The Cowboy SEAL's Triplets

by Tina Leonard

  “My brothers can do anything.” When you lived on the road, you learned a lot of do-it-yourself handyman skills. “That’s awesome. I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah. Thrilled, actually. It’s great news.”

  Daisy wore a pleased expression. “There’s another draw to BC for your family, apparently.”

  “Oh?” He could tell his bride was holding back the big news.

  “Yes. They’re a bit fascinated with the matchmaking lore in our small town.”

  He grinned. “Looking to settle down, are they?”

  “It seems that the idea of families of their own appeals to Javier and Jackson. And your parents love the idea of settling where there’s a lot of grandchildren.”

  “I can’t believe it. Who would have ever thought all it would take to get my family off the road was a bunch of babies?”

  Daisy laughed. “Our babies settled us down.”

  He loved her, that was all there was to it. She was so happy to call herself settled, to be a mother and a wife. “I love you.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “And lucky for you, your entire family is staying here tonight to babysit.”

  He raised a brow. “Why is that lucky for me?”

  She got up, came to slide her arms around his neck. “Because tonight we’re going to have our honeymoon night, husband. I’ve got that lacy teddy you liked so much packed and ready to go.”

  His heart started beating real hard. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, the doctor’s sure. Everyone’s sure.”

  He sucked in a breath, felt his whole body responding to her. “Daisy, you drive me wild, beautiful.”

  He kissed her, drinking in the moment. Daisy and he, well, it had been worth the wait. She’d tried real hard to outrun him, but somehow he’d always known that this woman was the only woman for him.

  His heart always beat faster when she was around. Like right now, beating like crazy. Felt like a motorcycle in a fast lane, going hard to its destination. And the funny thing was how good it felt, as if everything in his life was exactly perfect now.

  John Lopez “Squint” Mathison had made it home, for good.

  * * *

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, John made it back to the underground cave. There was one thing he had to know, and this was where he’d find the answer.

  The cave was completely deserted, although he wouldn’t have been surprised to find Jane here. She appeared to be the keeper of the ledger, and Cosette was the keeper of the legend. Eventually, he’d figure out what his role in all this was to be, but for now, he wanted to know if the magic finally accepted him.

  He approached the table, pulled the ledger out of its hiding place. It fell open easily, surprising him.

  He sat down, turned a page, and started reading where he’d left off when the book had sealed itself before.

  Somehow I knew when I first arrived here that this place was my new home. We were hot and dusty from travel on the wagon, but most of the people decided to push on. I felt my heart beating harder here, racing with excitement, the moment I stepped down from the wagon and my feet touched the soil.

  I decided to stay, and so did Thomas.

  John looked up. There’d been no mention of a Thomas previously. He checked the tree in the front of the book quickly—no Thomas. He went back to Eliza’s fine, spare handwriting.

  We might not have made it past a few days if Hiram hadn’t come to see what the newcomers to the area were doing. How he must have laughed at our efforts. Thomas being from New York was hardly versed in how to survive on a prairie, and though I had nursing skills and knowledge of vegetation and cooking, settling was daunting.

  At first we were a bit unsure about this tall, dark-skinned man with the darkly electric eyes, but it was clear Hiram was educated and meant us no harm. Hiram said later that he’d only come to help us because I wore a pretty blue dress, unlike any blue he’d ever seen outside of the creek, which he later led us to so we could get fresh water.

  I think secretly Thomas hoped I’d give up on my adventure and return home, once the Texas heat and estrangement from my family wore me down. I can only say that, for my part, every day I grew more excited about my new home. And Hiram’s assistance made our settling go that much easier.

  Soon we had a shelter built, a very small house, with a room partitioned for me and one for Thomas. He very much hoped I’d accept his suit, but without any family here, it didn’t seem as important to me as it once had. Marriage was a lifetime commitment, and for the moment, I was committed to this new world that fascinated me.

  To my surprise, once people passing through on their way to farther off destinations saw our small house and the land we were clearing, a few more decided to stay. Within six months, we had neighbors of a sort.

  Thomas, however, had grown impatient. I realized he very much hoped to be back home for Christmas. I had no intention of leaving Texas. We were at an impasse—and then Hiram offered a suggestion, surprising me.

  He challenged Thomas to a race, to win my hand.

  Thomas did not accept that challenge outright, as he believed I would not be interested in the suit of a man from a tribe, an Indian whose way of life was so different from what the two of us had known.

  But in my heart, I felt a strong, strange connection to Hiram—even though I wasn’t sure his name was actually Hiram, or if that was just a name he gave us to sound civilized. He’d been tutored by some priests who had passed through their grounds over the years, and so he was quite comfortable with our language and our customs. If not for the fact that he was obviously a native, one would not have known by his manners and refinement.

