Wyoming Engagement

By Joyce Armor

It’s 1873 and wealthy Rexwell Dunne is dying. As a last hurrah, he travels across the country in his Pullman rail car with his daughter Jenna, 22, and her conniving brother Carter, 24. One night as they are traveling through Wyoming and their father is sleeping, Carter lures Jenna out of the Pullman, where he shoots her and throws her off the train. Rancher Bodie Farnham, who is dreading a visit from his overbearing mother and the “perfect” debutante she is bringing with her from Omaha, finds the unconscious and nearly dead Jenna on his property. She slowly regains her health at his ranch but suffers from amnesia. In a moment of panic, Bodie tells his mother the injured young woman, whom he has named Abby, is his fiancée. The amnesiac believes him, and his cook/housekeeper joins him in the deception. Bodie’s mother and the debutante work to break up “Abby” and Bodie and trap him into a marriage with the ruffled young woman from Omaha. As he becomes more attracted to Abby, Bodie wallows in guilt for his dishonesty. Meanwhile, Carter gets closer to the ranch to finish the job he started so he won’t have to share his inheritance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joyce Armor
• Release date: Jun 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463476512

Joyce Armor

I knew from the age of 8 I wanted to be a writer. I was 15 when I wrote a scintillating short story targeted to the confession magazines, my first attempt at getting published. Alas, “Drunkenness Cost Me My Womanhood” was rejected. In the next decade, I fed my need to write by penning long letters (a dying art), Christmas card notes, English essays and term papers.Armed with a degree in English, I was tending bar in a Las Vegas casino (long story) when I had an epiphany: I would do everything in my power to become a TV writer. Two weeks later I was living in L.A., and a few months after that, I landed a job as a production assistant at MTM, where I learned from the inside how to write and rewrite scripts. In partnership with another P.A., Judie Neer, I started writing spec scripts. Finally one was accepted by “The Tony Randall Show.” Over the next several years we were freelance TV writers, with credits including “The Love Boat,” “WKRP in Cincinnati” and “Remington Steele.” Then we both got married and started birthing babies. My little family left the L.A. smog for a small town in northern California.Over the next two decades, I wrote a parenting column that won a national award, several books (Letters from a Pregnant Coward, The Dictionary According to Mommy, What You Don’t Know About Having Babies), children’s poetry (in Kids Pick the Funniest Poems and other anthologies) and plays produced in community theaters.I also got divorced and moved my two sons across the country to Myrtle Beach, SC. There I wrote hundreds of magazine and newspaper articles and columns and co-owned a regional business/lifestyle magazine.Several years ago I moved back to Ohio from whence I began, where I enjoying hanging out with family and old friends, including the same group I ate lunch with in the cafeteria in 7th grade. Since returning to my roots, I’ve read more than 1,000 romance novels and novellas. Many I loved, some I felt “enh” after reading and others I wanted to reach into the book and hit at least one of the protagonists with a brick.That’s when I decided to write my own romance novels and novellas, the kind I wanted to read, with smart, funny protagonists; and interesting (to me, anyway), not overly complicated plots with conflicts not so contrived they make me want to gnash my teeth. You might disagree, and all I have to say about that is different strokes for different folks. My youngest son once told me he absolutely hated English classes because with math, 2+2 is always going to be 4, but judging writing is so subjective. In my younger years I might have turned myself into a pretzel trying to fit my writing into some publisher’s niche. Not happening anymore. Now I’m writing for me, in my own unique voice.I’ve always been a much better writer than a salesperson, hence the e-publishing route. And I’m basking in the control. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Book preview

Wyoming Engagement

A Novella

Joyce Armor

Wyoming Engagement

Copyright 2018 Joyce Armor

Smashwords Edition

Cover: Vila Design

Trusty Reader: Chris Gale

Expert Formatting: Jesse Gordon

Wyoming Engagement

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are purely fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Chapter 1

On the transcontinental railroad, Wyoming Territory, 1873

What could Carter possibly have to say to her that she needed to leave the comfort of the Pullman car and meet him in the next car? Jenna Dunne smoothed the skirt of her navy blue traveling dress as she looked over her shoulder. Her father, Rexwell Dunne, had retired early. She turned, walked back and peeked behind the privacy partition concealing his upper berth to confirm that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She smiled at his weathered face and hair so gray she could barely see a few flecks of his once luscious black mane. Even in repose, she still could see the strength that remained. And the character.

They had not discussed it—it was not his way—but she knew her father was dying. Each day he seemed to walk a little slower and sleep a little longer. On this grand continental railroad trip, they had stopped in Chicago to visit his sister and in Omaha to see an old friend. It’s his mortality tour. It was a morbid thought, but she knew in her heart it was true, and she was trying to treasure every moment of this journey. When her brother, Carter, wasn’t complaining or pointing out her flaws—never in Father’s hearing, of course—for most of the trip he had left the Pullman car for hours at a time. She suspected it was to gamble or imbibe spirits or both. He seemed always to be able to find equally desperate and dissolute people wherever he went.

