by Cora Seton
Walker used to think he was a patient man and he’d used his quiet, watchful skills to rise in the ranks of the Navy to Lieutenant. Back when he’d first come here to Chance Creek, it had amused him the way that Avery and her friends had used that rank indiscriminately when they referred to the other men who’d joined him. It drove Boone, Clay and Jericho—all of them Navy SEALs, but none of them Lieutenants—crazy, but as a man who’d taken English literature at Bozeman State University and had read Jane Austen, he understood the reference. Even back then, Avery and her friends had seen them as possible suitors. At first it had been a joke. Then it had gotten far more serious. Ten and a half months later, the initial eight inhabitants of Westfield ranch, four men camped out around the bunkhouse and four women living at the three-story stone manor atop the hill, had swelled to twenty-two.
The women’s intent to live a Regency-inspired life of artistic pursuits had been gobbled up by the men’s desire to build a model sustainable community and all of them had ended up at the mercy of Martin Fulsom’s whims. Fulsom was funding the project and had launched a reality television series to document their progress. Walker found it hard to believe sometimes that they had made it this far.
The light grew brighter, the gray of the early-morning sky dissolving into blue. It would be another unseasonably warm spring day.
As light, running footsteps sounded in the distance, Walker knew Base Camp’s fate depended on what he did in the next twenty-four hours. Today he’d stand up with his friend, Angus McBride, as Angus married Win Lisle. Tomorrow he’d face his own destiny.
The footsteps came closer and Walker straightened. So far he and his friends had met every one of Fulsom’s conditions to win the ranch upon which they were building their sustainable community. They’d built ten energy-efficient tiny houses and a power grid that used renewable resources to run them. They’d grown and raised all the food they needed to get through the winter, even though it had been touch and go for a while after their first harvest had been stolen. Nine out of the ten men who’d started the project, all Navy SEALs, had married, along with one of the camera crew members who’d joined them. Six of their wives were pregnant, and one child had been born already.
The only hurdle still to jump before they won ownership of Base Camp—and Westfield ranch—was his own marriage. Starting tomorrow, he’d have forty days to get it done.
He planned to be engaged in forty-eight hours.
Clay Picket came into view, jogging down the two-lane highway like he’d done every morning since they’d come here—barring blizzards. It had been a long time since Walker had met him out here, but he’d woken up nostalgic today. Being so close to the end of the year made it hard not to think about how this project had all gotten started.
He drew back among the trees as Clay approached, waited for the other man to draw near, then sprung out at him just as Clay passed.
“Morning!”
“Hell, Walker!” Clay stumbled, caught himself, careened to a stop and stood there panting, hands on his hips. “What are you doing?”
“You’re getting soft,” Walker said. “I was standing right here. You didn’t even notice.”
“I wasn’t expecting an ambush.”
“Which is exactly when you should be vigilant.”
Clay shook his head at him. “You never change, do you?”
“Let’s finish the run.” Walker started an easy jog and soon Clay caught up to him, still shaking his head.
“You took a couple of years off my life.”
“Nah,” Walker said. He’d missed getting out early and getting some exercise in. With all the patrols they’d had to do since last fall and all the snow on the ground, he’d gotten out of the habit. He worked hard tending the bison herd and the other critters on the ranch with Avery’s help, but a good jog now and then cleared the mind.
“You worried about Avery?” Clay asked.
Walker shrugged. He knew what Clay meant; he and Avery had been on the outs lately since he’d allowed himself to be tricked into believing she’d stolen a family heirloom from him. Clem Saunders, a famous TV personality and director, had been sent by Fulsom to stir up drama on the show and he’d done a good job of it, piecing together film footage in a way that incriminated Avery and made it seem like she’d taken the ceremonial fan that had been passed down through generations in his family. The fan was a traditional Crow object, used in the dances he participated in on the reservation where his father had grown up. It meant a lot to him and he’d recently learned that Avery had been filming an online show called Stealing From SEALs without any of them realizing it. She’d pilfered all kinds of things from all kinds of people at Base Camp—and had given them all back, too. Clem had done a good job making it seem like she’d targeted his fan for special treatment. Walker had been a fool to doubt her.
Now he was paying the price.
