“It’s just a scratch,” she said as she offered her arm for his inspection. “I was trying to get up the rocks quickly, and I slipped. I’m fine, but my riding outfit is ruined.”
“The outfit can be replaced,” he said as he inspected her arm. “But you cannot.” He pulled out his knife and a length of toweling and cut a bandage then tied it in place. “You’ll be fine, I think, but we aren’t going anywhere until the weather improves.”
For once, Tavia did not argue with him. Instead, she allowed him to wrap her in his blanket and then hold her in his arms. “Are you cold?”
She smiled. “Not anymore.”
“All right, then,” he said as he gathered her closer. “Tavia, when I saw that blood and that torn fabric, I thought…” He paused.
“I’m fine, Rit.” She swiveled around in his arms. “Really, I am. A little damp, maybe, and a little clumsy, but fine. How’s the horse?”
“The horse is back home in the stable, likely having his fill of hay and getting a nice rubdown.”
“Good,” she said as she settled back against his shoulder. “I was worried.”
“Yes, you would be,” he said. “Seeing as you’re an expert horsewoman and all.”
She gave him a look. “I am.”
Rit patted her arm. “I know. I was teasing. What happened?”
“There was a snake on the trail. The horse spooked.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m very glad you found me,” she said. “I couldn’t get the matches to light.”
He looked down at the drenched female, her hair now hanging in loose curls around her shoulders and her riding outfit streaked with mud and soaked by the rain. Tiny freckles he hadn’t noticed until now dotted her nose and belied her proper upbringing. She was a damp mess, and she was the most beautiful thing he’d laid eyes on in quite some time.
She smiled, and the sight took his breath away. In that moment, the heart he’d been guarding for far too long slipped from his possession and became hers. And it didn’t hurt a bit.
What he’d do about this remained to be seen.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“Something’s right, actually,” he said. “Being here with you can get a man thinking that he’d like to spend a whole lot more time in your company.”
“Is that so?” He could tell by her teasing tone that she wasn’t taking him seriously.
“Yes, Tavia, that is so,” he said in what he hoped she would consider a more serious tone. “I know you, and I have been playing a game to fool the bride brigade, but somewhere along the way, I went and fell in—”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk about something else. I could use your advice,” Tavia said.
He tried not to show his disappointment. Here he’d been about to tell her he loved her, and she went and interrupted him. “All right,” he said slowly. “Go ahead.”
“I wrote a letter to my parents asking them to forgive me, but I think that wasn’t enough. I feel so guilty here enjoying myself when I know they’re worrying about me.” She paused to worry with the trim on her sleeve and then swung her gaze to meet Rit’s. “I think I ought to go home.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Home? When?”
“As soon as possible,” she said. “Tomorrow, if I can.”
“Tomorrow? No, that’s not possible. See, there isn’t a train headed toward Denver until…” He paused as if he were calculating the railroad schedule. “Next month, probably.”
“Next month!”
“Well, all right, maybe sooner,” he conceded. “Could be as soon as day after tomorrow.”
He knew good and well that he could put her on the train at noon tomorrow. What he didn’t know was why he was babbling like a schoolboy.
“Good. Then it’s decided.” She moved toward the edge of the cave, and Rit followed her.
“Right, it’s decided,” he said with much more authority. “And if you go, I’m going with you.”
She paused to place her hand atop his, and the relief on her pretty face was almost worth the idea of helping her. “You’re a good friend, Rit Baker. Thank you.”
A good friend.
Rit met her gaze. “Is that all I am to you? Because at some point in our charade, I stopped pretending, and I think you have, too.”
Tavia’s eyes widened, and then she looked away. “We should go.”
So she was as afraid as he was. “Tavia,” he said gently as he reached up to trace the line of her jaw. “I’ve run from any entanglements with a woman for so long that it scares me to think I don’t want to run anymore. Is it possible you feel the same way?”
“I don’t run.” She shrugged out of his reach. “Now, we really should go.”
“And yet that’s exactly how you and I met, isn’t it? You were running away.” He watched her head for the cliff. “Just like you’re doing now.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” she stated in a voice that was anything but firm. “I’m proving to my father that I can make it on my own, without a man to take care of me. That’s what I came all this way to do.”
Rit stood right where he was just long enough to decide the stubborn woman would try and climb down without him if he attempted to argue. She’d go to Denver, and he’d go with her. They’d have plenty of time to argue this point later.
“Stay right where you are. If you fall, my mother will have my head.”
“I can do this, Rit.”
He moved between her and the rock. “We can do it better together, Tavia. Let me help you, and I promise I won’t bring up how you’re running away from me now until we get to Denver.”
Tavia looked ready to argue, and then she shook her head. “Fine, but I’m not agreeing that you’re right.”
“Of course you aren’t,” he said with a laugh. “That would be far too easy.”
She allowed him to help her down the rocks. Rit rode back to the ranch house in silence with Tavia tucked in front of him. When the bell rang out announcing their return, half the household, including Mother, poured out to greet them.
Mother wrapped one arm around Tavia. “Rit, you go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll see that Tavia is taken care of.”
And then they were gone. Mother and Tavia strolling away like old friends and the servants scattering in all directions. Rit handed the bay over to the stable boy with instructions to provide an extra lump of sugar.
Overhead, the first evening stars shown between breaks in the clouds, echoing his mood. The man who’d fought the bride brigade was about to fight to gain a bride.
True to his word, Rit didn’t mention a thing about their conversation in the cave, although he thought about it plenty. It sat between them on the train to Denver, a presence bigger than the grumpy maid Mother had sent to accompany Tavia and keep her from suffering any dents to her reputation.
