Abigail's Secret (A Whimsical Select Romance Novella) Read Online Free PDF

Guns were shot into the air and the men in the crowd whistled and cheered.  She raised her hands and those in front of her fell into silence, and within a couple minutes the rest of the throng that stood further away followed suit and quieted as well.
    “Word has reached my ears that there ’s a certain gentleman that I once knew and he has...Well, won me,” she said, and her face exaggerated a very big frown.  The crowd began to hiss and boo out their disappointment.  “The question I ponder is, should I honor my brother by his choice or seek out a man of my own choosing?”  She then raised her plump finger to her head and repeatedly tapped, pretending to be thinking.
    The crowd was sent into an uproar by her question.  Shouts urged her to give them all an equal chance.  Abigail glanced at Brice and watched as he stared at Tiny Tess.  She detected more than a hint of worry upon his brow and a peculiar color of green that shaded his pallor.  “Are you still feeling as confident now, Mister Winslow?” she asked and followed it with a chuckle.
    He glared at her.
    “I think perhaps we should have Mister Brice Winslow approach,” Tiny Tess called out.  “It’s been many years since I’ve seen him and perhaps he’s now no longer worthy of my heart.”  True to her performance training, she put her hand above her eyes and peered out into the crowd from one side to the other.  “Mister Brice Winslow?” she shouted out.  “Are you out there?”
    The crowd in front of Brice looked back at him and resentfully stared but moved aside as Brice walked forward.  They opened up for him much to the fashion of Moses parting the sea.  He looked back at Abigail, closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and continued toward the woman.
    “Good luck, Mister Winslow,” Abigail called out to him and smothered a giggle within her white gloved hand.  She watched him until he was beneath the train’s doorway where the Abigail imposter stood.
    “And there he is,” Tiny Tess called out to her audience.  “Why, he’s as pretty, if not more so than I remember!”
    Brice’s blush came faster than the crowd’s laughter and jeering.  Yet he stood there, forced a smile toward the crowd, and returned his gaze to look upon her.
    “ Good day, Abigail,” he said and tipped his hat to her.  “It’s good to see you looking so well.”
    “Since you have won me in my brother’s game of cards, I shall offer you a game of my very own in return,” she said.  She looked at the multitude of people and spoke aloud stating, “If Mister Brice Winslow wins my game, the contest for my hand shall be over and I’ll marry this man,” she said and pointed down at Brice.  “But if he loses my game, then it’s fair game for all!”  Whoops and hollers began again and Tiny Tess gave a terse nod.  “Are you up to the challenge, Mister Winslow?”
    Abigail smiled when Brice, although looking almighty uncomfortable by the attention, nodded his head to Tess. “I think I’m going to rather enjoy this show,” Abigail said to Thomas.
    Again, Tess looked at the crowd and shouted.  “And what game might you all suggests we play to test his merit?”  Ideas came from the left of her and they hailed from her right; everything from playing cards to racing horses, and a few inappropriate suggestions in-between.
    “Good ole arm wrestling works well in these parts,” a man hollered , and he then smiled at her with fewer teeth than he’d been born.  When the man noticed that he gained Tess’s attention he blew her a kiss and waved.
    “Arm wrestling?” She slapped her hand across her lap and heartily laughed through full, rounded lips.  “I believe our poor Mister Winslow would be at a great disadvantage.”
    Abigail pushed and shoved her way through the people until she stood next to Brice. She raised a challenging brow to hm.  “What about a game of wits, cousin?” Abigail suggested very loudly so all could hear.
    “My fair and