Pa hasn’t given me much thought at all.
He has always worried first about setting his boys up in life. Be that
as it may, all the world knew that sooner or later, Mr. Henry was heading back
to Texas
Now
he sat beside her in one smooth movement and tucked into his food. After
chewing up a bite of dark chicken meat, he swallowed and looked at her.
“Surprising doin’s today.” He gestured in the direction of Carl’s cabin. “Your
brother’s got pluck to stand up on that leg and get married.”
“There’s
no shortness of pluck amongst my brothers, Mr. Henry,” Marie said, measuring
her words. “Every single one of them is stuffed full of it. You’d think it
would run out their ears, they’re so plucky.” The last word almost exploded
from her lips. Exasperation unexpectedly rose up like gall in her throat. “Pa
built it into them from the time they were in short pants.”
“Whoa
there.” Mr. Henry held up his hands. “What did I say to cause you hurt, miss?”
She
picked at a stem of grass beside her skirt, pulling it to pieces, playing for
time to settle her voice into more suitable tones. She glanced up, saw that the
Bates family was riding off with the Spanish preacher in tow. “Nothing, sir,”
she finally said after taking a deep breath. “I’m right pleased to see my
brother wed. Nothing gives me more joy than the happiness of Miss Ellen, my
good friend.” She knew she was enunciating her words carefully, but she
couldn’t help the brusque note that had crept into her voice. Somehow, it went
well with her stomachache.
“Is
it your brothers’ pluck or your pa’s heavy-handedness that has you in a dither,
miss?” Mr. Henry softened his critical words with a quick smile that briefly
lifted the corners of his moustache.
“My
pa? Heavy-handed? Oh, yes,” she said, her voice sounding sarcastic to her ears.
She gave a little shudder, and tried to remember herself, tried to beat back
the great ache cramping her midsection. She finally managed a more moderate
tone, saying, “I’m speaking out of turn, Mr. Henry. My pa is an honorable man.”
“He
is that,” he agreed. “He’s also a commandin’ figure of a man who wants every
soul to do his will.”
She
didn’t reply. There was nothing to debate in his words.
“Aside
from that,” he said, a muffled snort escaping his throat, “he’s my boss, so I
reckon I’m speakin’ out of turn, as well.” He lifted his hat and
smoothed back his light brown hair before he carefully replaced the hat.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, I’d best get back to my work.”
Marie
looked around. The cowboys had drifted away and the glade was empty of guests.
Only Albert remained, still stuffing food into his apparently bottomless maw.
“It appears our weddin’ party has come to an end,” she said, rearranging the
utensils on her plate. “I reckon it’s time for me to gather the dishes and
such.”
He
helped her to her feet without further comment, and walked her over to the
tables. “I’m grateful for our talk, Miss Marie, even if I am a fair lummox at
conversatin’.”
“You
have no fault in speaking,” she said, a bit too forcefully. She looked
downward. “I must beg your pardon for putting you ill at ease. I haven’t been
the best company.” She looked up again, right into soft blue eyes that seemed
to see into her soul. “I fear I’ve been a bit, um, cranky.”
He
bent his head, accepting her apology. “Next time, I’ll not come up and surprise
you, miss.”
She
nodded, and he went away, leaving his plate behind on the table. She picked it
up and ran her fingers slowly around the smooth rim as she watched him go, her
attention fixed on the power in his easy stride. When she realized what her
fingers were doing, she hastily set down the plate, pulled her attention back
to her chore and made piles of the remains of the meal. Her thoughts buzzed in
disarray, crossing one upon the other as she worked.
That
Bill Henry! Is he toying with me? Jule thinks I’m ugly. Am I, truly? All the
county boys said I was pretty. Why didn’t Pa set me up with a husband when he
arranged matches for the boys? I was plenty old enough to get wed. There’s
hardly anybody out here. Why did Mr. Henry come to sit with me? He is surely
going back to Texas
Afraid
she might dissolve into tears and betray her fragile state of mind to her
brother, Marie dumped the dirty dishes into the washtub and fled with it toward
the house.
