by Starla Kaye
The sound of wheels rolling along the gravel road leading from town carried over the grassy area and lured her back to the present. When she spotted the wild hat with enormous flowers on the wide brim, she hurried toward the road. She waved her arms and smiled to get her friend’s attention. “Camelia! Camelia, stop!”
Her closest friend in the whole world jerked on the reins so hard she nearly caused the carriage to tip over. She didn’t seem at all concerned about the near disaster—used to going from one disaster to another—and jumped to the ground, barely missing falling flat on her face. Righting herself, the petite woman ran with outspread arms toward her. “Oh, Whiskey, I’ve missed you something awful!”
Within seconds both of them were crying in happiness as they embraced. Camelia hugged her so tight she had trouble breathing, but she didn’t care. “I’ve missed you too,” she managed to squeak out.
Camelia stepped back and looked hurt. “Why didn’t you come see me yesterday? I had to hear from my father that you’d come back to town.”
Whiskey worried her lower lip for a second, blushed and said, “Everything was a little out of my control.”
Camelia snorted. “A little? I heard you flew to town in a balloon.” She sounded both stunned and amused. “At first when my father told me, I didn’t believe him. Then I thought about it and knew that if anyone would ever do such a wild thing, it would be you.”
“Well…”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you? Thank heavens,” Camelia prepared to hug her again.
Whiskey resisted being crushed once more. “My brothers had hoped differently. They’d hoped that my spending time with Aunt Mae would, I don’t know, somehow make me less daring. More proper, like Brandy…or like you.”
Camelia blinked. “Like me? Why in the world would they want you to be like me? I’m mousy, too shy most of the time, everyone says so. I can barely get a man to even notice me, especially not…” She clamped her mouth shut and looked down at her feet.
Feeling annoyed with her oldest brother all over again, Whiskey moved to take Camelia in her arms for a commissary hug. “Believe me, Camelia Sanderson, you can do far better than the likes of Taos Wakefield.”
“But he’s so…well, so handsome. So smart, too.” Camelia gave one quiet sniffle and then pulled away. “Never mind about my sorry life. It is what it is.”
She looked steadily at Whiskey and smiled. “Gossip has it that you’ll be getting married soon. To your brother’s partner, Marshal Morgan Rydell.” She smiled wistfully. “I’ve seen him around town. There isn’t a woman in the area who doesn’t feel a flutter in her breast at just the sight of him. Of course they’re all scared right down to their wobbly knees of him, too.”
Now she worried her lower lip. “The man doesn’t smile and his eyes… His eyes—if you look closely, like I did once—tell you so much about him. He’s sad and hurting all the way to his soul. He’s cautious of everyone except maybe your brothers. And he’s deadly. No sane person would dare to take him on.”
Sad, hurting?The big, bad marshal? Camelia often saw things in people that no one else did. All Whiskey had seen was a man bent on destroying her life, stealing her ranch, planning to take her for wife in spite of her wishes. Well, she’d also seen a man who just might be too much man for her to deal with. A thought which sent hot little tingles through her once more
She forced the disturbing feelings aside. “Are you saying I’m not sane?”
“What?”
She guided Camelia back to the carriage, although she wasn’t looking forward to the ride. She’d walked to the river bank having known riding horseback would provide her nothing but misery. “Let’s go get some tea and out of the hot sun.”
They climbed up into the high carriage and she eased gingerly onto the seat. As soon as Camelia was settled she urged the horse into movement and she looked curiously at her. “Explain yourself.”
Her poor bottom was still very tender and she winced as the carriage rolled over a bump. She hoped Camelia didn’t notice.
Of course Camelia did, she noticed everything. “I heard your brothers were sort of upset with you yesterday. They didn’t…” She looked worried and embarrassed at the same time.
Frustrated with the uncomfortable ride and the situation all over again, Whiskey said, “Yes, they did. Both of them.” She huffed. “So did that annoying Marshal Rydell.”
