Second Chance Brides

OTHER BOOKS BY VICKIE MCDONOUGH:

T
EXAS
B
QARDINGHQUSE
B
RIDES
The Anonymous Bride

© 2010 by Vickie McDonough

Print ISBN 978-1-60260-648-7

eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.ePub) 978-1-60742-201-3
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-202-0

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

For more information about Vickie McDonough, please access the author’s Web site at the following Internet address:
www.vickiemcdonough.com

Cover design: Faceout Studio,
www.faceoutstudio.com
Cover photo: Pixelworks Studios,
www.shootpw.com

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.

Printed in the United States of America.

DEDICATION/ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is dedicated to my good friend, Margaret Daley, award-winning author of over 70 books. The first time I met Margaret was at a local RWA chapter meeting. I’d read a number of her books—and loved them—but had no idea she lived in the same town as me. I literally stood there awestruck, shaking and thinking, “Oh my goodness! Margaret Daley lives in Tulsa?!”

I never could have dreamed back then that we’d become such good friends and travel across the U.S. together, promoting our books, attending writers conferences, and serving together as ACFW officers. Thanks so much, Margaret, for the encouragement you’ve been to me and for your patience when I vented and didn’t believe in myself. We’ve laughed together and cried together and shared our joys and frustrations over many a meal and mile. I couldn’t ask for a better friend, and I thank God for bringing you into my life.

C
HAPTER
1
Lookout, Texas
August 1886

A
ny moment, the wedding would commence and signal an end to her dreams. Shannon O’Neil cast a longing glance back toward the safety of the boardinghouse. Whoever heard of a mailorder bride attending the wedding of the man she was to marry—especially when he was marrying someone else? “We should not be here.” Her voice trembled almost as much as her legs.

Her gaze flitted over the huge crowd gathered in the open field next door to the church. Only because her friend Rachel had requested her presence had she agreed to come. “People are staring at us.”

Leah Bennett sidled up beside her, mouth twisted to one side. “They’ve gawked at us ever since we came to town. Besides, we’ve got just as much right to be at this wedding as anyone else. Even more if you ask me. All things considered.”

Shannon shored up her apprehension and forced her steps forward. She squeezed through the group of men clustered around an array of makeshift benches and hurried toward one of the few remaining spots on the back bench.

Several men gaped at them and whispered among themselves. That was nothing new, since she and Leah were mail-order brides without a groom. She’d been in Lookout more than a month but still hadn’t gotten used to being the focus of attention. Shannon dropped her gaze to the ground, but that did nothing to silence the loud murmurs. Leah sat next on her left, her nose pointed in the air, not in the snooty way it sometimes was, but in a way that dared anybody to challenge her right to attend the wedding.

“I can’t believe they had the nerve to show up,” a man to their right slurred, his tone dripping sour like unsweetened lemonade.

“They’ll ruin everything,” another said.

“Of all the nerve. This is Luke and Rachel’s special day, not theirs.”

Crushing the handkerchief in her hand, Shannon willed her trembling to cease. But her efforts were futile. She leaned toward Leah. “Perhaps ’twould be better if we left.”

“We’re staying put. Rachel wants us here, and that’s what matters. If those folks don’t like it,
they
can leave.” The sternness in Leah’s voice made Shannon feel like a scolded child. If only she had Leah’s boldness, perhaps her future wouldn’t look so bleak.

Shannon peered up at the ash gray clouds—clouds that mirrored her future. Clouds that swirled in waves, taunting and threatening like a schoolyard bully.

Never had she seen clouds such as these, not in all of Ireland nor during the seven months she’d lived in America.

The oppressive heat sent streams of sweat trickling down her temples, back, and chest. A canvas canopy erected to protect the bride and groom in the event of rain lifted on the breeze and deflated as if it were a living, breathing being.

Let it rain
. At least if showers fell, no one would notice her tears.

Men stood in a rough half-circle around the benches their womenfolk and children filled—benches they had constructed over the past few days. The pounding of their hammers had resembled a death knell to Shannon, with each whack bringing her closer to the end of another dream.

She looked around at the growing crowd. Nearly the whole town had turned out to see Lookout’s marshal, Luke Davis, marry Rachel Hamilton, the owner of the boardinghouse—the very same boardinghouse where Shannon resided. The very same marshal she had expected to marry. Shannon’s chin wobbled.

“Don’t you dare cry, you hear me?”

