Here, as a special bonus for readers of Debbie Macomber’s DAKOTA series, is an exclusive short story.
You’ll see that the events in The Farmer Takes a Wife actually pre-date those in the trilogy stories—Dakota Born, Dakota Home and Always Dakota. You’ll recognise a number of places in Buffalo Valley, like Hassie’s shop and the Hansens’ grocery store (before Maddie took over, of course). And you’ll recognise the warmth, truth and lightheartedness you’ve come to expect from Debbie’s books.
Enjoy this brief journey to Buffalo Valley the way it was before Lindsay Snyder and Maddy Washburn arrived!
Make time for friends. Make time for
Debbie Macomber
CEDAR COVE
16 Lighthouse Road
204 Rosewood Lane
311 Pelican Court
44 Cranberry Point
50 Harbor Street
6 Rainier Drive
74 Seaside Avenue
8 Sandpiper Way
92 Pacific Boulevard
1022 Evergreen Place
1105 Yakima Street
A Merry Little Christmas
(featuring 1225 Christmas Tree Lane and 5-B Poppy Lane)
BLOSSOM STREET
The Shop on Blossom Street
A Good Yarn
Susannah’s Garden
(previously published as Old Boyfriends)
Back on Blossom Street
(previously published as Wednesdays at Four)
Twenty Wishes
Summer on Blossom Street
Hannah’s List
A Turn in the Road
Thursdays at Eight
Christmas in Seattle
Falling for Christmas
Angels at Christmas
A Mother’s Gift
A Mother’s Wish
Happy Mother’s Day
Be My Valentine
THE MANNINGS
The Manning Sisters
The Manning Brides
The Manning Grooms
Summer in Orchard Valley
THE DAKOTAS
Dakota Born
Dakota Home
Always Dakota
The Farmer Takes a Wife
(Exclusive short story)
About the Author
DEBBIE MACOMBER is a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her recent books include 44 Cranberry Point, 50 Harbor Street, 6 Rainier Drive and Hannah’s List. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list. There are more than a hundred million copies of her books in print. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit www.DebbieMacomber.com.
The Farmer Takes a Wife
Debbie Macomber
One
Dave Stafford needed a wife, and he wasn’t in any position to be choosy. He was thirty-seven and lived alone, more than thirty miles from the closest town. Buffalo Valley, North Dakota, was nothing to brag about, either. It had been a thriving community once upon a time, but not now, not with the virtual collapse of the farm economy. A lot of people had been forced to leave Buffalo Valley, abandoning homes and property, in search of jobs.
Dave did all right, though. He owned three thousand acres and grew soybeans, sunflowers and wheat. The work was hard and his days were long, which didn’t leave much time for seeking female companionship. Compared to those pretty boys in magazine ads, Dave figured he wasn’t much to look at; however, he also figured that as a prospective husband, he wasn’t such a bad bargain. He was solvent and reasonably successful. He paid his bills on time and was clean (regular baths), healthy (all that fresh air) and without serious vices. None of that sounded very exciting, and he suspected it might not be enough of an endorsement to attract a woman, but it was all he had to offer.
That was the reason he’d placed a personal ad in the Farmer’s Newsletter, a national publication. The wording hadn’t been easy. He’d spent almost a week writing and rewriting the few short lines, and in the end, he felt the direct approach seemed best and that was what he’d sent.
LONELY FARMER SEEKS WIFE OF CHILD-BEARING AGE. PREFER NON-SMOKER. MUST LIKE COUNTRY LIFE. I’M HONEST, FAIR AND DECENT. FOURTH-GENERATION FARMER AND PROUD OF IT.
He’d tried to fit in a line that stated he wasn’t interested in a woman who’d had parts of her body pierced or tattooed, but couldn’t think of a way to say it. The ad had appeared in the singles column a month earlier, and despite the effort that had gone into writing it, he’d received only one response.
One. Her name was Emma Fowler, and she was a thirty-year-old woman from Seattle. She hadn’t mentioned how she’d happened upon the ad, but considering everything else he still had to learn about her, that didn’t seem important. Her job—routing delivery trucks for a produce supplier—might have something to do with it. He could picture a copy of the Farmer’s Newsletter lying around the lunchroom and maybe that was how she’d found it.
What was important was that they were going to meet that very day, late in the afternoon since her plane was getting into Grand Forks around four. Dave’s stomach had been tied up in knots all week as he anticipated this dinner date. Well, he supposed he could refer to it as a “date.” He’d shaved, had his mother take a pair of scissors to his hair and ordered a new shirt. This was it—as cleaned-up as he got. He’d sent Emma his photograph, taken for this purpose by a friend, another farmer named Gage Sinclair. Dave had been standing in front of his farmhouse, which looked a little shabby in the bright light of an April morning. He was six feet tall with wide shoulders and a sun-reddened neck, and he’d been wearing a cap that covered his thick dark hair and shaded his brown eyes. She’d mailed him her photograph, too. She was fairly ordinary in appearance, a little on the short side, but that didn’t bother him. Her hair was dark blond and even from a distance he could tell that her eyes were a pretty shade of green. He wasn’t looking for some stunning beauty—and didn’t expect to find one. What he wanted was a woman with simple tastes, someone who could appreciate quiet, who didn’t need to be constantly entertained and wasn’t afraid of a little solitude. Someone who shared his values, understood the importance of family and community. A woman who’d sit beside him on the porch and listen to birdsong at dawn, watch the sunset, breathe in the good, rich smell of freshly turned earth. Simple pleasures.
“You ready?” His mother checked him over one last time.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She clearly considered this meeting