Even though he’d been showering her with gifts lately, she’d remained cold, until he’d had a brainstorm and had given her the fan itself. The tears in her eyes when she accepted it told him he still could have her heart—just as soon as he was free to ask for it. Which should be in about thirty-six hours.
“Got it under control,” he said to Clay.
“Really? Did she agree to marry you?”
“Not yet,” Walker conceded. “Haven’t asked her yet.”
“Why not?”
“One more thing to do.”
One big thing. Luckily, it didn’t require much action on his part. Just a little more patience. Tonight he’d enjoy Angus and Win’s wedding. Tomorrow he’d go to his grandmother’s house on the Crow reservation nearby. He and Sue would wait for Elizabeth Blaine to arrive, granddaughter of Sue’s best friend, Netta Blaine, who’d passed away last year.
And then Elizabeth would set him free from the promise their grandmothers had made each other thirty years ago.
Walker nodded in satisfaction as Angus waltzed past with his new wife.
For far too long he’d walked under the shadow of a past he’d had no hand in, bound by promises made by others when he was only a child. He counted himself an honorable man and as such he’d done his duty to his family by growing up, keeping out of trouble and getting his degree. He’d served his country in the Navy for well over a decade, most of that time in the SEALs. He’d made himself into the man his grandmother, Sue Norton, expected him to be. Even before his father’s death, she’d been the one to make a home for him on the Crow reservation and she’d done most of the raising of him, with a little help from his maternal grandparents in town and a whole lot less from his mother.
Tomorrow Sue expected him to hold up his side of the bargain she’d made for him before he’d learned to talk. Being honorable, he’d certainly go through the motions. He’d show up at DelMonacos, the restaurant she’d chosen for the grand occasion. He’d greet Elizabeth Blaine, the woman she expected him to marry in order to heal the wounds his father had caused. And then he’d sit back and let Elizabeth explain that as a woman of the twenty-first century she had no intention of letting a couple of old biddies saddle her with a husband she didn’t want.
“Hey, wait up!” Clay called.
Walker realized he’d put on a burst of speed and left him behind. “Gotta meet Avery,” he called back and kept going.
“Avery—wait up!”
Avery Lightfoot paused on the front stoop of the bunkhouse and waited for Eve Olsen to grab her jacket and follow her outside. Both of them were dressed for another era, following Base Camp tradition. Avery and three of her friends had first come to Westfield ranch nearly a year ago, prepared to disappear from the rest of the world for six months and spend all their time at their artistic pursuits. Avery, a thwarted actress, meant to write a screenplay and devote herself to finding a way to making a living in film. In some ways, she’d achieved those goals, but not in the way she’d hoped.
She still yearned to act in romantic comedies—or romantic dramas—or just about any role th
at featured a love story. As the child of one of the most romantic couples she’d ever known, how could she long for anything but?
She, Riley, Savannah and Nora, who’d all roomed together in college, had come up with the idea of dressing in Regency clothes as a joke, at first, and then a more serious commitment to their plan. The idea was that if they dressed in old-fashioned outfits they’d be too embarrassed to leave the ranch and instead would spend hours each day pursuing their goals, and more hours walking around like Jane Austen heroines, with only the natural landscape to distract them. Surely six months of that would produce all kinds of screenplays, novels, music and art.
It hadn’t quite worked out that way, but here they were, still in their Regency gowns. All the women who’d joined Base Camp, the sustainable community they were participating in, had adopted the style, as well.
Avery didn’t mind; she loved anything beautiful and their dresses certainly were that. Besides, anything remotely connected to Jane Austen had to be romantic—right?
Unfortunately, the romance she was currently conducting with Walker, a huge, quiet, frustrating Native American man who she adored despite herself, was turning out far more gothic than Regency with each passing day.
Walker had to marry in forty days. She was sure he liked her—cared for her—even loved her.
But he’d been “promised” to some other woman he wouldn’t name or discuss, whatever that meant.
It was all infuriating.
“What’s up?” she asked Eve, ready to think about anything else than her current predicament.
“Are you excited about the commission?”
Avery could see that Eve was. She probably should be thrilled that Martin Fulsom wanted to fund a two-hour retrospective on Base Camp—the reality television show they’d all been a part of since last June. Instead of having his own film crews handle the production, which would be the sensible thing to do, he’d offered it to Eve, Renata Devon and herself, since they were trying to start a film production company here.
