Cowboy Stories

By Doreen Milstead

Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy - A pregnant and widowed English woman travels across rough seas, trying to reach her promised mail order husband in California. She runs out of funds in St. Louis and it’s only through the kindness of strangers that she is saved. On the other hand, her cowboy has many trials of his own and it’s only through the kindness of strangers also, and one in particular, that there is a chance of them ever meeting up.

The Seamstress From Boston Teaches The Angry Nebraskan Rancher How to Love - A seamstress from Boston decides to head out to Nebraska and become the mail order bride to a rancher, but when she reaches the station and sees her cowboy, he is much older and much angrier than she would have ever imagined.

The Widow & Her Baby Meet The Handyman Along The Oregon Trail - A widow tries to provide for her baby along the arduous trek of the Oregon Trail. When a mysterious stranger joins the train, carrying precious little other than his carpentry tools, he tells her that the Lord will provide, if she has faith. Bartering his services for things like food and a bright red sweater, Mary grows closer to Henry as their journey progresses, and the emotional ending of this story highlights how every human being has it within them to be generous within their souls, and that love can come easily if you just let it.

Beautiful Clara & Her Short Cowboy - A woman decides that a husband in the Old West would be a match for her quirky personality, but finds that the short yet muscular cowboy she accepts for her husband does not appreciate her sense of humor. A major event later lets her have her personality back, but things are still far from easy even several years down the road.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Jan 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370649990

Book preview

Cowboy Stories

By

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2017 Susan Hart

Cover photo copyright: aaron007 / 123RF Stock Photo

Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy

The Seamstress From Boston Teaches The Angry Nebraskan Rancher How to Love

The Widow & Her Baby Meet The Handyman Along The Oregon Trail

Beautiful Clara & Her Short Cowboy

Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy

Synopsis: Across Rough Seas To Her California Cowboy - A pregnant and widowed English woman travels across rough seas, trying to reach her promised mail order husband in California. She runs out of funds in St. Louis and it’s only through the kindness of strangers that she is saved. On the other hand, her cowboy has many trials of his own and it’s only through the kindness of strangers also, and one in particular, that there is a chance of them ever meeting up.

Leaning against a wet and cold gray wooden railing soaked by a stormy, dark, ocean, Sandy Hardcastle began to cry as a powerful wind tore at her long blond hair and pale blue dress. She wasn’t crying because the crippled merchant ship she was sailing from England to New York on was in danger of being swallowed up by gigantic, angry, waves tossing the ship around like a rag doll.

She wasn’t crying because she had left England to journey to California to become the wife of a rancher she didn’t know. She wasn’t crying because she felt seasick. She was crying because her unborn child that slept safely in her womb needed a father. Even though she was a widow, she felt grateful that her abusive husband had staggered into a river while drunk and drowned.

The last thing she wanted was for a drunken hand to raise her child. Yet, she wanted a father for her child; a decent, honest, Christian man.

Staring out at the stormy ocean that hissed and growled at her faint hopes, Sandy wondered if jumping overboard and committing suicide would solve all of her problems; she had little money and was basing her future off a few letters she had shared with the rancher she was sailing across the world to marry.

The rancher could be a mean drunk disguising his truth through fake words written with pen. Committing suicide, though, Sandy realized, was not an option. She was determined to provide her child with a future, no matter how difficult the battle. She was twenty-three years old, still young enough to retain enough strength to overcome any obstacle; or so she hoped.

Blimey, a sailor cried out in an angry British accent. Running to the railing he grabbed Sandy by the arm and began to pull her toward a wooden door leading down into the ship, what are you trying to do, you crazy dame?

Mustering all the strength she had, Sandy yanked away from the man. With tears pouring from her eyes she stared at him through the storm as rain and sea mist pelted her face. The man was tall and thin, wearing a black sailor’s suit that ran up to a scarecrow face tucked under a baldhead. Take your hands off of me. I’m not afraid!

You listen to me, the sailor snapped, this ship is in danger of being gobbled up, and I’m not going to let you be swept overboard and drown. Now get below!

Why, Sandy yelled standing her ground, so my body can be gawked at by men who have no respect for themselves, let alone me! I’m better off out here.

Rubbing his hands over his bald head, the sailor bit down hard on his lower lip. He knew the men he was sailing had thrown every word in the world at Sandy, hoping to seduce her with cheap whiskey breath and filthy teeth. I’ll talk the Captain about the men, he promised, pushing his temper down, we’re almost to the harbor…a day at the most, if this storm doesn’t kill us.

This storm is the least of my worried, Sandy explained backing up to the railing. Gently, she patted her stomach. I’m with child.

Oh Blimey, the sailor cried out, why didn’t you tell the Captain. If he had known, he wouldn’t have taken you on board.

We’re almost to New York, Sandy told the sailor, unafraid that the captain might turn the ship around and sail back to England, my child and I deserve a chance at life. I’m not going to turn my body over to prostitution because my drunken husband left me with just enough to get to America and buy a ticket to California.

Blimey, the sailor said again, not believing his ears. Studying the storm with experienced eyes, he pleaded with Sandy to go below ship. I don’t know your story, and I don’t want to. Your eyes tell me enough. Now please, get below.

Feeling a powerful wave crash into the bow of the ship and send a raging river of water down to her, Sandy grabbed the wooden railing and escaped the horror of having her body washed overboard. The sailor was thrown down and washed to over to the railing, but held on without being swept into the ocean. Are you all right? Sandy called out.

Blimey, the sailor complained climbing to his feet, the sea ain’t no place for a dame. You stay out in this storm if you want; I’m going below ship. When you get enough sense to come below, come to my quarters. I have some soup hidden. Looks like you could use it.

