The Marriage Stampede (Wranglers & Lace #5)

by Julianna Morris

  Gloria’s eyes had widened to an impossible degree. Chip was the antithesis of a wealthy urban dweller—from his faded jeans and ancient cowboy boots, to the infamous rings beneath his hatband.

  “I do not think—”

  “You’re sure lucky he’s available,” Logan assured her smoothly. “Chip is one of the best wranglers at the Bar Nothing. Not as good as Merrie, of course, but you’ll be fine.”

  “I...yes,” Merrie said briskly, breaking free of Logan’s embrace. “Let’s go everyone, it’s time to get mounted up. We have cattle to move.”

  She didn’t risk looking at Logan for fear of giggling. The man was impossible...though with all things considered, Chip and Gloria probably belonged with each other. If nothing else, they’d keep the crowd entertained.

  Reluctantly the dudes and wranglers sorted themselves out, then rode away, many with wistful, backward glances. They didn’t want to miss anything, particularly any fireworks that might occur.

  Chip shooed Gloria toward her car, telling her to change into something that a horse wouldn’t take insult to...and that if she didn’t have anything, then he and the “boys” would rustle something up. With a last, fulminating glare that encompassed Chip, Merrie, and especially Logan, she flounced to the dust-covered sports car.

  “Can you handle that?” Merrie asked.

  “Don’t worry, Red,” Chip said, unperturbed. “I’ve tangled with more than one wildcat. Got the scars to prove it, too.” He grinned and ambled in Gloria’s direction.

  “I’ll put fifty on Chip,” Logan murmured into Merrie’s ear.

  She made a disgusted sound. “I can’t believe I let you do that to me. Engaged? What will my grandparents think?”

  “That you have excellent taste?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she stalked into the barn. “Going along with you was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should just march out and tell her the truth.”

  “Please, honey, you don’t want to ruin my vacation.”

  “Don’t you honey me. It would serve you right if I turned into another Gloria—trying to force you into getting married. Think how troublesome I could be. You’re trapped on the ranch. I could chase you all over the place.”

  Logan grinned. “Naw, you couldn’t be another Gloria. And besides, being married to you wouldn’t be half bad. There are worse things in life.”

  Merrie ground her teeth together. No doubt “worse things” included the plague, pestilence and having the Seattle Mariner’s top batter break his arm in the first game of the season. Logan didn’t fool her for an instant, he just wanted her to go along with their fake engagement to keep Gloria from bothering him.

  “I’d make a lousy wife. You forget I can’t cook,” she said with artificial sweetness.

  “Yeah, that really tears it You’d have to stay out of the kitchen and promise never to touch the vacuum cleaner. How did you make it explode, anyway?”

  “I didn’t do anything. That thing is an overpriced piece of junk.”

  “It is now.” Logan refrained from mentioning her sister had successfully operated that “piece of junk” for over four years without exploding it once. He didn’t think Merrie would appreciate the reminder.

  “I don’t want to discuss it,” she muttered. “Grandfather wants us to move the cows in the northeast corner—for real this time. In other words, no more cozy picnics.” She rubbed Sun Spot’s nose, whispering to him.

  “Merrie-girl... what’s this about you getting engaged?” Paul Harding thundered from the door of the barn. “My own granddaughter, and I have to hear it from one of the hands.”

  Merrie groaned. “Granddad...I know this is a shock, but I can explain.”

  “Nothing to explain, child. I couldn’t be happier.” Mr. Harding sounded honestly pleased, and he slapped Logan’s back as he strode past. “You’re making plans for yourself, outside of this ranch. That’s wonderful.”

  Her face paled, and Logan felt her anguish so clearly, it was as if he had been hurting himself. This wasn’t a game to Merrie, it was her life’s dream. “Sir, you don’t understand. Merrie still wants the ranch,” he said urgently.

  “Of course she does, son.”

  Merrie’s gaze met his in shared bewilderment.

  “Uh, sir?”

