Buy Twice Blessed: A Borrowed Brides Novella
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About the Author
After arming herself with a degree in fine arts and experience in radio, television, and film, Rebecca Hagan Lee wrote her first novel Golden Chances. Since then, she’s published numerous bestselling and award-winning novels and three novellas.
She’s won a Waldenbooks Award, a Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award, several Romantic Times awards, been nominated for an RWA Rita Award and has been published in nine languages.
She currently lives in Georgia with her husband, her two beloved Quarter Horses, and a miniature schnauzer named after literary icon Harper Lee.
Visit Rebecca’s website https://www.rhaganlee.com
Join Rebecca on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/rebeccahaganleeauthor
Books by Rebecca Hagan Lee
A Hint of Heather
Borrowed Brides Series
Golden Chances
Harvest Moon
Something Borrowed
Twice Blessed: A Borrowed Brides Novella
Harvest Moon
Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Peaceable, Wyoming Territory’
November 1872
“Help!”
David Alexander sat bolt upright in bed, instantly awake. He thought he’d heard cries for help in his sleep.
But when he sat silently for a moment, he heard nothing more.
“Was that one of your friends, Greeley?” he asked the battle-scarred cat curled up next to him. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The orange tabby arched his back, yawned, then settled back down in the warmth of the bed.
Though the cat seemed undisturbed David listened intently. It must have been a dream. He didn’t hear anything except the tinny sound of an out-of-tune piano from the saloon four doors away. Horace Greeley yawned again. David felt like doing the same. He slipped down under the sheets, pulled the quilts up over his ears, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
The pounding on the back door roused him the second time. “What does a man have to do to get a good night’s sleep around here?” he muttered, flipping back the covers. David grabbed his pants and stumbled out of bed. He hopped from one foot to the other as he pulled on his trousers, then stepped into his boots. He stamped his feet, forcing the cold leather over his woolen socks. Pausing a moment, David took time to scratch the soft fur on Greeley’s head. “Another fight, no doubt,” David muttered to the cat. “In one of the saloons.”
The pounding persisted, louder this time. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” David yelled.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he stuck his arms into a shirt before he yanked the front door open.
A skinny boy of perhaps eight or nine stood bundled up against the cold in an assortment of dirty rags. “You gotta come quick, Mr. Alexander!”
“Why? Who are you?” David asked, surprised to see a child at this time of night. Usually his midnight visitors were disreputable characters.