by Grafford, Jo
Dare-Devil Daisy
Mail Order Brides Rescue Series, Book #5
Jo Grafford
Contents
Also by Jo Grafford
About this Series
Introduction
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1: The Favor
Chapter 2: The Heist
Chapter 3: Castles and Dreams
Chapter 4: Mountain Hideaway
Chapter 5: Compromised
Chapter 6: Excuses
Chapter 7: Duty, Honor, and Love
Chapter 8: Showdown!
Chapter 9: Promises
Sneak Preview: Outrageous Olivia
Sneak Preview: Wanted Bounty Hunter
Sneak Preview: Her Billionaire Boss
Read More Jo
Also by Jo Grafford
Mail Order Brides Rescue Series
written exclusively by Jo Grafford
Hot-Tempered Hannah
Cold-Feet Callie
Fiery Felicity
Misunderstood Meg
Dare-Devil Daisy
The Lawkeepers
A Multi-Author Series
Lawfully Ours
Lawfully Loyal — coming September, 2019
Ornamental Match Maker Series
A Mini-Series within a Multi-Author Series
Angel Cookie Christmas
Star Studded Christmas
Stolen Heart Valentine
Miracle for Christmas in July
Whispers In Wyoming
A Multi-Author Series
His Wish, Her Command
His Heart, Her Love
Other Multi-Author Series Books
Silverpines Series #27 —Wanted: Bounty Hunter
Sailors and Saints #3 — The Sailor and the Surgeon
Her Billionaire Series
written exclusively by Jo Grafford
Her Billionaire Boss
Her Billionaire Bodyguard — coming soon!
Lost Colony Series
written exclusively by Jo Grafford
Breaking Ties
Trail of Crosses
Into the Mainland
Higher Tides (Series Finale) — coming soon!
To receive a personal email each time Jo releases a new book, sign up for her New Release Email at www.JoGrafford.com or follow her on Bookbub at www.bookbub.com/authors/jo-grafford.
About this Series
The only mail order bride company with an insurance policy enforced by the Gallant Rescue Society — No extra cost!
The Gallant Rescue Society Oath
“I hereby solemnly pledge my gun and my honor to the Gallant Rescue Society.
To be called upon day or night.
To rescue any Bride-To-Be from any undesirable circumstance on her journey to meet her Groom.
To return her (if at all possible) with her virtue intact to the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Company.
No questions asked.
So help me, God.”
Introduction
To the world, Daisy Danvers is a spoiled young debutante from Boston who always gets what she wants. But she has secrets — big, festering secrets she doesn’t want her best friend, Meg Nicholson, to find out. All she needs from Meg is a promise to help her find the perfect husband the moment she steps off the train in Headstone, Arizona. Her very life might depend upon it.
She never dreamed her troubles would follow her out West, and a whole posse of armed robbers would be waiting for her when she disembarked. She also never dreamed a cocky cowboy would sweep her away to safety on his horse.
It’s way too bad the devilishly handsome Prescott Barra claims he’s already affianced to another woman, because he’s everything she’s been looking for in a husband. He’s brave and fearless with a streak of adventure as wide as the canyons they’re riding. When she discovers he has a secret or two of his own, she begins to hope that maybe — just maybe — their secrets will lead them to each other.
Copyright © 2019 by Jo Grafford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-944794-34-7
Acknowledgments
Many, many thanks to my beta readers Trudy Cordle, Jhommie Giorla Kem-ing, and Amy Petrowich for reading and sharing their thoughts on this story. I am also wildly grateful to my Cuppa Jo Readers on Facebook for reading and loving my books. I adore you ladies so much!
New readers are always welcome to join us at https://www.facebook.com/groups/CuppaJoReaders for book chats, sneak peeks, parties, cover reveals, games, giveaways, and more!
Much love, Jo
Chapter 1: The Favor
Prescott
Prescott Barra was desperately weary of his two older brothers, Levi and Tennyson, strutting around like lords of the manor on the homestead they jointly owned. So they’d both managed to wed themselves uppity women from the East? Tennyson had tied the knot with a lovely debutant named Callie, and Levi was head over heels in love with his lawyer wife named Felicity.
It’s not that he had anything against either woman; they both seemed nice enough. It’s just that he was fresh out of temper with the way Levi and Tennyson had persisted in trying to manage the lives of their two younger brothers ever since they’d gotten hitched — as if becoming married men somehow gave them the right to stick their noses in other folks’ business.
They could manage Dodge all they wanted; he was barely seventeen and still in school; but Prescott needed to find a way to set the record straight about his own life. He was pushing twenty, was no longer in school, and didn’t require older brothers trying to double as nursemaids.
