by Grafford, Jo
“Please assure me we are not getting in line to place bets.” Daisy sounded revolted.
“Not at all, m’lady.” He grinned down at her as she tightened her grip on his upper arm and stepped closer. “I’m the reason they’re betting. Or I will be as soon as I get registered to ride.”
“Cocky,” Daisy muttered again beneath her breath.
He chuckled and steered her over to the registration line.
The young clerk took one look at him and shook his head. “Boy, does this change things!” He turned his head and bellowed down the line. “Gentlemen? We have a new bull rider throwing his hat in the ring. Prescott Barra-a-a-a-a-a!” Several whoops went up from the line of workers, while the expression of many of those standing in line sharpened to cold calculation. A few of the men who’d recently finished their transactions hustled to get back in line.
Prescott could tell all the hubbub surrounding his name was starting to have an effect on Daisy. She glanced up at him several times with a half-dazed look in her eyes. “They treat you like a returning war hero,” she exclaimed.
He snorted, hating the comparison. Bull riding wasn’t half as honorable as taking bullets for one’s country but, yes. He was the idol of many young cowboys-in-the-making in this town.
Gazing around them, he absorbed the hum and rhythm of the stadium. He loved every nuance of it — the excitement in the air, the laughter, the stands of people filled to nearly overflowing, the scents of hot sausages and biscuits being sold and passed around, the dust being kicked up in the ring below…
“Fresh squeezed lemonade!” a vendor squawked, heading in their direction.
He bent his head closer to Daisy’s. “Are you thirsty, darlin’?”
“And famished.” She gazed longingly at the mist forming on the outside of the glass the vendor was holding up. “But I don’t have any money with me. Most unfortunately, I was separated from my reticule during yesterday’s heist.”
“I do.” He retrieved two coins from his pocket and held them up to the vendor. “One for each of us,” he ordered.
The man grinned and hastened to hand over two of the refreshing beverages.
Prescott slipped his hand back in his pocket and peeled a bill from the wad he had stashed there. He used it to purchase a small pile of chicken biscuits.
“Now you’re my hero, too,” Daisy gushed, reaching for one of them.
He chuckled. “Not a bad foundation to pave a marriage on, if you ask me.”
She choked on her juice and lowered her glass. “You’re such a cad! Trying to buy my hand in marriage with a chicken biscuit.”
“No?” He made a face. “Guess I’ll have to try a different tactic.” He led her into the crowded stands and found a tiny patch of bench left for her to sit on. It was a good thing she didn’t take up much space, because there simply wasn’t much left in the entire arena.
Her fingers circled his wrist when he tried to leave. “You’re leaving so soon?” she squeaked, glancing nervously around her.
He nodded soberly. He was already running late. “I have to report to the ring, darlin’. But do not worry that pretty head of yours. I’ll return in a wink and a snap.” Bull riding was dangerous, but it was short. Most riders failed to stay on their mounts the required eight seconds.
He jogged to where Wildfire was tethered in order to remove his chaps from his saddle bag. Donning them, he jogged his way around the back of the stadium to the contestants’ entrance.
The cowboy manning the door nodded in approval and tossed him a rope with a bell on it. “Good luck!” he called.
Prescott nodded back, but he didn’t require luck. His legacy in the ring had been built on a tougher than average upbringing, brute strength, and a fearless streak that had often earned him the title of “loco.”
He waved at the crowd as he leaped atop his assigned bull in the chute. He didn’t have the time to pick out Daisy’s face in the crowd, so he made sure he waved in her general direction. “This is for you, darlin’,” he said softly. He leaned forward to cinch the rope around the bull and immediately raised his head to nod at the gatekeeper. No point in putting off what was coming next. He was always one to get it over with as soon as possible.
The cowboy nodded back and opened the door to his chute. The bull shot into the ring, snorting and bucking like a possessed creature. Prescott lifted his left arm high in the air for balance while keeping a death grip on his rope with his dominant hand.
This was the point where he blocked out the crowd entirely. Every one of his senses was honed in on the bull and the bull only. It was vitally important to anticipate each kick and jump and to react accordingly. If the bull leaned left, he leaned right. Each time the bull’s high quarters shot into the air, he leaned back as far as he could and locked his knees around the animal’s haunches to keep his seat.
He was deaf to the shouts of the crowd. The only sound he heard was the counting inside his head. “One thousand. Two thousand. Three thousand.” He held on for the first two leaps and braced himself for the third. The bull shuddered and yanked him this way and that like a rag doll. Then he reared back for another massive leap. “Four thousand. Five thousand.” He locked his knees and held on while the creature jerked his hind feet off the ground. “Six thousand. Seven thousand.”
The bull’s hooves crashed back to the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust. He yanked back and forth in another series of quick, frenzied bucks. “Eight thousand. Nine thousand.” This was the point where Prescott always started to plan his exit strategy. He waited until the bull kicked his hind legs back in the air. Then he rolled backwards from the animal’s flanks into the dirt. The creature’s deadly horns were already too close to the ground to quickly turn his head and gore Prescott. He completed his backwards somersault and sprinted from the ring, while the rodeo managers distracted the bull and shooed him towards the exit chute.
