“His wits were good, too. He was known for coming up with a plan at a dead run, yet right now he found himself dumbfounded. “What?” “Mick’s mail-order bride is waiting for him at the hotel in Huron.” Walt Darter’s scratchy voice repeating exactly what he’d said a moment ago made about as much sense the second time around as it had the first. This time Stafford added a few more words to his question. “What are you talking about?” He set his cup down and dug his fingers into hair that sore...ly needed a good cutting. His scalp had started to tingle and he scratched at it. Eerily. “Mick didn’t order a bride.” “That’s not what she says.” Walt couldn’t have looked more stone-cold serious if he’d been standing before a judge and jury. “Who?” “Miss Marie Hall.” The old man’s face was sunburned from years of riding in the summer sun, and as he said her name a grin formed and his chest puffed with pride as if he’d just announced he’d found a goose that laid golden eggs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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