“You are Jeb Carson?” She asked again. “The Jeb Carson who wrote to me?”
“The one and the same. Miss Delilah Harris.” The rancher replied, smoothing down his graying mustache. “Or should I say Mrs. Delilah Carson.”
Jeb Carson, one of the more successful cattle ranchers in the small town of Jorgen Creek sat across the table, looking at the young woman from the big city back East.
His mail order bride had arrived by stage coach earlier that evening. She looked every bit the young, nubile city girl her black and white picture he held in his hands depicted.
“You looked a lot younger in the picture you sent me, Mr. Carson.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“That’s an old one taken a few years ago.” He said, smiling slightly. “It’s too gosh darn expensive to have a picture taken out here, you kn
