Julia: Bride of New York (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 11) Read Online Free PDF Page A

grin came unbidden as he remembered the spit and fire in her when he did something to rankle her. And he seemed to do that quite a bit. It surprised him to realize he’d only known her since that morning when she’d disembarked from the train, looking for Johnson.
    He scowled, once again thinking about how the man behaved toward Miss Benson. She’d mentioned a wagon accident, which was how she’d gotten the limp. He remembered watching her walk away from him, and the limp certainly accented the sway of her lovely hips.
    Crawling into bed in his usual naked manner, he lay on his back, his hands tucked behind his head. Miss Julia Benson. Small, pretty, feisty, and with a spine of steel. He grinned. Life at the jailhouse was about to change.
     
     
    The next morning, he began his day with a smile, thinking about Miss Benson and him in the jailhouse all day. Somehow he didn’t think this would be just another day of sheriffing.
    He whistled while he fixed coffee and washed and dressed. He tightened his gun belt, grabbed his hat from the chair where he’d left it, and headed out. His house was mere steps from the jailhouse. At one time it had been a cozy home. Laura had planted flowers in the front of the place, and she’d cajoled him into buying two rocking chairs from the Sears Roebuck catalog for the front porch. Luckily, whoever had built the house had set the place so the front of the house faced away from the jail. Many nights they’d sat there, watching the sun go down, speaking about the future.
    He had plans at one time to save enough money to give up his sheriff job and buy a piece of land where he could breed horses. That had always been his love. Both of his brothers owned horse farms, one in Kentucky, one in Virginia. They had done well for themselves.
    All of those dreams died right alongside Laura and Patrick, the name he’d give his baby son. Funny how meeting Miss Benson had resurrected all those memories. He hadn’t thought about the idea of a horse farm in a long time.
    The woman in his thoughts since yesterday morning stood in front of the jailhouse. Dressed in a light-blue and white calico dress, with a short dark-blue jacket and a matching bonnet that just didn’t seem to go with a jailhouse employee, she beamed at him, clutching her reticule in her hands. “Good morning, Sheriff.”
    He nodded, annoyed at the wave of joy that hit him at her presence. The woman had already turned him down twice, so there was no reason to feel such happiness. For now she was merely his employee. One he had absolutely no idea what to do with.
    “Good morning, Miss Benson. You are looking quite chipper today.”
    “I had a good night’s rest, and I’m anxious to start work.”
    He fumbled with the keys and swung the door open, gesturing for her to enter before him.
    She unbuttoned her jacket as she looked around. “This place could use some cleaning up.”
    His rumbling stomach reminded him she probably hadn’t had any breakfast either since she’d thrown Johnson’s money back at him. He had to find a way to keep her fed until he could reasonably give her some pay for her work.
    “I have your first assignment.”
    She smiled at him and nodded.
    “You need to go down to the café and get breakfast for the two of us.”
    Miss Benson frowned. “That doesn’t sound like sheriff work.”
    “That’s true, because you are not the sheriff and don’t do sheriff work. I am, and I do. The assistant does what the sheriff tells him—er, her—to do.”
    “Well I can see getting your breakfast, but I don’t see why my assignment is getting breakfast for me.”
    Lord, the woman was stubborn. After the supper she’d put away last night, he knew she had a healthy appetite. Did she really think she would be able to survive without food until her first payday? Hadn’t they gone over this already?
    “It’s a benefit of the job. The town is paying for your hotel until you can get your own place, and the sheriff’s