Camelia pulled up on the reins which drew another wince from her. “He didn’t?”
“He most certainly did. The rotten scoundrel spanked me right there on top of Kelly’s Opera House. People on the street below probably heard it, but, thank the Lord, didn’t see it.”
She reached to rub her tender bottom. “I will never forgive him. And I will never marry him. Never, never, never. Which is exactly what I told him.”
* * *
Morgan’s mood had grown sourer as the day wore on. From the second he and Taos had walked into the Dusty Trails Saloon for some whiskey and a talk with Keno, he’d been harassed. Bat Masterson and his good buddy Wyatt Earp had ambled in and snickered all the while congratulating him on his upcoming marriage to the town’s most notorious troublemaker: Angelina Wakefield, better known as “Whiskey.” They’d tormented him with replaying the events of her arrival in town yesterday. And then a dozen other men in the saloon had started in on talking about the amazing event, about that crazy balloon. He’d come close to pulling out his Colt and shooting them all.
Now, working in the late afternoon hot sun to get the balloon loaded in the ranch wagon with lots of curious eyes watching, lots of chuckling going on around them, he again considered pulling out his gun. He didn’t like being laughed at. He sure as hell didn’t find this particular chore amusing. He grumbled under his breath and tugged hard on his side of the rope.
As he tied a knot, he looked around the jumbled mess and found Taos scowling and mumbling, too. At least he wasn’t alone in his frustrations.
When Taos stepped away from the wagon, he met Morgan’s eyes. “Are you up to stopping by to see the reverend before we head back to the ranch?”
His stomach roiled. The day just kept getting worse and worse. Resigned, he nodded. “Best to get all the unpleasant chores done at once, I guess.” He wasn’t sure which was worse: loading up the balloon or making plans to get hitched. No, he knew for sure it was anything to do with getting married.
Keno walked around the end of the wagon parked outside his saloon. “After all the ribbing you took today, I figured you would be demanding to sell the ranch back to us and then fleeing the area.”
“The thought crossed my mind.” He wiped the sweat from his brow and shot a stay-the-hell-away look at a pair of young cowboys sauntering closer to look at the balloon. As they hurried on down the boardwalk, he said, “Yep, it definitely crossed my mind. But I want the ranch, all of it, even if I have to take that crazy sister of yours for a wife.”
“Be careful what you say about her,” Keno warned.
Morgan studied the slick-looking gambler-turned-saloon owner for a second. “You don’t think she’s a mite touched in the head? She flew into town in a damn balloon. She brought a passel of critters with her, named after each of us.”
Keno shrugged but looked less antagonistic. “Still…”
“You can calm down, brother. Morgan won’t admit it, but I do believe he’s falling for our baby sister.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan protested. “She drives me nuts. I make her nuts.”
Taos walked closer, grinning, ignoring what he had said. “Let me tell you, there were sparks flying all over the place between them yesterday. And I’m not talking about those from his hand landing on her bottom.”
“Don’t remind me about having spanked her when I’m standing all too near this balloon. I’m feeling like burning her butt all over again.” He had been considering it ever since they’d started manhandling the blasted balloon. He couldn’t get over the way his
gut churned every time he thought about what could have happened to her.
“I can sure understand that. Toying with that notion myself,” Taos admitted. “But you two… well, I don’t know, I just sense there’s something powerful drawing you two together.” He studied Morgan closer, cocked his head. “I saw how she looked at you, even when she was arguing with you. She never looked with such strong feelings at Ace Tanner. Not that I can remember, anyway.”
“We’ll find a way to get along.” He refused to say anything more about whatever feelings he had for Whiskey. Fact was he didn’t know how he felt about her other than being constantly annoyed. “Now if you’re finished picking at me, we need to go and make those wedding arrangements. I want this whole situation settled before I head back to Texas the end of July.” They all knew he’d gotten a wire telling him to report back to duty.
