Claiming Their Mail-Order Bride: A Cowboy Ménage Romance (Montana Ménage Book 2)

by Lily Reynard

He could have sworn that Sarah had been upset when she returned from a visit to the necessary, but then she’d been claimed for a dance, and by the time Larkin had managed to take a turn around the floor with her, she had seemed her usual self.

  He saw Walt’s lips compress. “Let’s wait until we leave town and can speak privately.”

  Now Larkin was really curious. Other than the business of finding a vein of gold ore at their mine, it wasn’t like Walt to make a big deal of keeping secrets. And his expression looked uncharacteristically tense.

  Whatever it was that his friend wanted to discuss with Sarah, Larkin had the sudden notion that he wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.

  After leaving the noise and lights of the Hotel Bede, they were now rolling towards the outskirts of Twin Forks. The night air was refreshingly cool after the stuffy warmth inside the dining room.

  Golden light spilled out from beneath inexpertly fitting doors at some of the crude windowless shacks that crowded along either side of the wide dirt street, but most of the town was dark and silent as they passed by the black silhouettes of stores, offices, and homes.

  Miners didn’t like to waste daylight, not when each new day held the promise of striking it rich. Most of the men who attended tonight's dance would be up and working their claims as soon as it grew light enough to see.

  The one exception was Texas Mattie’s house, located on the outskirts of town. As they passed it, Larkin noted that all the windows, both upstairs and downstairs, glowed with golden lamplight pouring through lace curtains. The muffled strains of a lively tune played on the grand piano located in Mattie’s parlor drifted on breeze like perfume.

  Twin Forks’ most successful and popular soiled dove must be holding one of her infamous Friday night champagne soirées, which featured not only French champagne and music but poker games and fine imported cigars too.

  Larkin had attended his share of Mattie’s parties and enjoyed himself at each one. And it wasn’t just because of Mattie’s beauty or ample—and available—charms. She had a gift for making a man feel at home in her comfortably furnished house, for providing good food and excellent wines and spirits, and for easing any pangs of loneliness he might be feeling…at least for a night.

  But after enjoying his evening out with Sarah and Walt, Larkin was perfectly happy to be heading home to the peaceful surroundings of his ranch. If he was lucky, he’d fall asleep tonight cuddled up to Sarah in the big bed upstairs.

  And in the morning, he could look forward to a hot, tasty breakfast, served with a smile by the prettiest girl in the Montana Territory.

  Though, come to think of it, with Walt home now, Larkin wasn’t sure whether he would be sleeping in his old bed downstairs tonight. He felt a twinge of…well, not jealousy, not exactly. More like regret.

  When they had well and truly left the town behind, along with the music and lights, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the sound of rushing water from the nearby river, Walt cleared his throat.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he began. “Seeing how nicely Sarah’s been getting on at the ranch and with us two reprobates—” He paused to transfer his reins to his left hand, then draped his right arm around her shoulder, “I’d like to set a date for the wedding. Lark, you and me can toss a coin to see who stands at the altar with our girl, but we’ll get the lawyer to draw up the papers—”

  Larkin felt every muscle tighten at Walt’s words. What the hell? Didn’t I make myself clear?

  “Now wait just a doggone minute,” he interrupted. “I don’t recall agreeing to marry anyone.”

  Sarah’s already straight back straightened some more. “I thought you said you weren’t angry with me?”

  Larkin hated how hurt she sounded, especially since he was the cause of it. “And I’m not. This ain't got nothing to do with being angry.”

  “Lark.” Walt sounded exasperated. “Can’t you see that Sarah’s going to make us the perfect wife? What’s gotten into you?”

  Because I’ll be the furthest thing from a perfect husband. Or even a halfway decent husband. The words froze in his throat as an avalanche of bad memories crashed into him. He found himself unable to speak.

  “Then, is—is it something I did?” Sarah asked in a small voice. “I know I may have seemed hesitant at first, but over the past few days, I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. And I thought—well, I thought that perhaps you had overcome your aversion to me?”

  She sounded so lost and sad. Larkin damned himself for a coward for not speaking up. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her in any way.

  Which is why I can’t marry her. Why I can’t marry anyone.

  He took a deep breath. “It’s not you, Sarah. It’s me. And I think you’d make a wonderful wife…for Walt. But me, well, I guess you can say that I’m not the marrying type.”

  Even as he spoke the words, regret tasted as bitter as ashes on his tongue.

  Those few sweet days he had shared with her this week had left him with a terrible thirst for more. But he didn’t want to doom this sweet, beautiful woman to a life of misery and abuse if he yielded to the temptations that Walt was offering: a real home, maybe even children. Not for me. Never for me.

  “Larkin?” Her hand slipped into his, warm and soft. “What’s wrong? You suddenly look so sad.”

  Horrified, he realized that his expression must have betrayed him. And I used to have a mean poker face, too. Dammit.

  If nothing else, he’d learned over the course of their brief acquaintance that she paid attention to every detail, and learned fast.