“I think it’s really nice of Fulsom,” Avery managed.
“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic,” Eve said.
“You know I really want to do feature films. All I ever get to do is documentary-style stuff. Where’s the story? Where’s the love?”
“I think there’s plenty of love stories at Base Camp.”
“You know what I mean,” Avery groaned. “I just feel like I’ll never get to do what I really want to do.”
“It’s just one show, and we’ll have to do it fast, anyway. Renata wants to meet tomorrow. We need to start going through old footage and figure out a storyline to pull it together in a new way. That’s a challenge for you, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” But it wasn’t the challenge she wanted. She wanted to work on a real movie. And act in it, too. She wanted to play a character who found love in the strangest place, or despite all odds. She wanted a fairy-tale wedding at the end. A final look back where she held a baby in her arms. She wanted so damn much.
That was her problem.
“It’s Walker and that promise Sue made about him. It’s got you tied up in knots,” Eve said.
“How can Sue think she has any say in who he marries—and why is Walker letting her?” Avery burst out. “I don’t get how a grandmother could have that much control over her grandson, even if she did raise him.”
“Sue is pretty fierce.” Eve smiled and touched her arm. “Don’t panic. Walker loves you—everyone knows that. He’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t even know why I want him to figure it out. Or why I’ve hung around waiting for him all this time.”
“Because you love him,” Eve said simply. “That’s not something you can control—it just is. Hang in there a little while longer.”
“Sure,” Avery said. “I’d better get to my chores.” As much as she enjoyed Eve’s company, she didn’t want to be around anyone today. Tonight Win and Angus would marry and she’d stand by to watch two more of her friends pledge their lives and love to each other.
Then she’d go to bed alone. Wake up alone. And nothing would ever change.
Click to read more of A SEAL’s Triumph
The Cowboys of Chance Creek Series:
The Cowboy Inherits a Bride (Volume 0)
The Cowboy’s E-Mail Order Bride (Volume 1)
The Cowboy Wins a Bride (Volume 2)
The Cowboy Imports a Bride (Volume 3)
The Cowgirl Ropes a Billionaire (Volume 4)
The Sheriff Catches a Bride (Volume 5)
The Cowboy Lassos a Bride (Volume 6)
The Cowboy Rescues a Bride (Volume 7)
The Cowboy Earns a Bride (Volume 8)
The Cowboy’s Christmas Bride (Volume 9)
The Heroes of Chance Creek Series:
The Navy SEAL’s E-Mail Order Bride (Volume 1)
The Soldier’s E-Mail Order Bride (Volume 2)
The Marine’s E-Mail Order Bride (Volume 3)
The Navy SEAL’s Christmas Bride (Volume 4)
The Airman’s E-Mail Order Bride (Volume 5)
The SEALs of Chance Creek Series:
A SEAL’s Oath
A SEAL’s Vow
A SEAL’s Pledge
A SEAL’s Consent
A SEAL’s Purpose
A SEAL’s Resolve
A SEAL’s Devotion
A SEAL’s Desire
A SEAL’s Struggle
A SEAL’s Triumph
The Brides of Chance Creek Series:
Issued to the Bride One Navy SEAL
Issued to the Bride One Airman
Issued to the Bride One Sniper
Issued to the Bride One Marine
Issued to the Bride One Soldier
The Turners v. Coopers Series:
The Cowboy’s Secret Bride (Volume 1)
The Cowboy’s Outlaw Bride (Volume 2)
The Cowboy’s Hidden Bride (Volume 3)
The Cowboy’s Stolen Bride (Volume 4)
The Cowboy’s Forbidden Bride (Volume 5)
About the Author
With over one million books sold, NYT and USA Today bestselling author Cora Seton has created a world readers love in Chance Creek, Montana. She has twenty-eight novels and novellas currently set in her fictional town, with many more in the works. Like her characters, Cora loves cowboys, military heroes, country life, gardening, bike-riding, binge-watching Jane Austen movies, keeping up with the latest technology and indulging in old-fashioned pursuits. Visit www.coraseton.com to read about new releases, contests and other cool events!
Blog:
www.coraseton.com
Facebook:
facebook.com/coraseton
Twitter:
twitter.com/coraseton
Newsletter:
www.coraseton.com/sign-up-for-my-newsletter