“I still think you need to—”
“Timing isn’t right.” Morgan held Taos’ gaze. “While you were looking at that empty building with Keno, I was sitting in a back corner of your saloon drinking and avoiding people. I overheard a pair of cowboys passing through town talking about Marino.”
He sucked in a frustrated breath. “They’d run into him in Denver. He’d been mean and drunk and telling everyone that he was going after Hanging Judge Rydell. ‘Gonna end his evil ways.’ they quoted.”
He thinned his lips before adding, “After that, Marino claimed he’s heading this way, coming after me.”
The man’s threat didn’t really worry him personally. The idea of what danger it might put Whiskey in as his wife did worry him. Still, she’d be surrounded on the ranch by loyal ranch hands and her brothers were here as well. But he’d like to draw Marino away from the ranch for their showdown, which was another reason he couldn’t quit the marshals just yet.
Taos looked every bit as mad as he felt. “Your father can take care of himself. He’s one mean sonofagun.”
There wasn’t a doubt about that in Morgan’s mind. He nodded. “True enough. But Marino’s got a powerful lot of hate for my old man. The judge hung Rafe’s no-good brother.” He knew the younger Marino had more than deserved hanging. He also knew his father could watch out for himself and had been doing so for a lot of years. He was a hard man, a cold man, a man few dared to take on, including him.
“It’s not the judge or even yourself you’re worried about down in Texas, is it? It’s Tyler.” Taos had stiffened with the knowledge.
Morgan ground his teeth. Yes, Tyler was his other weakness. He didn’t want his son caught in the middle of some kind of showdown down in Texas. He didn’t want Marino anywhere near his son.
He clenched his hands, tried to breathe easier. “I wired Chase a while ago to bring Tyler up to Kansas. He’ll be safer here at the ranch.” At least he sure as hell hoped that would be the case.
“Your brother’s a good man. He’ll get Tyler here all right. But you could turn in—” Taos said determinedly.
He shook his head. “I can’t turn in my badge and settle down anywhere until things are finished between Marino and me. I’m taking him in, dead or alive. Dead would suit me just fine.”
Taos nodded in acceptance. Keno, too, who had been quietly listening, nodded in grim agreement.
With one last look at the balloon, Morgan started walking toward the end of the street and the town’s church. “Time to take care of this wedding matter.”
Chapter 4
“Taos, you stop it right now!”
At the furious sound of Whiskey yelling at her brother, Morgan stepped out of the barn where he’d been working on some tack. Only it wasn’t her brother that had the spirited woman riled. The nutty mule with one eye was in the midst of trying to open the corral gate. Again. He’d heard from her brothers how the ornery critter had already escaped twice at night. The brothers were tired of going after him and bringing him back to their frantic sister. He hadn’t helped with the chore because he’d spent the last two days out on the far range mending fences. Basically, he’d been avoiding her. He’d needed some thinking time. He had more worries circling in his head now than ever before and she was a big part of them.
“If he’s so hot up to leave, you ought to let him go.” He tipped his hat brim low against the mid-day sun. The day was another sweltering one.
She turned to glare at him, put her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t really want to run away. He’s just bored.”
“Bored?” She was even nuttier than the mule.
“He’s used to me riding him every day or so, but I’ve been too busy. He’s feeling cranky about being ignored.” She reached to pat the side of the mule, who had finally given up on nosing the latch undone.
The mule swiveled its head around, bared big teeth and moved his mouth close to her arm.
She moved out of his reach not seeming at all concerned.
Morgan was, though. He immediately started forward, fury lengthening his strides. “Damn animal tried to bite you! He’s dangerous. Get the hell out of there.”
She merely shook her head, the sun glistening off her red-brown hair even more with the movement. “Taos would never hurt me.” To prove her point, she edged closer and gently stroked the mule’s long nose. Now the beast seemed happy at her touch.