  He was tall and strong, and well built, his face honest with its dark eyes and the clear intelligence he’d shown. I knew he liked to laugh—while Thomas was of a more serious bent.

  I accepted Hiram’s offer. Reluctantly, Thomas did, as well.

  They agreed to swim the creek for my hand. Some of our new neighbors came to watch. It was a close race, as Thomas was fit, but Hiram knew the waters better, and I believe swam with more purpose. To be honest, I think Thomas had begun to realize over time that I was not the bride he sought; I would never be happy in a refined drawing-room setting. Already I was eager to visit the village where the natives were and use my nursing skills to help, and learn from their style of preparing food. Thomas had no interest in the community, and I believe he didn’t compete with the same fervor as he once might have.

  I don’t know that for a fact, of course. It’s only a suspicion.

  Secretly, I was terribly glad Hiram won that day. I have been, ever since. He’s a good man, and he treats me well. His tribe let me know I was welcome. We settled not far from the creek, and it’s so beautiful here that some nights I just sit and stare at the stars and wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t come here.

  As far as I am concerned, it’s magic.

  John stopped reading, surprised by the story and yet somehow not surprised. All the women in Bridesmaids Creek were strong and independent; the founder had certainly set the precedent for courage and steady determination. He leafed back to the tree, seeing that Eliza had several children, three girls, one boy.

  Even back then, BC was destined to be a woman’s town.

  He read that she’d named Bridesmaids Creek and then Best Man’s Fork, after she and Hiram were married. It seemed romantic, and besides, the creek was how she’d come to have a husband. John learned that back home Eliza had been in several weddings, and folks had teased her that she might be destined to “always be a bridesmaid and never a bride.” But they’d been wrong.

  The footpath of the Fork became a very special spot for her and her beloved husband. They walked it often, gazing up at the stars and listening to the cricket
s and cicadas.

  “Hi,” he heard suddenly, and John looked up to see Daisy standing in the cave entrance. She looked like an angel, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Hello, wife.” Closing the ledger, he stood, walked straight to Daisy. “Fancy meeting you in this place.”

  “Cosette said I might find you here,” Daisy said, her face a little awed as she glanced around. “This is amazing. How did you ever find it?”

  John grinned. “The same way you did. Cosette and Jane.”

  “So this is where you were going the night the tornado hit. You were coming here to check on it.”

  John wrapped her in his arms. “Once the ladies and the sheriff admitted me to their secret club, I felt a duty to make sure it stayed safe.”

  Daisy looked up at him. “It’s what you do best. Keep things safe.”

  He loved the sound of that. He loved her holding him in her arms. “You realize we’re the new Madame Matchmaker and Monsieur Unmatchmaker? I don’t think there’s any way of getting away from it, now that we’ve been shown the secrets of Bridesmaids Creek.”

  Daisy tucked her head against his shoulder, close to his heart. “I think that’s exactly what we were always meant to be. It just took us a while to figure it out.” She looked up at him. “By the way, Cosette and Phillipe got back together. They’re getting married next weekend, and they’ve invited Sam back to do the honors.”

  “That seems appropriate. Sam’s going to figure out eventually that Bridesmaids Creek has no intention of letting him go. That’s just not what our town does. Once you’re here, you belong.”

  “And I’m so glad.”

  They walked to the cave entrance together, holding each other. This was heaven. He could have kept living everywhere and anywhere, but with Daisy and his children, he’d found home.

  They looked up as a shower of stars fell from the sky. Daisy laughed with delight, and John held his matchmaking bride close. It was magical here, and Daisy was magical, and John Lopez “Squint” Mathison might have been superstitious as hell, as his friends always said, but he’d always believed in magic.

  And in Bridesmaids Creek, love was the magic.

  Which made for a happy ending, every time.

  Epilogue

  Sam found himself performing another wedding ceremony, this time for John and Daisy on a beautiful July day, when cicadas sang in the trees and crickets chirped at dusk by the creek. It was the perfect music to accompany Daisy on Robert’s arm, as he walked her toward John, who stood waiting for his wife under a canopy of oak trees that had probably been around for the past two hundred years. Maybe as long ago as when Bridesmaids Creek had been settled and named by Eliza Chatham.

  Daisy was always beautiful, a stunner, but today she was a vision in a long white gown, her chocolate locks caressed by a veil flowing down her back. She carried a beautiful bouquet of white roses and greenery, and as she came to stand at his side, John caught his breath, falling in love with his wife all over again.

  Every day he loved her more. And his babies had sucked him into their busy worlds, drawing his heart further in with every breath they took.

