The Rancher's Inconvenient Bride
Page 1
A Wyoming marriage of convenience...
Agatha Magee has put her difficult past behind her and is living an independent life at the circus. But when William English rescues her—from being shot out of a cannon—their scandalous situation leaves them no option but to get married!
William has no intention of making this more than a marriage in name only. Agatha must somehow change his mind if she’s to have the family she’s always yearned for...
She bent her head and kissed him, and he didn’t have the good sense to end it.
She had been to the bakeshop! The lingering flavor of vanilla invaded his senses. With a twist and a swoop, he shifted her body down. Now he was the one on top, the one directing the kiss.
In a second the aroma of baked goods was gone, leaving in its place the heady scent of a woman.
He shoved back her bonnet, loosened a pin from her hair. Soft locks tumbled over his hands, tangled in his fingers.
Why was it he felt triumphant and guilty at the same time? The woman was his wife, dash it! He deserved more than kisses. Judging by the way her shapely bottom shifted against him, she wanted more.
Author Note
Thank you for picking up The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride. In the hustle and bustle of everyday life I’m happy that you have chosen to slow down and spend a few hours with Agatha Magee.
If you have read The Cowboy’s Cinderella, you will know that Agatha is nothing like her twin sister, Ivy. They are like sunshine and shadow, with Ivy being confident and outgoing and Agatha being timid and fearful.
But that’s not all there is to our bruised Agatha. As she struggles to find her way from helplessness to independence, she discovers the courageous woman inside her. She goes after the life that she wants for herself even when she still wants to hide away.
I believe we can all feel some kinship for Agatha. Every day we face challenges that we would like to run from but cannot—the car breaks down, the bills are past due, the computer crashes or your sweet toddler raises the roof while you wait in a checkout line.
Some days we need to call upon our inner lioness, go out and claim life’s joy. And some days we need to find a quiet place and let it all pass.
I hope you find a bit of escape and a bit of cheer in Agatha’s journey.
The Rancher’s
Inconvenient Bride
Carol Arens delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she is not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, beach camping or lounging about a mountain cabin. At home, she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments, you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at carolarens@yahoo.com or on Facebook.
Books by Carol Arens
Harlequin Historical
Renegade Most Wanted
Rebel with a Cause
Christmas Cowboy Kisses
“A Christmas Miracle”
Rebel with a Heart
Dreaming of a Western Christmas
“Snowbound with the Cowboy”
Western Christmas Proposals
“The Sheriff’s Christmas Proposal”
The Cowboy’s Cinderella
Western Christmas Brides
“A Kiss from the Cowboy”
The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride
The Walker Twins
Wed to the Montana Cowboy
Wed to the Texas Outlaw
Cahill Cowboys
Scandal at the Cahill Saloon
Linked by Character
Rebel Outlaw
Outlaw Hunter
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Written in loving memory of my mother, Catherine Alene Ebert. Love cannot be separated.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from A Secret Consequence for the Viscount by Sophia James
Chapter One
Tanners Ridge, Wyoming, July 1883
“The Devil Wind is blowing and it’s going to make all those circus folks go mad.”
William English pressed his hat to his head. The wind was blowing devilishly, but he doubted it was going to push anyone over the brink of sanity. Unless, maybe it was the elderly woman leaning on her cane and frowning intently up at him.
“I’m sure they’re no more likely to go mad than anyone else, Mrs. Peabody.”
“If you’d seen the things I have, Mayor English, you would be running for the hills.” She pounded her cane on the boardwalk in front of Tanners Ridge Community Bank. Twice. No doubt the extra thump was to make sure he was paying attention.
A third thump might have been in order, given that he really was paying more attention to keeping his dearly priced bowler hat on his head than to her unrealistic fears.
“I’m sure you’ve seen some interesting things—”
“The skeleton of a three-headed dog,” the woman declared, cutting off his attempt to ease her fear. “And a man swallowing a sword—a flaming sword—and a fellow putting his head in the mouth of a lion! And that happened without the wind blowing. Who knows what might happen tonight.”
“Everyone will have a fine time. Just you wait and see.”
“What I’m waiting for, is for you to hire Tanners Ridge a sheriff.”
William smiled, his lips pressed tight. As mayor—and hopefully future governor—of Wyoming, it would not do to let his emotions show.
The fact that Tanners Ridge had no sheriff was no one’s fault but the good folks living here. He had presented no less than four candidates and they had all been voted down or refused the job because of low pay.
“Will you be at the meeting this afternoon? I’ve another candidate to introduce for the job.”
