Romancing The Runaway Bride. Karen Kirst
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Many blessings,
Karen Kirst
A man’s heart deviseth his way:
but the Lord directeth his steps.
—Proverbs 16:9
To my mom, Dorothy Kirst, and my sister, Shelly Benson. I’m blessed to have you both! Thanks for making my first writing conference an experience I never want to forget. Thanks for the laughs and fun memories.
A huge thank-you to editor Elizabeth Mazer. I’ve enjoyed working with you on this project. And to the other Return to Cowboy Creek authors, Cheryl St.John and Sherri Shackelford. It’s been a pleasure.
Contents
Cowboy Creek, Kansas June 1869
There was a blindfolded woman in the boardinghouse kitchen.
Adam Halloway’s training kicked in. He reached for his gun out of habit, only to come up empty. His gun belt and Pinkerton detective badge were tucked away in his saddlebags, where they’d stay for the duration of this investigation.
He scanned the spacious room. It looked like an average kitchen with the usual equipment. Sunlight streamed through filmy lace curtains, painting the bulky working table and floorboards in innocent light. No evil villains lurked in the corners.
His narrowed gaze returned to the woman and made a quick assessment of her appearance. Short of stature, brunette, young. How young was impossible to say with part of her face hidden by a swath of black material. Her posture didn’t scream distress.
He finally noticed the twin saucers of unfrosted cake on the table in front of her. Bowls of assorted sizes littered the far end, and baking tins crowded the hulking stove behind her. With one foot in the kitchen and one in the hallway, he watched as she lifted a bite to her mouth and chewed. A pleat furrowed her brow. She cocked her head to the right. Chewed some more.
What on earth was she doing?
The sense of urgency