Read Online Julia: Bride of New York (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 11) by Callie Hutton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Callie Hutton
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, New York, Religious, Christian, Law Enforcement, Inspirational, Bachelor, Stranded, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, sheriff, Rejection, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Lawman, train station, Adversary, Eleventh In Series
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saloon, she stopped to listen to what she thought was the sound of footsteps behind her. Difficult to hear anything with her heart beating so loudly, she turned slowly, but saw no one. Her imagination was getting the best of her.
Continuing on her way, she found herself tiptoeing, trying to see if there was someone behind her. No footsteps. Certain she was alone on the boardwalk, she hurried her steps, breathing a sigh of relief when lights from the boarding house came into view.
Once more she was gulping air as she raced up the steps, almost tripping in her eagerness to reach the front door. Mrs. Beamer had provided her with a key since she was the last one in every night. Fumbling in her coat pocket, she pulled the key out and let herself in.
She took a deep breath when she closed the door behind her and turned the lock. Another night over. Weary now, she unbuttoned her coat as she climbed the stairs and entered her room. It was a lovely space, and if it wasn’t for the awful job she had to do to keep the rent paid, she would really love it.
From behind a large maple tree, Fletcher watched Julia hurry up the steps to the boarding house and let herself in with a key. He’d followed her home every night since he’d learned she was working at the Full Bucket. At least she had the sense to watch her surroundings and carry a lantern with her.
He lit a cigarette and began his walk home. Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his mind? From the time he’d seen her standing, all alone, at the train station, he felt a connection to Miss Julia Benson. She was pretty, smart, funny, and had guts and honor not always seen in some men.
If only he could figure out why she’d turned him down. Better yet, why couldn’t he accept that she’d rejected him and just forget about her? Because somehow his brain was not connected to his body. In all honesty—he wanted her. But even if they married, he vowed not to allow another wife of his to suffer through childbirth.
A true dilemma. Somehow he knew if he and Julia did marry, he would be hard-pressed not to take her to bed and make her his. The woman had him going in circles.
The next morning Fletcher sat in his office, sipping coffee and writing up his weekly report when the door to the jail opened. The woman who was constantly on his mind stood in the doorway. Julia’s shiny hair was swept back from her face, fastened at the nape with a hair clip, leaving a few curls near her ears. She unbuttoned her coat to reveal a dark brown wool skirt and white shirtwaist that clung to all her curves.
This Julia who stood in front of him was so different from the one in the red satin dress that it was hard to reconcile the two. Julia, with her pert little nose and slight freckles, was meant to be some man’s wife, not a saloon girl.
He lowered his feet from the top of his desk and stood. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”
Julia pulled on the drawstring of her reticule and stuck her hand in. “I have some money for you.”
Fletcher pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger. “What money?”
She held out a few bills. “The money you paid for my meals and the hotel. I know it’s not all there, but I will make payments until it’s all paid up.”
“Honey, I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to marry me.”
She waved her hand. “It appears you will never get it right, so the answer is still no. In any event, I owe for the cost of my keep.” She dropped the bills on his desk. “And don’t call me honey.”
Lord, he didn’t even know that had slipped out. When did he start thinking of her in such intimate terms? And what the hell wasn’t he getting right?
“I told you the town paid for your hotel, and your meals came out of the sheriff’s budget.”
“I always pay my debts, Sheriff.”
“They were not debts, Miss Benson.”
She opened her mouth to retort when the door flew open and Johnson’s employee, Malcolm Dryer,
Continuing on her way, she found herself tiptoeing, trying to see if there was someone behind her. No footsteps. Certain she was alone on the boardwalk, she hurried her steps, breathing a sigh of relief when lights from the boarding house came into view.
Once more she was gulping air as she raced up the steps, almost tripping in her eagerness to reach the front door. Mrs. Beamer had provided her with a key since she was the last one in every night. Fumbling in her coat pocket, she pulled the key out and let herself in.
She took a deep breath when she closed the door behind her and turned the lock. Another night over. Weary now, she unbuttoned her coat as she climbed the stairs and entered her room. It was a lovely space, and if it wasn’t for the awful job she had to do to keep the rent paid, she would really love it.
From behind a large maple tree, Fletcher watched Julia hurry up the steps to the boarding house and let herself in with a key. He’d followed her home every night since he’d learned she was working at the Full Bucket. At least she had the sense to watch her surroundings and carry a lantern with her.
He lit a cigarette and began his walk home. Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his mind? From the time he’d seen her standing, all alone, at the train station, he felt a connection to Miss Julia Benson. She was pretty, smart, funny, and had guts and honor not always seen in some men.
If only he could figure out why she’d turned him down. Better yet, why couldn’t he accept that she’d rejected him and just forget about her? Because somehow his brain was not connected to his body. In all honesty—he wanted her. But even if they married, he vowed not to allow another wife of his to suffer through childbirth.
A true dilemma. Somehow he knew if he and Julia did marry, he would be hard-pressed not to take her to bed and make her his. The woman had him going in circles.
The next morning Fletcher sat in his office, sipping coffee and writing up his weekly report when the door to the jail opened. The woman who was constantly on his mind stood in the doorway. Julia’s shiny hair was swept back from her face, fastened at the nape with a hair clip, leaving a few curls near her ears. She unbuttoned her coat to reveal a dark brown wool skirt and white shirtwaist that clung to all her curves.
This Julia who stood in front of him was so different from the one in the red satin dress that it was hard to reconcile the two. Julia, with her pert little nose and slight freckles, was meant to be some man’s wife, not a saloon girl.
He lowered his feet from the top of his desk and stood. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”
Julia pulled on the drawstring of her reticule and stuck her hand in. “I have some money for you.”
Fletcher pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger. “What money?”
She held out a few bills. “The money you paid for my meals and the hotel. I know it’s not all there, but I will make payments until it’s all paid up.”
“Honey, I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to marry me.”
She waved her hand. “It appears you will never get it right, so the answer is still no. In any event, I owe for the cost of my keep.” She dropped the bills on his desk. “And don’t call me honey.”
Lord, he didn’t even know that had slipped out. When did he start thinking of her in such intimate terms? And what the hell wasn’t he getting right?
“I told you the town paid for your hotel, and your meals came out of the sheriff’s budget.”
“I always pay my debts, Sheriff.”
“They were not debts, Miss Benson.”
She opened her mouth to retort when the door flew open and Johnson’s employee, Malcolm Dryer,
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