“Of course—unless I’m murdered by a fat woman with a beard who has gone raving.”
“Would you feel better if I went down to take a look at things?”
“Why, that would be a good idea.” Mrs. Peabody’s smile brought out the charming wrinkles in her cheeks. Her look of relief made the trip down the hill to where the circus was camped seem worth the effort.
He tipped his hat to her, nodded. “I’ll see you this afternoon at the meeting, then.”
“Be careful,” she warbled after him.
Chances were, the only danger in going down had to do with walking the steep, rocky path, not circus folks gone wind-mad.
A quarter of a mile down the path the ground leveled out, giving the traveling circus plenty of room to set up their big tent.
Even buffeted by wind, the huge structure barely moved. Still, it couldn’t hurt to have a look
around and make sure folks would be safe inside tonight.
A fair distance from the tent there was a circle of colorfully painted wagons. He supposed this was where the performers and other employees lived.
The scent of baking pastries and simmering stew came from one of them. Had to be the chuck wagon, or the circus version of it.
On the way to the big tent, he passed by a circle of large, wheeled cages. A dozing leopard lifted one eye when William passed. In another of them, dogs of all shapes and sizes barked at him. Other dogs roamed freely about, so he imagined the ones who were confined were not pets but performers.
Within the circle of cages, a pair of elephants were tethered to a pole.
This was something he’d never seen! True-to-life elephants. All he could do was stare in amazement while dust swirled around their big feet and their swaying trunks.
Because he wasn’t paying attention, his bowler blew off. It rolled over the ground toward the big tent.
On a run, he snatched it up. He secured it to his head with a thump, straightened his bow tie, then brushed off his lapels before stepping inside the canvas tent.
It was an impressive space. For all its size, it didn’t sway overmuch in the wind. Perhaps if the roustabouts who raised the tent had used a few more ropes it wouldn’t sway at all. If William had been in charge of things, he would have—
Done nothing different. Even though his mother lived twenty-five miles away and he hadn’t seen her in months, her narrowed eyes and firmed lips appeared in his mind. Her voice whispered as clearly as if she had been standing beside him.
“William Byron English, you do not need to be in charge of everything.”
Maybe not, but still he wondered if heavier wood should have been used on the risers where folks would sit.
Letting go of control was a lesson he’d been trying to learn since the time he was a boy and had decided that the fire in the hearth would be better with six logs rather than the two the butler had put in.
It had taken a week before his mother would smile at him and a week after that before the stench of smoke cleared out of the house.
Gazing at the two brightly painted rings used for performing, William couldn’t think of a way to improve them. That was a relief, and good enough to send his mother’s voice home to Cheyenne where it belonged.
He’d heard that P.T. Barnum had three performing rings, but Tanners Ridge was not a big enough town to attract that man’s attention.
Hell, it wasn’t even big enough to attract a reliable sheriff.
“Halloo!” came a voice from the far side of the tent.
He turned toward the voice to see a short man, his belly round as a ball, step from behind a curtain. The fellow waved his arm, indicating that William should cross to where he was.
The crossing took some time because the tent was large.
While this circus production was not as grand as some, it was the most exciting thing to come to Tanners Ridge in a long time, so he’d been told. Having only been mayor here for six months, there was much he was still learning about his new home.
“Halloo to you, sir.” The man extended his pudgy hand. “I’m Frenchie Brown, owner of this fine production.”
“William English.” He shook Frenchie Brown’s hand, surprised to find so much strength in that soft-looking fist.
“Ah, the mayor!” The man nodded vigorously. He had no hair and the smooth skin of his head glistened in a ray of sunshine that cut through a gap in the tent. “I ought to have known who you were by the fine cut of your clothes. Welcome, Mr. Mayor.”
Back home in Cheyenne no one ever remarked on his wardrobe. Gentleman ranchers of the area dressed the same way.
“I just came down to see how you folks were faring in the wind. It’s blowing like the devil outside.”
“We’ve held up fine in worse than this.” His grin was wide, exposing a gold front tooth. The stench of strong cologne trying to mask the scent of cigars and clothes that hadn’t been washed in some time made William back up a step. “Come, I’ve something special to show you. Tonight, folks will have to pay to see her but being that you are the mayor—well I’ll give you a peek at her for free.”
A free peek at a woman was not something that William figured he really wanted. But in case the lady was in need of help, he followed Frenchie around the curtain.
“Meet Gloria.” Frenchie stroked the curve of a huge gray hip. William backed up several paces. “The only taxidermized pachyderm known to the civilized world.”