  “Lark, tell us what’s troubling you,” Walt added in a gentle voice. “I reckon that maybe it would do you a world of good to talk a little. You’re among friends, and there’s no one else around to hear whatever you’ve got to say. Just us.”

  Larkin looked out into the night. His best friend and the woman that they’d both fallen for waited patiently. Finally, he sighed.

  “You remember how my Da was a drunk with a terrible temper?” he began slowly.

  Speaking his confession was hard. Harder than anything he’d done in years.

  Walt nodded, and Sarah’s hand squeezed Larkin’s.

  “Well, he made life hell for Ma and me. He wasn’t too bad when he was sober, but once he liquored up…we never knew when he’d explode or how bad it would be this time. When I'd gotten old enough to understand what was going on, I started to make a habit of pokin' Da, of misbehavin' in hopes that my old man would take it out on me, and wear out the demons inside him before he got to Ma."

  Sarah inhaled sharply and leaned into him, offering silent comfort.

  "But things just got worse and worse. When Ma fell pregnant again, and Da had a really bad day, even beating me wasn't enough to calm him down. He'd tan my hide but good out on the back porch, then stomp inside and hit Mam a few times for cryin' over me.”

  "Oh, Larkin." Sarah's voice held infinite compassion and sorrow.

  But he wasn't done talking yet. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for saying the next part out loud. “Well, as I grew up, I realized that I’m just like my Da. That’s why I won’t touch whiskey or drink more than a single glass of beer or wine at a time.”

  “I figured your Da was the reason we don’t keep spirits in the house,” Walt said quietly. “And why I’ve never seen you anywhere close to inebriated, Lark.”

  Larkin couldn’t stop the shudder that clenched his innards at the thought of what might happen if he ever got stinking drunk.

  “Well, staying away from strong drink isn’t the remedy I’d hoped it would be,” he confessed. “Walt, you know what kind of a hair-trigger I’ve got on my temper.”

  Walt gave him a slow nod, his expression solemn.

  Then Larkin forced himself to look Sarah in the face. Instead of condemnation or agreement, he saw only concern.

  I don’t ever want to hurt her. If only I could be the gentle and loving husband that she deserves! And a good father to her
children.

  “You deserve better than someone like me, Sarah,” he told her. “I can’t take the chance that I’ll end up just like my Da, someone who beats his wife or his children. But I swear I’ll do my doggone best to be a decent uncle to any kids that you and Walt end up having.”

  Sarah’s jaw set in a stubborn expression he’d only seen when she was struggling with a task and too proud to ask for help.

  “When I first met you, I feared that you might be a disagreeable curmudgeon. But in all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen that you have a kind heart. You are a loving and thoughtful man, Larkin Williams, and I believe that you’re being much too harsh on yourself. I would count myself fortunate to marry you.”

  Larkin stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. He didn’t think that anyone except Walt would ever have that kind of faith in him.

  “But I don't trust myself,” he countered. “And I can’t take the chance that one day, I'll find myself standing in the garden with a stick in my hand while the red demon rides me and I hurt the ones I love."

  “Lark, I never figured you for the stupidly noble type,” Walt drawled.

  “What do you mean?” Larkin demanded, looking away from Sarah’s sweetly earnest expression to glare at his friend.

  “I reckon I know you about as well as any human being can know another. I won't deny that you're hot-headed and liable to explode occasionally, but in all the years that we’ve been friends and brothers, I've never seen you do more than yell. And I've seen how all-fired cautious you are around everyone—including me—when your dander is up."

  “But—” Lark began to object.

  Walt shook his head and interrupted. "Lark, how about I make you a deal?"

  "What kind of deal?" Suspicion flared.

  Walt was up to something. His friend might be soft-spoken, but he could be a crafty bastard.

  Hell, Sarah wouldn't even be here right now, complicating things, except for Walt and his plans.

  Walt blew out an exasperated breath.

  "I know you'd never do to anyone the kinds of things your Da did to you and your mother," he began.

  Larkin began to protest, but Walt cut him off again.

  "Let me finish. Look, I know what kind of man you are, but I also know that you don't believe it. So, here's my deal. If you're willing to take a chance on getting hitched with Sarah and me, then I promise that I'll protect her. If I ever see you starting to act like your father, I'll step in and knock some sense back into you." He smiled, a sweet smile that lit up his blue eyes. "But I'm willing to bet you a twenty-dollar gold piece that I'll never have to do any of that, Lark, because you're not your Da, and you're always looking inside yourself to make sure you don't become like him."

  At his friend's words, the heavy burden of fear and guilt that Larkin had carried for years began to dissipate. Walt believes in me. So does Sarah.

  Walt and his parents had always believed in Larkin. Larkin just hadn't believed in himself. And maybe it's time that changed.

  He still couldn't quite bring himself to trust this piece of luck. He looked at Walt and Sarah, who were waiting patiently for his reply. Walt still had his arm around Sarah, and they looked like the perfect couple.