Shannon blinked her moist eyes, stiffened her chin, and glanced at Leah. She, too, had come to town, expecting to marry the marshal, although she seemed less distraught than Shannon felt over losing him. She clenched her hands. What was she going to do now? Would she never have a home of her own?

Leah leaned closer, her lips puckered as if she’d eaten a persimmon. “If I can make it through this wedding without weeping, so can you. We’re Texans now, and you’re gonna have to find a backbone if you plan to survive here.”

Leah was right. Crimping the handkerchief tighter, Shannon turned to face the front where the parson had taken his place. A fiddler off to the right zipped his bow across the strings, playing a lively tune she’d never heard before. The trees shimmied and swayed, dancing in the brisk breeze, cooling Shannon’s damp neck.

Leah might be in the same boat as she, but the pretty blond had a family to return to—she just chose not to do so. Shannon would give anything to have her parents back, but no sooner had they stepped onto the shores of America than they’d come down with influenza and died. With her three siblings already dead and buried back in Ireland, she was completely alone in a foreign country.

Why hadn’t God healed her parents when she’d begged Him to? Her throat stung as if she’d run a race in winter’s chill. But the only thing cold in Texas was her future.

Sympathetic glances swept her way, along with the others. How was it possible to be so alone in such a large crowd?

Leah leaned toward her. “Here he comes.”

The murmurs silenced as Luke Davis strode past the front row of townsfolk and took his place next to the parson. His two conniving, hooligan cousins, Garrett and Mark Corbett, followed, along with the old yellow dog that rarely let Luke out of his sight. The dog sniffed Luke’s shoes, sending chuckles rippling through the crowd. Jacqueline, Rachel’s ten-year-old daughter from her first marriage, sat on the front row. She smacked her lips, and Max lumbered over to her and laid down at her feet. Jack, as the mischievous child preferred to be called, would benefit from having a kind man like the marshal for a father.

A sigh of longing slipped from Shannon’s mouth as she pulled her gaze back to Luke. He looked so handsome in his new suit and hat. He was a comely man, in a rugged way. But her marriage to him had been doomed before she ever set foot in Lookout. Just imagine—three women coming to town to marry him when his heart already belonged to a woman who’d stolen it more than a decade before. Now, two of the marshal’s mail-order brides were stuck in Lookout while the third was locked up in a jail in Dallas for bank robbery. Shannon shook her head and clutched her handkerchief to her chest. What a kettle of nettles.

And now that the marshal was marrying, she was stranded in one of the smallest towns she’d ever been in outside of Ireland. But this wasn’t the first time, and if she had managed before, she could do it again. She dabbed at her eyes and stiffened her back. The music grew louder, and heads turned toward the rear of the crowd. Shannon stood along with the others, but her gaze didn’t search out the bride. How could one feel happiness and sorrow at the same time?

Rachel passed Shannon’s row and walked toward her groom, looking beautiful in the cream-colored dress her aunt had brought from Kansas City. The bride held her Bible in front of her, and on top lay a bouquet of daisies tied together with flowing rose and lavender ribbons that fluttered on the gusty breeze. Shannon sighed at the joyful smile on Rachel’s face.

If Shannon ever doubted the marshal’s love for his bride, she did so no more. His face all but glowed, as if he’d battled a hard-fought race, come out the victor, and won a coveted prize. Would a man ever look at her with such love in his eyes?

“I now pronounce you man and wife.” A cheer rang throughout the crowd, and Shannon jumped. She blinked, realizing she’d been lost in thought and had missed the whole wedding.

“Well, that’s the end of that.” Leah stood and looked around. “There are plenty more unmarried men we can set our bonnets for.”

Leah might be snippy and bossy at times, but Shannon admired her determination. They’d once been competitors, but being the losers of the bride contest had put them in the same wagon, and they were becoming friends.

Shannon studied the townsfolk swarming the newly married couple, offering their congratulations. Men outnumbered women ten to one. “Aye, there’s truth in what you say. There surely are many men in Texas.”

“I suppose we should make our way over to the refreshment table and help serve. I know Rachel was hesitant to ask for our help, given the situation and all, but it seems the least we can do.”

Shannon nodded and followed Leah over to the west side of the church, where a makeshift table had been erected with sawhorses and wooden planks. A lacy white tablecloth hid the ugliness and boasted the biggest cake Shannon had ever seen. “Miss Dykstra surely outdid herself makin’ that lovely cake.”