  Harding turned to his granddaughter with a brief, apologetic shrug. “I’ve been a stubborn old man, but we’ll discuss your ideas for the Bar Nothing as soon as we can. For now, though, you’d better get out on the trail. You’ve got work to do.”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I need to talk to grandmother before we leave. I don’t want her to think the wrong thing.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll explain. We’ve waited long enough for great grandkids...she’ll be real pleased.” He left then, with a last approving smile.

  Whistling under his breath, Logan watched Merrie, unsure of what to expect—she was unpredictable, to say the least. She might be furious at this turn of events, or wildly delighted. Naturally he was hoping for wildly delighted.

  “Honey?”

  “Would you stop calling me that?” She lifted a saddle over Sun Spot’s back and began fastening the cinch straps. Logan glanced to where Dust Devil stood, ready to go. The bridle Merrie had dropped still lay on the ground, so he walked outside to collect it.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, taking the bit and easing it into Sun Spot’s mouth.

  “Merrie...this is good for you, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a lie.”

  “Yeah, only you heard what Mr. Harding said...he’s going to listen to your plans. That’s what you’ve wanted all along.”

  “I know.” She sighed and rested her forehead against the palomino’s white-gold mane. “God, Logan. I’ve never lied to my family. I wanted to tell him the truth...but I couldn’t. This is the first time he’s shown any genuine interest in me taking over the ranch.”

  Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “And if you tell him the truth—that we’re not engaged—he might back off again...?”

  “You heard him. What do you think?”

  Her concern was justified—old ideas died hard. Basic, honest values thrived in this part of Montana... along with some old-fashioned ideas about women. It put Logan in a tough spot, because deep down he clung to some of those ideas. For example... a man should protect someone who wasn’t as strong. Like Merrie, who was half his size and strength.

  Logan told himself that Merrie had an essential strength, unmarked by physical boundaries, but he still didn’t want her doing something her body wasn’t built to handle. And he didn’t want her to do anything dangerous—like breaking a horse.

  Damn, he groaned to himself. He’d practically swallowed his tonsils when he learned that was one of her goals—to break the horses on the Bar Nothing. At the same time he admitted her soft voice could tame probably a pride of lions, let alone some horse she’d raised.

  “Listen, Merrie. I know you don’t want to hide anything from your grandparents, and I admire that. But give it a few days. Maybe it’ll open up his mind about you and the ranch.”

  “And maybe it won’t.”

  “Then you’re no worse off than before. Besides, honey, it could be fun.”

  “You already said that—when you were trying to talk me into an affair.” Merrie led Sun Spot out of the barn and secured the saddlebags she’d brought down earlier. She tossed him a length of rope, keeping a similar coil for her own use. “Fake engagement or not, I’m not going to bed with you, Logan Kincaid.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Her chin lifted, as he’d known it would if he made such a flagrant male retort. Merrie’s stubbornness came in handy, particularly when she needed a little spunk to fall back on.

  “Dream on, city slicker.” She swung into Sun Spot’s saddle in one, graceful motion. “You won’t be so interested after spending the day in a saddle. That tends to kill the romance.”

  “It doesn’t seem to stop ol’ Chip.”


  Merrie’s mouth dropped open and she blinked.

  “Huh,” she muttered.

  Logan climbed onto his own horse and gathered the reins. “Yeah...that’s what I thought you’d say.”

  Seven hours later, Logan swung the inevitable rope alongside Dust Devil’s neck, listening to the deep-throated bawls of the cattle as they plodded over the hill.

  Merrie had enthused about the joys of a well-trained cutting horse, but he hadn’t understood until he’d worked a group of cows for the first time. A horse was a horse, right?

  Not by a long shot.

  Dust Devil didn’t really need a rider—Logan would have sworn he could move a herd by himself. And whatever Dust Devil and Sun Spot couldn’t take care of, Bandit would handle. Bandit was a terrific cow dog, though he often looked a little goofy with his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

  Logan took a deep breath, his body relaxed as he moved with the big horse. After just a week he’d begun to automatically check for the Bar Nothing brand on the rumps of each cow. The same for checking fence lines for breaks.