The creature’s trunk was lifted high as though she were trumpeting, her tail was also lifted, forever proud.
“During her lifetime this good old girl earned me plenty of money.” With what appeared to be a loving embrace, Frenchie stroked her ivory tusk. “Couldn’t see any reason that should change.”
“No...” William glanced about, wondering if the skeleton of a three-headed dog would come bounding by chased by a sword-swallower, his foil aflame. “I imagine not.”
* * *
Agatha noticed the spider in its web a second before it saw her.
The startled bug scrambled across the delicate threads it had spun between the spindles of the porch of the trailer that she shared with Laura Lee. The small arachnid disappeared nearly as fast as she spotted it.
How she envied that quick little creature. Spiders were not required to face the world beyond the shadows.
Agatha closed her eyes, took a deep breath, feeling the wind buffet her hair, tug at her hat.
As much as it frightened her, she did have to face the world. She had spent most of her life shut away. Not by choice—far from it. She hadn’t even known that she had a choice.
“Good day to you, Miss Agatha,” greeted Hugo Fin as he passed by carrying a ladder.
Hugo was the boss canvas man in charge of raising the big top and keeping order among those who worked for him. As rowdy a bunch as the roustabouts were, no one dared step out of line with Mr. Fin’s leveled stare upon him.
A frizzle of apprehension shot up her neck but she forced a smile and returned his greeting.
After he rounded the corner of the next trailer, she wrapped an imaginary cloak of confidence about her shoulders and walked down the stairs. In her mind she tugged it tight.
Without thinking she turned toward the path leading to the chuck wagon. It would be less traveled. She stopped so suddenly that a cloud of dust puffed about the toes of her shoes.
She was behaving like the spider when she needed to act like Leroy. The circus lion was always assured of his status as king of the beasts.
Spinning about, she strode purposefully along the more populated path.
Several yards ahead of her three women, two of them brave aerialists, had stopped to talk. Their skirts blew madly and they held their hats to their heads.
Instead of walking wide around them like her feet itched to do, she approached them.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted, noticing that her hand had broken into a sweat. What must they think of her just marching up and boldly beginning a conversation.
“You’re our new kitchen girl!” the youngest of the three declared.
“Agatha, isn’t that right?” asked the one who was known as the Fat Lady. “I hope you are more talented than the last girl we had. Her cooking was so bad that I began to waste away. You’d think butter and sugar were short of supply. Lands of glory, I was close to losing my job.”
“I hope I am more talented, too, ma’am.” She surely did. She did know for a fact that there was plenty of butter and sugar in the larder.
Too bad it was Laura Lee who was the cook. Her friend had worked in the kitchen back home on the Lucky Clover under Mrs. Morgan’s skillful guidance. Laura Lee was the one who had been given the job. Agatha only helped as best she
could.
Agatha’s talent for food was to consume it. For most of her twenty-three years, she hadn’t known what a pleasure eating could be. Her ever-watchful nurse, Hilda Brunne, had insisted that anything with the smallest amount of spice would ruin her charge’s health.
After all the years of deprivation, she was still too thin, but she was slowly gaining.
Agatha nodded goodbye to the three ladies then continued on her way, leaning into the wind.
That hadn’t been so bad. In fact she felt proud, buoyant of step, even. Only a week ago she would never have approached them.
The choice to leave the only home she had ever known had been a good one. Very hard and frightening, to be sure, but it was what she had to do.
If she was ever going to be an independent woman who could stand on her own, she needed to face a fear that had been planted bone-deep in her.
It hadn’t been an easy thing to do, leaving her twin sister, Ivy, and her husband, Travis, and kissing their baby daughter goodbye. Truly, all she’d wanted was to sit in the shadow of her balcony and be safe.
What she had to remind herself, each and every hour it seemed, was that by hiding in her suite back at the Lucky Clover, she was not living life.
Life with all its tension and thrill, was what she needed—wanted—desperately.
With renewed purpose in her step, Agatha continued along the way to the cook trailer. It circled around outside of the circus settlement, the backyard, as Hugo Fin called it.
There had been a time, and not long ago, when Agatha could not even walk. For her own twisted reasons, her nurse had made sure to keep her helpless.
Now, if she had to march twenty miles a day to build her strength that was what she would do.
“Lady,” came a voice from between two trailers. “Can you help me?”
Agatha stepped into the shadow between the trailers to see a woman sitting on the ground, her back propped up by the wheel behind her.
A young coochie girl, by the looks of her. Agatha had heard enough gossip to know that the dancing girls who worked for Frenchie Brown did far more scandalous things than dance without their clothes.