She thought, for perhaps the hundredth time, that the two siblings could not have been more different. Jenna was rather short, yet lithe, with auburn hair and green eyes. Carter, though tall, was awfully spongy, not muscled, no doubt from avoiding any type of work whenever he could. She had to admit he was a handsome man, however, with sandy blonde hair, a straight nose and a strong jaw. He dressed impeccably, looking like he stepped out of a clothing catalogue, at least at the beginning of each day, which was typically the only time she saw him. And he had brown, soulful eyes. That in itself was an irony, since she was not sure he even had a soul.

All her life, Carter, who was two years older than her 22, had tormented her, though never when their father or any other adult was around to witness his cruelty. She could not prove it yet was all but certain that he had killed her puppy when she was seven. He had tripped her when she was ten, causing her to fall down several stairs and break her arm. After that she became a master at avoiding him. She was no match for him physically, but that didn’t mean she didn’t fight back. She was not even sure she was smarter than her brother. She was possibly more devious, however. Her small victories were limited to a little salt in his coffee, a little sand in his bed, a little spider in his shoe. It was enough to annoy him, yet not enough to convince him she was sabotaging him. In fact, she was almost positive he did not believe she had the gumption. Ha! His mistake. Even as she had the thought, she knew her behavior was petty and beneath her. It felt so good, though.

Their mother had died when she was 16, and life was never the same after that. Their father was never unkind, but he worked long hours and was often gone to meetings and conventions related to his construction, engineering, architectural and transportation businesses. Although he was not the kind of man to outwardly show his affection, Jenna did not doubt that he loved her in his own guarded but steadfast way. In fact, he was the only person in the world who did. Her aunt, the one they had visited in Chicago, was a pretentious cold fish if ever there was one. If her hair had been pulled back any tighter, half her face would be behind her ears. Amusing thoughts like that had kept her sane during their excruciatingly long visit. And the pompous Aunt Demetria and her equally starchy daughter Claudia were Jenna’s only other living relatives.

Come on, Jenna, this is important. Carter stood at the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He better not be planning to ask her for money. She was not about to support his gambling habit ever again. As it was, she had to hide her own pin money, lest he steal it. Once burned. Actually, thrice burned, but who’s counting?

Sighing, she pushed a recalcitrant clump of curls behind her ear, dropping her ivory hairpin on the floor in the process. She picked it up, restrained the curls with it and walked toward him. Somehow she knew, once their father passed on and his will was probated, she would most likely never see her brother again. And sadly, she knew it would almost be a relief. Oh, who are you kidding? Not even almost. It would a glorious turn of events. Still, she had to find out what he wanted, lest it related to their father, and did not want to disturb his sleep.

Carter opened the railway door and gestured for Jenna to precede him. He was turning gentlemanly at this late date? If she had not been so surprised, she might have been suspicious. If he wasn’t going to ask for money, he would probably berate her for something. She almost chuckled. She had long since become immune to his criticism. Mostly.

Jenna steadied herself as she took her first step onto the platform between the Pullman and the next car.

Wait, Carter said, and she stopped.

He came out onto the platform, looking back into the Pullman and then into the next car. Then, to her utter astonishment, he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at her.

What are you doing? Her hand involuntarily went up to her throat.

I’m sorry, dear sister, but I’m not willing to share my inheritance. His lip curled up in that sneer she had seen many times before.

It all happened so fast. As Jenna watched his finger closing in on the trigger, she barely had time to scream, a scream that was swallowed by the sounds of wheels on the track. She tried to jump out of the way, but felt a searing pain in her side, and she staggered, trying to keep her balance as blood began spreading across her front. Her brain had barely conveyed the horror of what had happened when Carter’s foot came up and his boot made contact with her gut, causing her to shriek in pain as she catapulted off the train. The last thing she saw was Carter’s teeth. He was smiling.

For a split second she felt rather than saw the ground approaching, and had just enough time to think oh, no before she hit it with a jarring impact that instantly turned her world black.

Back on the train, Carter put the pistol in his pocket and walked through several cars to the dining car. He ordered himself a Manhattan, the newest rage in drinks, smiling at the waitress he knew he would bed soon. He thought about speeding the old man to his reward—it would be easy enough to hold a pillow over his face—but decided he could wait now that his biggest problem was out of the way. His father could not last more than a few weeks anyway.

* * *

Her head was pounding, her side was on fire, and just about every other inch of her body hurt. It took her several minutes to realize she had no idea what happened to her or where she was. She closed her eyes for several moments before slowly opening them. No, it isn’t a nightmare. You’re really here and really hurting. Slowly, so as not to aggravate the pounding in her head, Jenna looked around. She was in a gully of some sort. Had she fallen down the little rocky hill to the bottom? How? Why? Just the exertion of those thoughts tired her. She lay back down and slowly checked her body. She was wearing some kind of dark traveling ensemble, which was torn in several places and muddy in others. Her jaw dropped as she looked at various scratches and the

Reviews for Wyoming Engagement

[benn9314 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A sweet story that told the tales of a troubled family