“Ten seconds!” the announcer bellowed through his megaphone. This time, the crowd’s roar echoed in Prescott’s ears. He turned from his perch on the fence and waved at the crowd one last time. Then he finished vaulting from the ring. Since he was the last rider to register, he was the last one to ride. The contest was over. He’d won.
Inwardly thanking the good Lord that he’d survived another ride, Prescott accepted the cash winnings he didn’t need. He was already a wealthy man. Sometimes he donated the pot to a worthy cause. This afternoon, the entire pot was going to Daisy Danvers. She was going to need it to start her new life here in the West, especially if she turned down his forthcoming marriage proposal.
He couldn’t wait to see her face when he gave her the money. He was hoping for another one of her beautiful smiles and maybe a kiss.
Instead, she treated him to a pale-faced look of disbelief as he jogged in her direction.
Something was wrong. He jogged faster.
Chapter 7: Duty, Honor, and Love
Daisy
Ten minutes earlier
Daisy was wildly nervous about being left alone at the rodeo in Rattlesnake Junction, but she was more than a little excited, too. This was the life she’d dreamed about the past several months. This was the adventure she’d been craving. Crossing paths with a real live cowboy, and bull rider to boot, only added to the magic. So did his kisses.
She was so engrossed in her chicken biscuit and the rainbow colors of her memories that she didn’t immediately tune in to the conversation happening beside her. When she did, she realized they were discussing her future husband.
“That Prescott Barra!” the young woman beside her sighed. She produced a lacy white fan and waved it at her face. “I shared a dance with him after the last rodeo.”
Is that so? Daisy’s attention zoomed in on the woman, though she didn’t dare look in her direction. She held her breath as she listened.
“What was he like?” her companion hissed.
“As strong as he looks and even more handsome up close.” The woman gave a breathless sounding
giggle behind her fan. “I was tongue-tied the entire dance, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time and purchased me dinner afterwards.”
Ugh! It was no fun at all for Daisy to hear about Prescott’s exploits with another woman.
“At the Golden Hind, too. He spared no expense.”
Her companion made a snorting sound. “When you’re as rich as he is…”
Rich? Prescott Barra was rich? Daisy nearly dropped the remaining half of her biscuit. He certainly didn’t look rich. Why, his clothes were sun-bleached and his boots as broken in as a comfortable old friend. Even his horse wasn’t the least bit flashy. Wildfire was a regular old mare, not a stallion.
“Like royalty, he and his brothers,” the young woman continued. “Ever since they took over the running of that diamond mine at Hope’s Landing—”
Diamond mine! Daisy’s ears could hear no more. If Prescott was the owner of a diamond mine, then that could only mean one thing. He was the prospective groom Meg had in mind for her all along. La, but the woman had certainly played her cards close to her chest on the topic! The way she’d maneuvered Prescott was even more devious than the way she’d maneuvered Daisy. She’d made him think he wasn’t marrying at all, while steadily tightening the marital noose around his neck.
Doing her royal highness a favor, my hide! Meg had all but tricked Prescott into meeting her. What happened next was fate, but Meg had to have calculated the possibilities. She knew Prescott well and Daisy even better. She had to have known they would knock a few sparks off each other.
I’ve been had. Daisy wanted to place her hands around Meg’s throat and ring her neck for such sly interference in their lives. What Prescott must have thought of her when she asked if he was one of the train robbers! She moaned aloud just recalling their conversation. She moaned again to realize he must have figured out he was Meg’s choice of a husband for her, yet he’d kept that bit of information to himself. Instead, he’d courted her in his own way — teasing her, kissing her, and introducing the idea of turning their sham engagement into a real one.
What she wouldn’t give right now to know how much of what they had shared was real, as opposed to how much of it was Prescott playing the honorable man after he figured out what was going on! What if he’d merely introduced the topic of marriage out of pity for her, knowing she would soon discover what he already knew?
Her appetite disappeared, and she felt like weeping. Even the appearance of Prescott’s exultant features after he won the bull riding contest didn’t buoy her spirits.
He jogged in her direction with his cash winnings bagged in his hands. “What is wrong, darlin’?”
She burst into tears at the genuine anxiety in his expression.
“Blast it all!” he muttered and reached for her hand. He yanked her to her feet and tugged her from the crowded stadium. Their ears were pelted with cheers and congratulatory greetings every step of the way, but Daisy was too numb to enjoy a single moment of it. She wanted a big hole to open in the ground and swallow her up.
Instead of lifting her onto his horse, Prescott kept her hand in his and walked beside her after depositing his winnings in the pack strapped to Wildfire’s left flank.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked in utter misery.
“To the nearest hotel. You’re exhausted, and we both could use a bath.” He gave a self-deprecatory chuckle. “Me more than you after riding that bull.”
They reached the entrance of the hotel, and Daisy stopped short. It was the Golden Hind that the woman at the rodeo had spoken of, and she wasn’t jesting about the opulence of it. It boasted real glass windows, lots of gilded trim, and urns bursting with desert roses.
She laid a hand on his arm. “I can’t afford a room here, Press. You know that.”