For the fifth straight week in a row, he nosed his horse in the direction of the Nicholson ranch. There wasn’t another rodeo scheduled for him to ride in for a good two weeks, so he was bored out of his mind. And though he held a profitable percentage in the yellow diamond mine at Hope’s Landing, it seemed he wasn’t much cut out for administration. One of his primary responsibilities was training new hires, but it would be days before they ushered in their next round of recruits.
Fortunately, his other responsibility was overseeing their various construction projects. There weren’t any current buildings being raised at Hope’s Landing, but there sure were plenty of them being built at the Nicholson ranch. Thankfully, the majority shareholders of the mine, Gabe and Hannah Donovan, had seen fit to subcontract out his services to them.
Shad Nicholson was their closest neighbor and a federal marshal to boot. Prescott had liked the fellow ever since he’d gone toe to toe with the diabolical Traxtons and their human trafficking cronies. He was proud of the fact he’d ridden with the posse that the man’s wife, Meg, had summoned during their final showdown against the Traxtons. Thanks to her quick thinking, the desperadoes were behind bars, and her husband was still alive.
Maybe it was because Shad Nicholson didn’t stand half a foot above the rest of humanity like the tall, dark, and rugged Barra brothers. Or maybe it was because Shad had nothing to prove like the social climbing older Barras who seemed anxious to leave behind their wild oats reputation after practically raising themselves. All Prescott knew was that he was comfortable working around the marshal. Most importantly, Shad treated him like a man instead of a boy, like a friend and equal instead of a younger brother.
He’d be lying to himself, though, if he claimed Shad’s regard was the only reason he kept c
oming to work at the Nicholson’s ranch. The truth was, he wasn’t just bored; he was lonely. And maybe just a wee bit envious of the happiness his older brothers had found with their stunningly gorgeous new wives…
With a grunt of self-disgust, he dismounted his horse at the large double doors of the Nicholson’s main barn. Miguel, Shad’s right-hand man, was waiting for him, coppery arms crossed. From what he gathered, the man more or less ran the place during Shad’s many extended absences as a lawman. He oversaw the ranch hands and the day-to-day operations of the ranch itself, while his wife, Valentina, seemed to be in charge of the household staff and the various endeavors of the womenfolk. They helped harvest the crops, wove woolen cloth, and ran a thriving boutique down the road, to name a few of their worthy causes.
“You are late, amigo.” Miguel seemed to have a permanent scowl painted across his sunburnt features.
Prescott snorted. He didn’t report to Miguel, nor did he have a set arrival time. “How’s the chapel coming along?” It was their latest construction project. For reasons Miguel didn’t explain, he seemed anxious to finish it within the week.
“Your men paint today.” His English wasn’t perfect, but it was improving after several months of working with Prescott’s crew.
Prescott nodded. “I’ll go check on their progress for myself.” He’d tasked them to arrive at sunup to maximize their use of daylight hours. It was best to get all the exterior finish work done while the weather was holding. One never knew when a sandstorm would blow through and delay their efforts for days.
“No, amigo. Señorita Meg must see you first.” He unfolded his arms, reached for the reins of Prescott’s horse, and hitched one thumb towards the main ranch house.
Prescott’s brows rose. The classically beautiful Meg Nicholson wanted to speak with him? Whatever for? He had work to do — real work — that did not include sipping tea with someone else’s new wife no matter how easy she was on the eyes.
A harried glance at Miguel proved the man was already leading his horse away to be brushed down and watered. Ah, so be it! With a growl of irritation, he stomped towards the ranch house. He’d hear whatever the princess of the house had to say, wave away her blasted tea, and be on his way to the construction site in no time.
Figuring it was most proper to knock at the front door instead of the back, he strode around the enormous, wrap-around porch. His steps slowed. Meg Nicholson was sitting in a rocker on the front porch with an expectant expression and a belly beneath her emerald gown that looked ready to burst.
Her hazel eyes lit, and she stood.
“Please.” He increased his stride, hurrying in her direction with his hands raised. “Do not stand on my account. A woman in your condition…” He let his words dwindle, realizing he knew exactly nothing about women in her condition.
She laughed merrily and sat, motioning him to take a seat in the rocker next to hers.
He arched one brow at her, took the porch stairs two at a time, and lounged back against the railing. He might have answered her royal summons, but there was no way he would be caught dead by any passers-by rocking like some wizened old granny on her front porch.
“La, but you’re so tall you’re making my neck hurt,” she teased with a delicious little feminine chuckle.
He sat, feeling foolish, and prayed there would be no witnesses to the fact he’d traded in his horse for a rocker this morning.
Meg’s smile disappeared. “I am grateful you were willing to take the time to meet with me. I declare, with Shad constantly dashing out of town, I hardly knew who else to turn to.”
She had his full attention now. Whatever she wanted to discuss sounded dreadfully serious. “Anything,” he assured. His own regard for Shad bordered on idol worship, not that anyone needed to know that foolish fact. He’d do just about anything to help the man in his absence.