  They carried a gadget to staple tags into the cattle’s ears and stopped when necessary to accomplish this task. It reassured him to see how cautious Merrie was...after all, she explained, it wasn’t smart to take chances around an eleven hundred pound animal with the intellectual capacity of a fence post.

  Merrie was right about being connected to the land...it was wonderful. And it brought a soul-deep satisfaction. Making rich people richer didn’t stack up well against it.

  “Say, how big is the Bar Nothing?” Logan asked when he’d rejoined Merrie. She’d gone after a couple of cattle in a draw, who now wandered along with the fifty head they’d already collected. They’d push them another half mile into new grazing, and then swing back to the ranch center.

  “About six thousand acres.”

  His hands drew back on the reins and Dust Devil obligingly stopped, though there wasn’t any reason for the halt. Six thousand acres? If Logan had been thinking clearly he would have realized the ranch had to be that big. But still...

  Merrie reined in Sun Spot and looked back over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Six thousand?”

  “Give or take an acre. We have the exact figures in the ranch records.”

  “Merrie, nobody could buy that much land on a teacher’s salary! It’s not possible,” Logan said furiously. No wonder her grandfather couldn’t get serious about her proposal.

  Her mouth twisted with irritation, and he felt a rush of regret—it wasn’t his concern, he shouldn’t have said anything to disturb the peace between them.

  “I’m not buying the ranch on a teacher’s salary,” Merrie informed him. “I’m just earning the down payment. Besides, it isn’t just my teaching income. I tutor on the side and work here in the summer. My living expenses are almost zero. And my money is invested—not in high stakes stocks or anything, but I’m getting a good return.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry...” Logan said, more gently. He wasn’t helping either of them by making her angry. “But a few thousand dollars isn’t going to—”

  “It’s more than that.” Succinctly she reeled off a figure that made him blink. Merrie had saved considerably more than a “few” thousand dollars, and his perception took another whirling spin.

  His normal logic—which tended to operate a beat behind where Merrie was concerned—clicked into gear. On the surface, it seemed unworkable for her to buy the ranch. But anyone determined enough to save that kind of money deserved to be taken seriously.

  “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s impressive. I still don’t get the problem—your grandfather could work out a deal where the land reverts to him if things don’t work out. He wouldn’t lose anything. He could still sell to an outsider.”

  “Yeah... whatever.” She pulled her cowboy hat farther over her eyes, concealing her expression from him.

  Logan’s chest tightened with anger. He wanted to understand Merrie, not let her hide from him. Deliberately he leaned over and flicked the hat from her head.

  “Logan!”

  “Talk to me. There’s a piece of this puzzle I don’t get. Does he want the money that bad? All in one chunk? Is that why he won’t sell you the ranch?”

  “Of course not.” Merrie hesitated, biting her lip so hard he could see a small bead of blood along the edge of her teeth. “It’s just...the Bar Nothing is important out here.”

  “How important?”

  Her gaze flicked to him, and then back to her hands. “Logan, ranching isn’t the most profitable business, no matter what people think. A lot of folks end up losing everything they’ve worked a lifetime building.”

  “Like Harvey?”

  “Yeah...like Harvey. Our dude vacations provide an income for a lot of families—a supplement to what they make on their own spreads. And we’re building all the time, getting more and more popular.”

  Logan waited while Merrie stared ahead. Yet he didn’t think she was seeing the cattle and the land and sky, but something quite different.

  “Folks around here can’t afford for the Bar Nothing to have even one bad year,” she said starkly. “For any reason. That’s what Granddad is afraid of...failing those neighbors who depend on him.”

  “So it’s more than chauvinism.”

  Sighing, she tugged her hat back on her head. “Yes and no. I think he’d trust one of my brothers with the ranch, but taking a chance on a woman...? No. With so much riding on it, that’s too big a risk for him.”