  Their families and friends grouped around to watch the wedding, and John felt the blessing of their presence. Since the big storm, the town had become closer. Working together, they’d rebuilt the Hanging H, and the Haunted H had come back bigger and better than ever along the creek, drawing more visitors than ever. The sheriff’s jail had been completed, so “fancy,” as Dennis said, that it was more of a hotel than a jail—not that anyone ever spent any time there except to visit him.

  Cosette and Phillipe had their original shops back. Phillipe was teaching yoga in his shop, and Cosette taught deportment classes, which she called cotillion, on her side, and reopened the tearoom. Though she’d definitely gotten her matchmaking groove back, she left the matchmaking business up to Daisy, and that gave John plenty of time to watch his wife finagle unsuspecting victims up to the wedding altar. She’d already had two very successful matches so far: the first, her father, Robert, to Betty Harper. John had never seen that one coming, but Daisy wisely had, right about the time she mentioned to her father that Betty’s frosted Christmas cookies would be awesome in a mail-order business. His entrepreneurial-minded wife had been right—and the cookies proved an easy way to get Robert and Betty to see each other in a new light, which was something, considering the row they’d once had long ago.

  The meatheads—Daisy’s gang, John reminded himself—had talked Robert into selling them the Martin place. A ghost-riddled house was the perfect place to set up their cigar bar establishment, they claimed, so Robert sold it to them and stayed on at the Donovan compound. That was fine with John. He was comfortable with lots of people around. His parents had bought Phillipe’s house once he moved in with Cosette, and Javier and Jackson were staying at the Hanging H bunkhouse, with Justin finding that they were more than handy and welcome on the team. It was great having his family around, and they spent every second with the babies that they could, which brought them all closer together as a family, something John treasured.

  He didn’t shed a single tear when the old silver family trailer found its way to a buyer, and rolled off for the last time. For his family, he bought a van, and told Daisy it would never be used for distances greater than visiting family and friends.

  Mackenzie and Justin had once thought they’d never need additional hands at the Hanging H, but now business was booming, thanks to the Haunted H going so well. People came from miles around to look at the beautiful Hanging H, which had become something of a monument to the town. The Hawthornes would have been proud and awed by how their daughters had kept the family business going, and supporting Bridesmaids Creek.

  Daisy’s second match had been to fix Jackson up with one of the local girls, a sweet librarian who was compiling all the family’s road adventures into a book and a video. Though he’d never thought their family life was all that interesting, it turned out that people were fascinated by how a family could be raised on the road. There were already offers on the project to publish the book and do something with the video, much to John’s astonishment.

  But he was more interested in life in Bridesmaids Creek.

  John loved taking his babies on jogs, staying in shape the way a SEAL needed to do. He’d developed a stroller that would accommodate three babies safely, and every Saturday, he took them for a run down Best Man’s Fork. It was the most peaceful, serene time of his week, and the babies loved it. To his surprise, his jog had caught on with the town. First his SEAL brothers started out joining him with their broods, and that had made for a nice-sized group. Then the wives decided to join in, and that led to their friends coming out, too. Soon they had so many people coming out on the weekends to run the Best Man’s Fork that they decided to turn it into an annual charity marathon, because if there was one thing Bridesmaids Creek did really well, it was take care of each other, and anyone who might have a need of a helping hand. The charity was hugely successful, keeping John busy.

  But not too busy to be a great husband and father. He smiled at his darling wife as Sam began the wedding ceremony. Daisy smiled back up at him, her eyes full of love, and John knew he was the luckiest man in the whole world.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Excuse me,” Sam said, grinning. “I’m trying to conduct a wedding.”

  Daisy smiled. “I love you, too, my big hunky husband.” She stood on her toes to kiss him, and John breathed her in, held her tight, his heart expanding with joy. He heard Sam laugh and the guests applaud, but he didn’t let go of Daisy. This was the magic he’d always wanted.

  And he was never, ever letting her go.

  Because this was Bridesmaids Creek. The magic had always been here, right where he and Daisy had hoped to find it.

  They were finally home.
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  Together, forever.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BULL RIDER’S SON by Cathy McDavid.

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  The Bull Rider’s Son

  by Cathy McDavid

  Chapter One

  Few people receive a second chance in life. Shane Westcott was one of them—three times over—and he had no intention of squandering his good fortune. He was lucky to be alive, lucky to be gaining shared custody of his four-year-old daughter and lucky to have landed the job as bull manager at the Easy Money Rodeo Arena.

  “Keep him moving,” he called to Kenny, the young wrangler in charge of herding Wasabi from the large, open main pen into one of the smaller adjoining holding pens. It was imperative they isolate the bull from the others. “Don’t let him dawdle.”

  The solid black Brahma-longhorn cross had other ideas and stepped slowly, almost daintily, through the gate. His actions were so far removed from his normal fiery temper, Shane hardly recognized the bull.