Everybody on this ship is cruel and without heart, why aren’t you, Sandy called over the raging winds.

I saw you reading the Bible. I read the Bible, too. I believe in God and Jesus Christ, the sailor called over his shoulder walking back to the door leading below ship, I ain’t perfect and my sins could fill the oceans, but I try and care the way Jesus cared when I can. On a ship like this, when the heart of each men are harder and colder than coal, it ain’t easy.

Sandy watched the sailor disappear below deck without saying another word. A strange and mysterious hope filled her heart. The sailor, she felt, represented the journey she was about to take. A journey filled with cruel hearts and dangerous storms—yet, a journey that held a hidden heart beating with a special, hidden love.

Returning her attention back to the storm, Sandy touched her belly. Okay, mum is going to get you some soup. I know you’re hungry. Let me pray first.

Mac Shorelong wadded up the letter in his tough hands. Raising his face up into a warm spring sun, he shook his head angrily. Why now, he asked biting down hard on his lower lip. Only a lazy breeze dancing across an open green field filled with hundreds of grazing cattle answered him.

Throwing the letter down onto the ground, Mac ran his hand through his sweaty brown hair that felt just as dirty as his handsome, but hard, face. Some women considered him handsome, but he just thought of himself as a normal ranch face that blended into the daily chores of ranch life.

He was just a man who wore the same old brown work short tucked into a pair of gray trousers. Heck, he wasn’t nothing special. His Pa, Steven Shorelong, owned the ranch. Mac was just another ranch hand it seemed. Why now?

Why now what? a hard voice asked walking up behind Mac.

Hey Pa, Mac answered. Leaning his head over his shoulder he saw a large man with thick gray hair and thick gray beard approach. Like Mac, the man was wearing his same old work clothes stained with sweat.

You didn’t take well to the letter, Steven said in a gruff voice looking down at the ground. Mind telling me what words are written on that piece of paper? I sure hope that letter ain’t from that girl from the old country. We went through a lot of trouble building that new room onto the main house for the two of you.

Nah, Mac said, shoving his hands down into his trouser pockets. Reaching his eyes out across the land, he studied beautiful fields surrounded by lush forest waking up from a winter that passed by with calm eyes. That letter is from Ma.

You’re too old to be acting like a little boy, Mac, Steven gripped. You’re twenty-five. Your Ma and I have been divorced for some years now.

I ain’t acting like a little boy, Mac mouthed off. Biting down on his lower lip again, he quickly apologized. I’m sorry Pa, but I’m just plain mad.

Bending down, Steven grabbed up the letter and read it. Now I can see why, he said in a growl. That woman has some nerve wanting to come back to the ranch.

Pa, she said she’s dying and wants to see me, Mac said, feeling guilt pressure him down like a bronco kicking a rookie rider into the dust. Pa, we both know Ma ain’t dying. Doc Minston said Ma don’t have the heart condition she think she does. Ma is just wanting to come back to the ranch to make me try and leave with her.

You’re here on the ranch on your own accord, Steven told Mac. I didn’t force you to stay. I reckon I’m glad you did. I can’t you see you walking around those fancy European countries carrying your Ma’s bags for her.

Me neither, Mac fussed, but Pa, Sandy is gonna be here in two weeks. Ma is expected here in three days. She didn’t ask to come here either…that letter was telling me she was coming.

Ain’t polite to not let her come to the ranch, Steven told Mac reaching down and snapping up a blade of grass. Sticking the blade of grass between his teeth he focused on the grazing cattle. Your Ma never liked to lose. She lost this ranch and she lost you. I reckon she’s coming here to throw up her fist for a second fight. She figures if she can take you away from here, she won.

Ma is staying for one month, Pa. She’s giving herself a lot of time to throw some punches. I don’t think I can handle it, Mac confessed. Ma ain’t gonna be nice to a bride I have coming over from the old country, either. She’ll run Sandy off, Pa, sure as I’m standing here she will.

We got more branding to do, Steven answered Mac, go on down to the left field and help John. If your Ma is going to be staying for a month, I reckon I need to have her room ready. Blasted woman, she never did make things easy for me. She should have written me that dang letter.

Mac watched his Pa turn and walk away back toward the main house like a steaming bull ready to charge through a town and rip it to shreds. Figuring work would take his mind off his problems, Mac walked away toward the left field thinking of Sandy. He sure was nervous about marrying a woman he had never met, but somehow he felt that the woman traveling thousands of miles to be his wife was the right woman for him.

As Mac walked away toward the left field, Sandy sat alone in the restaurant of a hotel filled with strange faces that made her feel very alone and afraid. Cautiously, when she felt no one was looking, she would sneak bread into her purse and then tell the waiter she was tending to her that she needed more bread because the last piece brought to her table was no good and she had thrown it away. Hating to lie, but having very little money to buy food, Sandy managed to fill her purse with enough bread to feed her unborn child while hiding away in a dark barn and sleeping on a pile of hay. The ticket she had purchased only took her as far as St. Louis.

As she lay in the darkness of the barn on the pile of hay eating the bread she had managed to hide in her purse, Sandy feared that her path to the ranch on California had come to a sharp close. What money she had hidden in her purse was for food. Feeding her child was the most important chore in her life. Finding or earning money to continue her travels would come second. With tears falling from her beautiful blue eyes, she rubbed her belly. Mum is going to get us to that ranch, I promise.

Sandy knew she was a beautiful young woman. Many times in London, people had suggested she sell her body for money. Sandy refused. She was wouldn’t sell her self-respect and integrity for a cheap pound. Lying alone in the dark barn, she wondered if, in the end, she might have to sell her body after all. Before she could answer her own question, she heard the barn