  “Merrie...I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and shivered, though the day was clear and hot. “Under the circumstances, he thinks an outside buyer would have a better chance of keeping things operating smoothly. Someone with big money behind them, to support the ranch through the lean times.”

  Taking his bandanna from his pocket, Logan wiped the sweat from his face and neck. The dude vacations might seem like fun and games, but they were a vital part of the local economy. And as much as he hated saying it, he had to be honest. “Honey, your grandfather’s got a point.”

  “Does he?” Merrie turned her head, looking thoughtful rather than angry. “I love this ranch...every rock and stick and animal. And I would do anything for the people who depend on us, because they’re part of me. Would it be safer in the hands of a stranger, even a stranger with lots of money?”

  She was right. In her own way, Merrie was just as right as her stubborn grandfather.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  “I don’t know.”

  Bandit sat on the ground in front of them, his head cocked with puzzlement as he watched the two humans. Finally he gave a small “woof,” encouraging them to get back to work.

  Merrie urged Sun Spot forward again and Logan followed, his forehead creased in thought. It was disturbing to realize how important Merrie’s dreams were becoming to him.

  Maybe even more important than his own.

  Chapter Seven

  “Surprise!”

  “Happy birthday!”

  Merrie blushed as confetti was thrown over both her and Logan. The barn they used for dances had been decorated with streamers and wildflowers, and everyone was dressed in their dude ranch best.

  “Happy birthday, darling,” declared her grandmother, giving her a kiss. “And the best to you, Logan. This is a double celebration because of your engagement.”

  “That’s very nice. Thank you, Mrs. Harding.”

  “Go on, there. I keep telling you to call me Eva—or Grandma would be fine. You’re part of the family now.”

  “That’s...kind of you.”

  Merrie nudged Logan, annoyed with his stiff formality. For a man who’d enthusiastically thrown himself into an “engagement,” he was acting awfully uncomfortable around his prospective in-laws—almost like a real fiancé. Maybe the deception was getting to him. She could only hope.

  As for her grandmother...that was a little sticky. The announcement of an
engagement must have been quite a surprise following their conversation the previous morning—she distinctly remembered saying she didn’t want Logan to fall in love with her, and that he just wanted sex, anyway. Yet Eva Harding hadn’t said a word about the abrupt change of face; she’d just smiled serenely and asked if Merrie was happy.

  “Happy birthday, darlin’,” said a voice, and Merrie spun around.

  “Grant! I missed you at the dance on Saturday.”

  “Sorry about the dance, but I had a sick horse. What’s this I heard about you getting married?”

  “Oh, yes.” Merrie darted a glance at Logan. “Grant Steele, meet Logan Kincaid.”

  “A pleasure.”

  “Likewise.” Since Logan’s face held an expression she’d come to recognize—similar to a bull snorting and pawing the grass—Merrie made a polite excuse to Grant and dragged her “fiancé” to the other side of the barn.

  She’d forgotten her birthday. At least...she’d tried to forget it. She should have realized her friends and family wouldn’t let the big three-o slip by that easily.

  Blast. It was harder turning thirty years old than pretending she was happily engaged. Actually the “engagement” had been rather enjoyable as long as she didn’t think about it as lying. The night before she’d even been able to discuss buying the Bar Nothing with her grandfather, though naturally he’d wanted Logan’s input on the proposal.

  “This wasn’t my idea. Honest,” Logan whispered into her ear after a series of well-wishers and cake cutting, and opening the funny little gifts people gave when they didn’t really know you, but wanted to be nice.

  “You love it,” she whispered back. “I mean, take a look at Gloria. You won’t have to worry about her bothering you in Seattle...she’s about to self-destruct.”

  “I told you Chip would handle things,” Logan said, chuckling.

  Gloria and Chip had argued, insulted and taunted their way through the past two days. Neither pulled any punches and they played dirty. But they were in Chip’s territory, and he had the home court advantage.

  Just then a hand tugged at Merrie’s jeans, demanding attention. “Happy birfday.”