A Match Made in Texas by Karen Witemeyer

He and his brothers used to tease and tussle like that, too.

Neill hid his grin and nudged Mo into a trot, taking him past the wagon before the squabble escalated to a level that required parental interference. Yet she managed a bit of well-aimed retribution when the toe of her shoe collided rather squarely with the length of the loudest boy’s thigh. The poor gal turned apple red and tried to hide beneath the brim of her bonnet. Neill tipped his hat in response, which set the boys to hootin’ and hollerin’ and the younger girls to gigglin’. The oldest girl smiled shyly up at him as he came alongside. Maybe Dry Gulch had more to offer than he’d first thought.Ī wagon, its bed overflowing with a passel of young’uns spit shined and Sunday ready, rolled ahead of him. Townsfolk trudged along boardwalks on either side of him, past a general store, a bank, and even a diner. The deep bong of a church bell reverberated through the crisp morning air, drawing Neill down Dry Gulch’s main street. He’d left home with a goal, and he’d not falter in his pursuit of it-not when he was so close to his target. A new town-no matter how dusty-meant new opportunities and the possibility of work. Straightening his spine, he clicked his tongue and urged his sturdy roan forward. But he hadn’t earned his right to return to them. What he wouldn’t give to be hemmed in by those big, beautiful Archer pines right about now. And to think when he first left his family’s ranch two years ago, he’d hungered for wide-open spaces. Another dusty, dirt-colored town in the middle of nowhere. Neill Archer sighed and slouched a bit in the saddle when he caught his first glimpse of Dry Gulch.

A Match Made in Texas by Karen Witemeyer