His steps slowed and he watched the tender way she dealt with the mule. He could almost swear the animal was smiling in pleasure. He wondered what the touch of her small, soft hand would feel like against his face or on his…
He froze. Shit. This was exactly why he’d kept his distance from her. She played with his good sense. She made him think about things that he shouldn’t be thinking about, at least not until they were married.
Annoyed, he shifted his focus to the britches she had on that he didn’t like and had gone back to wearing. That didn’t help him much. Now his thoughts turned to wanting to pull them down to warm that sweet bottom of hers for no particular reason. After that he’d…
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
He fought to get his wayward thoughts under control. “I reckon your brothers told you we made arrangements with Reverend Chester.” He hoped to hell that she couldn’t see how his body had reacted.
“You shouldn’t have bothered.” The look she shot his way was nearly hot enough to fry him, and, oddly, it made him even harder.
“The wedding is three weeks from today.”
He walked right to the other side of the gate. Her eyes were so green, grass green. And there was a spattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose that he hadn’t noticed before. “You need to get to town and see about your dress.”
She ignored him and turned away to bend over to pick up the curry brush she’d dropped when she’d discovered the mule trying to escape. The tempting sight of her taut backside fully facing him now had him sweating. He decided right then that he needed to torture her as much as she was torturing him. “I’ll take you on a buggy ride later. We can eat down by the river. Talk some.” Okay, maybe that would end up torturing him more than her.
The announcement had her jerking up and gaping at him. “Maybe I don’t want to go on a buggy ride with you.” Her cheeks were pretty and pink. Her eyes mirrored confusion.
He blew out a breath. “You’ve got to be the most contrary woman. Here I’m trying to court you a bit before we get married—”
“I don’t want you to court me,” she snapped, cutting him off. “I do not want to marry you. Do. Not.” She stretched up to her full height, still far shorter than him. “I just want you to sell me the ranch and leave.”
He watched her skunk come waddling across the corral, stopping to rub his furry body against her legs. She bent down to scoop him up in her arms and hug the offensive critter. The skunk snuggled close and all but purred in happiness. It riled him that every damn animal on the ranch—including his own persnickety horse—seemed to desire, and get, attention from her. Yet she had absolutely no use for him. Damn hard on a man’s ego.
“I’m not selling out to you. B
ut if you want to have decent say in the running of this ranch, you’re going to have to marry me.”
She puffed up and her ample breasts drew and captured his focus. “This is all so unfair! I’m the only member of the family who really loves this ranch. It’s my home.”
He saw the anger in her eyes, the pain. “I’m not kicking you off the place. I’m offering to share it with you.”
“You’re willing to share with me on your terms, as your wife. Why can’t we just be partners in the ownership? Share the decisions.”
He looked at her and didn’t see just a business partner. He saw a beautiful, spirited young woman. This was the woman who crept into his dreams at night on a regular basis. She was a woman he would never be able to work with on a daily basis and keep his hands off of.
“My terms are the only ones we can both live with. Trust me,” he said solemnly.
“They’re the terms you can live with,” she protested. “My terms are sharing the running of the ranch, although most of it could be your part. I am more interested in taking care of the livestock.”
He stiffened. Every time she talked about that he envisioned some crazed horse stomping on her, some pea-brained cow trampling over her. He was certain that when he married her, he could keep her busy with taking care of the house, taking care of him and Tyler. She wouldn’t have time for the nonsense of tending to injured or sick critters. At least that was what he sure as hell hoped.
“Marriage, Whiskey. I’ll only settle on marriage.” He could be as stubborn as her, but he’d begun to think he’d met his match.
“Why do you insist on this ridiculous marriage thing?” She looked steadily at him, her eyes glistened with moisture.
Tears? Hell no! He couldn’t deal with a woman crying, except when she should be, after a well-deserved bottom burning. Otherwise… well, hell.
He looked beyond her to the house and said, “Because it’s for the best. I owe Taos. He asked me to do it and I promised I would.”