“Ah.” Meg shook her head, sending her long, blonde corkscrew curls dancing. “I’m forgetting my manners. Would you care for some tea? Valentina is brewing a fresh pot.”
So help me, no! He waved his hand to turn down the frivolous offer to tip teacups with her and hoped he managed to hide his grimace.
“In that case,” she sighed. “Back to the troublesome matter at hand.” She unfolded a letter he’d not noticed she was holding until just this moment, scanned its contents, and closed her eyes as if in distress.
“What is it, madam?” He leaned forward anxiously. “If you’re in any sort of trouble…” He’d move heaven or hell to make whatever needed to be made right for Shad’s wife.
“I am not in trouble.” She opened her eyelids to reveal a gaze drenched in concern. “But a dear friend is.”
“Oh?” He rested his elbows on his knees, waiting for her to continue.
“Technically, I don’t know her half as well as I’d like. My father never permitted us much time together. He was too fearful for my safety, but I suppose she was as close to a best friend as a girl in my shoes was allowed to have while growing up. At any rate, we’ve continued to correspond with each other since my journey to Arizona.”
Prescott wasn’t certain where this strange conversation was leading nor what it could possibly have to do with him, but he tried to hide his impatience to be on his way. His respect for Shad Nicholson demanded it.
“Alas, the sweet thing has convinced herself I’m on some glorious adventure in the wild West, and she cannot wait to join me here.” Her voice rose on a note of pure distress.
For the life of him, Prescott couldn’t see what was so bad about that.
“As a mail-order bride!” she wailed, clasping the much-rumpled letter to her bosom.
Ah! He hid a chuckle behind a cough. He was beginning to see the problem.
“So what I need you to do, what I am absolutely begging you to consider, is riding into Headstone — today, if possible — to send an urgent telegram to the Boomtown Mail Order Brides Company.” She gave a dramatic pause and seemed to be struggling to catch her breath.
“And tell them what, exactly?” he prodded, feeling the first stirrings of alarm beneath his leather vest.
“You must save her from whatever dusty, dime-a-dozen cowboy they might try to pair her with and agree to be her groom, of course.”
His jaw dropped so far, he was surprised he didn’t feel the porch planks bump his chin.
“She has a history of getting herself into scrapes, and I am convinced she has no idea what she’s getting herself into this time.” Meg fanned her face with the letter. “Furthermore, I have no doubt she will realize her mistake within twenty-four hours after her arrival and purchase a ticket on the next train back to Boston.” There was a curious break to her voice. “All I’m asking is that you be the one to greet her at the train station this afternoon and pose as her prospective groom. There is no one else I trust with the task. No one else whom I can guarantee will behave like a true gentleman and send her back to Boston with her virtue intact.”
This afternoon? Prescott slowly straightened in his rocking chair and leaned back heavily against the whitewashed slats. Jumping Jehoshaphat! Of all the favors he’d speculated might be asked of him after he woke this morning, getting married — or pretending to — was not one of them. Not even close! He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, wondering what his work crew must be thinking of his prolonged absence.
“Please, Prescott.” Meg’s beseeching voice tugged him back to the present. “You’re my only hope of saving this friend from utter ruin.”
He let out a frustrated whoosh of air. “Why me?” He spread his callused hands. She had a ranch full of male worker bees. Why not fancy up one of them in a suit and tie and have them go pose as this capricious young woman’s groom?
“Because you’re the only one I trust with a matter so delicate.” She studied him shrewdly. “No doubt you’re wondering why I do not ask the nearest farm hand.”
“Well, yes.” His tone was dry.
“For one thing, a good number of them ca
n barely speak English. For another thing, they do not possess your social graces.”
A snort escaped him. “Surely you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” He stood, unable to contain his impatience any longer. He’d been raised by brothers whose efforts hadn’t always been square on the right side of the law, and he was physically scarred from years of bull riding on the rodeo circuit. He was not the debonair man Meg Nicholson seemed to think he was. The sooner he disabused her of the notion he might make a proper groom for her friend, the better for both him and her. And the better for her friend, as well.
“Maybe I have.” Her voice turned bitter. “Because I certainly never mistook you for a coward.”
He pivoted in his well-worn boots to face her, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“She’s an innocent young woman who deserves my protection,” she snapped. “And yours, I’d hoped, considering I am in no condition to…” She waved her hands at her blossoming belly. “Well, look at me! I’m utterly useless in this state.”
Prescott gnashed his teeth, feeling as if he was being wholly maneuvered by events outside his control. He could hardly believe it when he heard his own voice answer. “Fine. I’ll send that blasted telegram and greet your little friend at the train depot.” No one was going to call him a coward and get away with it.