“I can,” he returned evenly. “I just won a bull riding contest, remember? You can pay me back later.”
“Forget your rodeo winnings,” she shot back in exasperation. “I overheard some women talking at the stadium. Apparently, you’re a very wealthy man.”
“So…?” he said carefully. “I don’t recall trying to convince you otherwise.”
“You sort of did.” She waved her hands at his clothing, frowning in puzzlement. “What with the faded shirt and trousers and all…” Not to mention his heavily scuffed boots.
“I don’t care about those sorts of things.” He glared down at her.
She gave a sad laugh. “And here I thought you couldn’t afford gloves.”
“It’s not like I was born wealthy.” He looked aghast. “No doubt it takes time to become a stuffy, overindulged man of leisure. I’m working on it, princess.”
“Why?” She squinted at him, trying to make sense of his words and failed.
“Because you seem to disapprove of me, all of a sudden,” he explained coldly. “Are you quite certain all it took was a bit of gossip to turn you so fully against me? When I left you in the stands, you seemed happy. When I returned…” He raised and lowered his hands, shaking his head from side to side like a mangy dog. “I’ll never understand women, not even after I get married.”
Married. Her heart sank to a new low. “I know about that now, too. You don’t have to go through with it, Press. This is not about your honor or being a man of your word. We were set up by Meg Nicholson.”
“How so?” he demanded, looking incensed.
“You’re the owner of the diamond mine she was speaking of. You’re the man she picked out for me to marry. Surely, you had to have realized that when I brought up the unfortunate topic.”
His lips twisted. “I figured that. At least I hoped I was the man in question, but I have a younger brother who’s also unmarried, you know.”
No. She didn’t know that, either. “Don’t, please.” She held up her hand. “Don’t make light of this, I’m begging you.”
“I’m not trying to.” He looked so dusty, tired, and forlorn that her heart went out to him.
“I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand on his filthy forearm.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“Well, I’m not!” he declared emphatically, covering her hand with his. “I’m glad I met you, Daisy Danvers, and I’m not near ready to part ways with you. Certainly not tonight.” He gestured towards the hotel entrance. “If you will please humor me with your presence over dinner, I would be most grateful.”
She’d accused him of being cocky earlier; there was nothing in his demeanor that was cocky now. He was a portrait of humbleness as he entreated her to join him for dinner.
“Very well,” she relented. “You can be rather persistent.”
“When I’m sufficiently motivated.” The spark returned to his dark eyes. “Like I am when I’m with you.”
He must have misunderstood her agreement to join him for dinner, because he proceeded to march them to the front counter and order two rooms for the night.
“Press,” she protested in undertones, tugging on his arm. “I agreed to dinner, not…all the rest of this.”
“I insist.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“I’m not a charity case,” she snapped.
“No, you’re not.” He observed her gravely. “But, technically, you are my affianced.”
“Then I release you.”
“An offer I respectfully decline.” He all but dragged her down the dimly lit hall of the hotel to their rooms. He paused at her door to unlock it for her. “Your bath will be drawn shortly, m’lady.”
“But I don’t have anything to change into.” She was starting to feel like she was riding a stagecoach that was rolling faster and faster — so fast it was nearly out of control.
“The staff will bring you a day gown to wear until your things can be laundered and returned.”
Yes, indeed. Her life was officially spinning out of her control.
Prescott gave her a gentle nudge to get her moving inside the room and shut the door firmly behind
her.
She stared around her in horrified fascination. She had not seen and experienced this level of opulence since she’d exited her father’s mansion in Boston. After her lengthy train ride followed by a night on the mountain, so many creature comforts felt overwhelming.
An enormous room stretched before her. It brimmed with hothouse roses on nearly every surface — from the mantel to the dresser to the wash basin. Dozens of candles flickered, casting a soft, romantic glow over the furnishings. A four-poster bed drenched in white and pale blue lace anchored a wide Persian rug in the center of the room.
A screen to one side partially shielded a claw-foot tub from view. And miracle of miracles, she could hear the sound of running water.
Steam billowed from behind the curtain. It was warm water, unless her mind was conjuring up things that weren’t there. She wordlessly glided in the direction of the tub, unbuttoning her dress as she walked. It slid to the floor, but she kept walking. Her shift was next, followed by her bloomers. She rounded the screened-off area and stepped into the tub in nothing but her diamond necklace.
It was like stepping into heaven. The warm water closed around her calves, beckoning her to indulge. She sank to her knees in the frothing waves, wondering how in the heavens anyone had known exactly what temperature to heat the water. She reached for the spout from whence the water gushed and was amazed to feel its near-scalding temperature. It was coming out heated!
The tub was nearly full. “Oh, my!” She turned off the pair of faucets before it could overflow. Then she sank fully into the water and tipped her head back against the side. Oh, how she’d missed these luxuries!
In the past, a bath had felt routine. Now, it felt decadent. I was so spoiled, so indulged. I had no concept how good things were when Father was…well, a father. The man she knew so well was gone. In his place was a gambler and a drunkard. A man who’d lost their family fortune and was about to lose their home, as well. He was a man she barely recognized anymore.
