Lacy Williams by Roping the Wrangler

newspaper she’d tussled with Oscar over and skimmed to the two ads she’d circled in pencil. One man from Montana and one from Colorado. Her heart thundered for another reason as she contemplated writing an answering letter to one or both of these gentlemen. Did she dare?
    Did she have a choice? She wanted to be married, wanted to start a family of her own. None of the respectable, available businessmen in Lost Hollow seemed interested. With Sarah’s involvement with the Caldwell girls, it seemed less likely than ever that one of the men in town would want to court her.
    Being a mail-order bride was the only option for her if she wanted to marry, unless she relocated. And with her limited funds, relocation was a risk. She’d prayed and prayed about it and the answer still didn’t seem clear. She just knew she wanted to get married. Answering a marriage advertisement might be her only chance.
    Before she could change her mind, Sarah took out a blank sheet of stationary and penned a short note expressing her interest in obtaining more information about one of the prospective grooms. She found an envelope and addressed it, intending to post it between one of her calls in town.
    As she stood and slipped the letter in her dress pocket, movement outside the window drew her gaze. Sitting tall in the buggy seat, with that beat-up brown Stetson perched on his head, there was no mistaking the identity of her caller.
    Sarah hurried out of the house, only to find her boss and his wife standing on the porch.
    Oscar approached, tipping his hat off his head. His hair was matted with sweat, as if he’d already put in hours of work, though it was only midmorning. His chambray shirt heightened the breadth of his wide shoulders and Sarah’s pulse began to dance, even after the talk she’d given herself inside.
    “Morning, Mr. Allen. Mrs. Allen.” He paused, too-sharp gaze taking in Sarah’s dress and her cheeks that were now flushing with heat at his appraisal. “Sarah.”
    Mr. Allen crossed his arms over his chest. “Going for a drive? Miss Hansen, do I need to remind you that your character must remain at the highest standard?”
    Oscar opened his mouth, but before he could say anything—in defense of her or denial—Mrs. Allen broke in.
    “Oh, Paul. Let Sarah enjoy an outing with a charming young man. She’s never done anything to make you question her before.”
    Sending a grateful look at the woman who rarely dared speak out to her husband, Sarah hurried down the steps before Mr. Allen could protest any further. Oscar matched her stride across the yard to the buggy, where she hesitated when she saw the mare tied behind the cart.
    Oscar raised his brow at her, as if daring her to return to the house. She accompanied him the last few steps.
    “You’re sure she won’t be a danger—bolt or rear or turn the buggy?” Sarah murmured as he boosted her up into the seat.
    “Not really,” he answered as they came face-to-face. Then he settled her on the seat, giving her another of those half smiles and rounding the front of the buggy before she could protest.
    “You look nice today.” He turned the buggy easily out of the Allens’ yard and into the two-rutted lane toward town.
    “Thank you.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap. She glanced over her shoulder to see the mare following the buggy placidly. “How is the Caldwell place shaping up?”
    “All right. I don’t think Caldwell has been at the bottle again since I’ve been there. He hasn’t really talked to me, but the toddler has been happy and the girls have seemed more settled. I did ask him about money for getting the girls clothes but he claimed he didn’t have an extra dollar.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Well, Cecilia can’t continue much longer without shoes, even if we’ve been having a particularly mild autumn. And they both need winter coats. Pray that today will be successful and someone will offer to help.”
    “How’ve the children been in