The Payback Christmas Bride

By Cynthia Hickey

City girl, Abigail Rogers, has nowhere to turn after the death of her parents which left her destitute. She corresponds with Laura Cooper for several months, then decides Sam sounds perfect. The gruff, handsome rancher and harsh Montana winters are nothing like she'd dreamed of, but soon, she recognizes the beauty of the landscape and the kindness in Sam's heart.

Still, will she want to stay come spring?

Can these two set aside a world of differences to see the true gift in front of them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hickey
• Release date: Oct 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223453178

Cynthia Hickey

Multi-published and best-selling author, Cynthia Hickey, has taught writing at many conferences and small writing retreats. She and her husband run the publishing press, Winged Publications, which includes some of the CBA's best well-known authors. They live in Arizona and Arkansas, becoming snowbirds with two dogs and one cat. They have ten grandchildren who them busy and tell everyone they know that "Nana is a writer."   

Book preview

THE PAYBACK CHRISTMAS BRIDE

A Merry Matchmaker Novella

By Cynthia Hickey

Sign up for my newsletter and receive a free short story

C:\Users\cynthia\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\00PMXWIU\4506683082_485af56336_z[1].jpg

Prologue

1881 Montana

"I think the pastor’s daughter would make a perfect bride for Sam." Laura Cooper wiped the milk from her daughter Sadie’s mouth and handed her to her father.

Ben smiled. No matchmaking.

It worked well enough for us, didn’t it? Answering the advertisement for a mail order bride that she had thought came from Ben, but had instead been from his brother Sam for Ben, had brought Laura to Montana and to a new life filled with happiness.

While Ben put Sadie down for the night, then went to check the livestock, Laura set down at the roll top desk, a gift from her husband on the birth of their daughter, and crafted a nicely worded advertisement.

Wanted as bride:

a well-bred, well brought up young lady, educated and refined, not afraid of hard work, snow, or livestock.

Laura grinned. She’d make a trip into town in the morning. There was plenty of time between spring and summer to get her brother-in-law a bride.

C:\Users\cynthia\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\IE\00PMXWIU\4506683082_485af56336_z[1].jpg

1

Abigail Rogers turned her pert little nose in the air at the dust and commotion of the unruly town. In her gloved fist, she clutched the last hope she had of a future. Well, maybe she was being a bit melodramatic, but if she wanted a roof over her head and food to eat without marrying a cruel man years older than she...the advertisement had been an answer to prayer.

She patted at the perspiration on her upper lip and stepped into the shade of the mercantile. Laura Worth had promised there would be someone there to meet her. A Samuel Cooper, the man who was to be her groom.

Of course, she’d asked Abigail not to say anything about being his bride until Laura said so. Strange. The comment had almost caused Abigail to change her mind. Then Mr. Stilkes had come knocking, again, and actually laid hands on her! That had made her decision then and there!

Miss Rogers? A deep voice behind her caused her to whirl and shriek.

She eyed the tall man in front of her. Why, she barely came to his shoulder. She shaded her eyes with her hand. Yes?

I’m Sam Cooper. Laura sent me.

Hello, I’m your...uh, guest. Yes, I’m your guest. She held out her hand.

You’re a funny little thing. He gave a lopsided grin. Where are your trunks?

Right over there. All five of them.

Five? How long are you staying?

Indefinitely. If he was as nice as he was fine looking, she was staying a good long time. I do hope they fit in the carriage.

I don’t know about a carriage, but they’ll fit in the buckboard just fine. He hefted one on his shoulders, muscles bunching beneath the blue cotton shirt he wore. We’ve a two hour ride a head of us. Might as well climb on up and make yourself comfortable.

Climb on up? She eyed the step much too high for her short stature. Perhaps you could— Before she’d finished her sentence, she found herself hoisted up and plopped onto the hard wood seat. Gracious. He’d lifted her as if she were no more than a babe.

The autumn sun blazed down in all its fury as she sat there and waited for her trunks to be loaded. She pulled a floppy hat from the carpet bag at her feet and plopped it on her head. It didn’t match the pink gown she wore, but some things couldn’t be helped.

Sam climbed into the driver’s seat, clucked his tongue to the horses, and set them off at a speed that made Abigail fear for her life. She clutched the side and closed her eyes.

How was the train ride?

Quite dirty, thank you for asking. She cut him a sideways glance. It was impossible to stay clean. I must have dirtied five handkerchiefs. And the passengers...well, some of them were quite uncouth.

He laughed, causing the horses to perk up their ears. I reckon so.

My parents died when their ship went down. I was quite devastated, although they were rarely home. I was raised by nannies most of my life. Imagine my shock when I found out I was destitute! She sighed. My father was a gambler, I discovered. Oh, how she rattled on when she was nervous, airing her dirty laundry to a stranger.

Still, she was going to marry this man so he might as well know everything about her. I sold what I could, which wasn’t much, bought a train ticket, and here I am.

Here you are. He chuckled.

She tilted her head, holding her hat in place. You aren’t much of a talker, are you?

I figure there are others who enjoy talking more than me.

Was that a jab at her, perhaps? She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to speak another word. Oh, what is that?

A hawk.

Really? She craned her neck to watch the majestic bird soar. Quite stunning. In Boston, we have wrens and sparrows, but I don’t think anything this large. Although, squirrels did scamper across our lawn and I saw a deer once. There she went again. Rattling on. No more talking, Abigail.

Do you have an indoor water closet?

Sam glanced at her as if she’d grown horns. We have a pump that brings water to the house, so I suppose you could say...yes, we have an indoor water closet.

Gracious. No indoor plumbing.

~

The girl could talk the ear off an elk. How old was she anyway? She looked about twelve, barely out of short dresses. Hair the color of cornsilk swept back into a bun, eyes the color of the Montana sky, a rosebud mouth, and a sprinkling of freckles like someone dusted her with brown sugar. Pretty. Talked