The Cowboy's Orphan Bride

He’d known plenty of girls on the streets, but he’d never seen or heard of a girl who’d laid into a constable the way Bridgette had. Even while being carried down the hall by one of the nursemaids, she’d continued to rant about the wrongness of hitting a child.

Later, when he’d seen her again, he’d pointed out that she was a child. She’d said exactly, who was better to know the wrongness of hitting a child than a child.

He hadn’t been able to argue that point, but they hadn’t formed a friendship until after he’d been brought to the Children’s Home the second time, when she’d snuck food to him when he’d been forced to complete chores during mealtimes as punishment for running away. After that, they’d spent plenty of time in each other’s company.

Until Kansas City, where he’d been distributed.

“You, uh, gonna give that back?”

Garth looked at the bottle and then Cecil before answering, “No.” He walked toward his horse.

“You heading back to your herd?”

Cecil was on his heels, and Garth barely paused to grab the reins of his mount. “No.” He led the horse to the side of the barn, into the shade, and loosened its girth.

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