  "And if I did say 'yes' to this balmy scheme of yours, are you really willing to share Sarah with me? It wouldn't be like spending an hour with one of the upstairs girls. It would be forever. Are you sure you wouldn't get jealous?"

  "Darn tootin' sure," Walt said. "I love seeing you and her together. You're my two favorite people in the world. I want us to be a family, and I don't care what anyone else thinks." He stretched out his hand. His smile felt like sunlight on Larkin’s heart.

  "So, what do you say?" Walt asked.

  "Will you marry me, Larkin Williams?" Sarah sounded shy, but she didn’t relinquish the firm grip she had on his hand. Then she raised her chin and added, "Or do you want me to go down on my knee and propose that way?"

  Larkin laughed with pure happiness. He couldn't believe his luck. He was sitting here with his best friend and the most beautiful woman—and best cook—in the Montana Territory, and they both wanted Larkin to join them and become a real family.

  Forever.

  Walt and Sarah’s faith in him broke the stony walls around his heart wide open.

  "Yeah. Okay," Larkin said, and realized that he was smiling so hard that his cheeks ached. "Hell yeah, I'll marry you, Sarah. And I'll trust Walt here to pull the brakes on me if I start to go off the rails."

  “You two have made me the happiest woman on earth,” Sarah said, looking radiant in the golden lamplight.

  Larkin began to pull her close so that he could give her a proper kiss.

  The sound of hoofbeats suddenly sounded behind the wagon.

  “Walt! Lark!” A familiar voice hailed them.

  All three of them turned to see Sheriff Plummer ride up. The silver badge pinned to his coat shimmered in the lantern light. “I was just at Mrs. K’s dance, looking for you boys and Miss Hunter here. Glad I caught up with y’all before you got too far out of town.”

  “Howdy Sheriff,” Walt said. “What can we do for you?”

  “I have a few questions for Miss Hunter,” Plummer replied, looking Sarah up and down.

  Something about the way that Plummer was saying her name set alarm bells ringing in Larkin’s mind.

  Next to him, Sarah went rigid, and her grip on his hand suddenly tightened.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  At the sheriff’s appearance, Larkin released Sarah's hand as if it had suddenly become a burning coal.

  “Miss Hunter.” Sheriff Plummer lifted his hat briefly. His tone and the gesture were both polite, but his gaze was unnervingly intense as he studied her with a thoughtful frown. “No more purple, huh?”

  A moment ago, Sarah had been so happy and relieved. Everything was going to work out between herself, Walt, and Larkin.

  The fresh start that Liza had promised her was finally coming true, and she would do everything in her power to ensure that her two men never regretted their decision.

  The more time she spent with Walt and Larkin, the more certain she became that marrying them both felt utterly right, no matter how scandalous and unconventional such an arrangement might seem to the rest of the world.

  And when they returned to the ranch house tonight, what would happen? Would they both take her to bed?

  A frisson of wicked excitement had run through her, leavened with a healthy dose of nerves.

  Except here was Sheriff Plummer, who apparently had some urgent questions to ask her.

  “To tell you the truth, I miss the purple,” Walt commented before Sarah could formulate a response to Plummer’s comment. “Now, sheriff, what’s so all-fired urgent that you had to track us down in the middle of the night?”

  “I received a few telegrams this afternoon about a missing woman.”

  Sarah’s giddy happiness instantly transmuted to guilty terror. Her mind went blank. She instinctively inched closer to Walt, drawing comfort from the arm still slung around her shoulders.

  “We haven’t seen any new women around town,” Larkin said. “Did your telegram contain any details?”

  Plummer pinned Sarah with a sharp look as he spoke. “A fellow by the name of Phillip Franklin in Boston is looking for his runaway daughter, and he’s offering a $2,000 reward for her safe return.”

  Sarah inhaled sharply. Where on earth did Father get hold of such an astronomical sum?

  The answer was obvious. Mr. Burgess had to be the one behind that large reward, since there was no way on earth that her father could have scraped together that much money in the fortnight since she had left Boston.

  “That’s quite a large sum,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so breathy with nerves.

  “It sure is,” the sheriff agreed. “Apparently Mr. Franklin hired private detectives to find his daughter, and they discovered that she bought herself train tickets to But
te.”

  Sarah suddenly felt short of breath. Her head whirled and she leaned against Walt for support, all too aware of the sharp look that Larkin was now giving her.

  Do I tell them all the truth right now? Do I dare?

  “You got a name for this missing woman?” asked Larkin.

  “Indeed, I do. I’m looking for a Miss Sarah Franklin.” The sheriff pinned Sarah with his gaze. “So, Miss Hunter, is there something that you’d like to tell us?”

  Oh, God. He knows. Her vision danced with colored speckles. Sarah had never fainted in her life, but she wondered if she was about to do so now.

  “I—I don’t think so,” she said. “Why?”