Three days after he’d nearly declared his love for Miss Octavia Derby, Rit helped her out of a carriage in front of a home that rivaled his own. Before Tavia’s feet hit the ground, a well-dressed woman who bore a strong resemblance to her came flying out the front door.
“You’re home!” This woman, presumably Tavia’s mama, cried. It took several minutes of fussing and hugging before she noticed Rit standing there. “And who is this?”
Rit introduced himself and allowed the women to lead him inside. There he met the formidable Mr. Derby face-to-face. Tavia’s father was tall, almost as tall as he, with less gray than having a daughter like Tavia should have caused. His tanned skin and muscled build spoke of a life at least partially lived outdoors and likely on horseback, while his clothing told another tale entirely.
“Father,” Tavia said as she threw herself into his arms. “Oh Father, I am so very sorry. Will you forgive me?”
With her head buried in his chest, Tavia could not see her father’s expression soften as he wrapped his arms around her, but Rit did. A moment later, he gave her a kiss atop her head and then held her at arm’s length.
“Welcome home, Daughter,” he said most kindly. Abruptly his attention switched to Rit. “And this must be your fiancé. Octavia wrote us about your arrangement.”
Rit smiled and reached out to offer his hand. “Merritt Baker, sir. And yes, with your permission, I wish very much to call myself your daughter’s fiancé.”
He watched Tavia’s eyes go wide. “No, Father, no real promises have been made,” she said as she turned to face Rit. “Tell him it was all a trick, Rit. That it was just a ruse to keep you from being pestered by all of those women.”
“It did start out that way, sir,” Rit admitted as he watched Mr. Derby’s brows rise. “But that has since changed.”
Mr. Derby glanced down at Tavia. “I will see you after I have spoken to your fellow here, Octavia.”
“But Father, I don’t think—”
“Come, dear,” her mother said as she shepherded Tavia down the hall away from the men.
Mr. Derby ushered Rit into a wood-paneled room lined with leather-bound books and populated with paintings of fine horses and Western landscapes. Above the fireplace was a portrait of a woman and a child, obviously Mrs. Derby and Tavia.
Mr. Derby gestured to a chair opposite the desk. “Sit down, Mr. Baker.”
Rit complied, but his host lingered at the fireplace. Finally he turned back in Rit’s direction and took his chair at the desk. They sat in uncomfortable silence with Tavia’s father studying him and Rit refusing to look away.
Finally the elder Derby sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I must say this is not how I expected things to turn out when Bridget presented her plan to us. It was a good plan, mind you, but I did not think that the situation would become so…” He paused long enough to allow a sweeping glance of Rit. “So complicated.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Rit said. “I don’t follow.”
The older man shrugged. “No, I don’t suppose you would. You see, our maid, Bridget, has an aunt in your employ, a Miss O’Shea.”
“She’s the backbone of Baker Shipping and is like family to me, sir.”
“Which is why I allowed myself to think that…” He shook his head. “I will spare you the details, son, but the train that was supposed to see my daughter wed to you has run off track, and we need to set it to rights again.”
“Excuse me?” Rit shook his head. “Are you saying that Tavia’s employment at Baker Shipping was designed to cause me to marry her?”
“You needed a wife, and Miss O’Shea spoke highly of you. My daughter needed a husband, and Bridget spoke highly of her. The two of them began to put two and two together awhile ago. All that was left was to get you together, but this false engagement of yours was not something her mother and I anticipated.”
Rit grinned. “I can relieve you of your concern, sir.”
“You can?”
Rit nodded. “While this engagement did indeed begin as false, I have fallen in love with Tavia, sir. I cannot imagine a life without her, and I wish to marry your daughter as soon as possible. With your permission, that is.”
Mr. Derby’s expected smile did not materialize. “Son, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not sure I want my daughter wed to a man who was willing to pretend affiance in order to help himself. Did you ever once stop and consider what a broken engagement, pretend or real, would mean to Octavia’s reputation?”
Rit rose. “I did not, sir, and for that I apologize, but I think you’ve just made your own case for me marrying your daughter.”
By degrees the man’s stern face softened, and he chuckled. “I suppose I have. However, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of enthusiasm my daughter showed at the idea of making your engagement real.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what her objection is, sir, but with your help, I think she can be persuaded. Also, I propose we skip the engagement and go straight for the marriage. What do you say? I hope I do not offend you and your wife by asking permission to marry her immediately.”
“Immediately? I say paying for the reception of the year is a sight better than having two wedding-mad women planning the wedding of the year for who knows how long under my roof.” Tavia’s father grinned. “If you can convince her, then I’m all for it. But that will be our little secret. Neither my daughter nor her mother is to know I approve, understood?”
“Understood. It might help my cause if I can let Tavia know you aren’t against the idea of our eloping. She does value your approval.”
“All right, but if she realizes you and she were introduced thanks to Miss O’Shea…”
“Leave that to me, Mr. Derby.”
“Welcome to the family, son,” he said. “With all the happiness and trouble that entails.”
Rit reached across the desk to shake Mr. Derby’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“Use my carriage,” Mr. Derby said. “It’s the least I can offer for now.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s all I’ll need. Well, that and…” He raised his voice. “Do you realize, sir, that your daughter earned her own way for almost a month in a very large city?”
Mr. Derby stared at him, and then the light dawned. He spoke just as loudly as Rit. “Yes, Mr. Baker, I have to admit that I was wrong about Octavia. She certainly does not need a man to take care of her. This little escapade of hers has shown me that quite clearly.”
The two men exchanged a grin, both struggling to keep from laughing out loud.
A few minutes later, Rit opened the door, and Tavia nearly tumbled into his arms. “Tavia! Were you listening?” he demanded.
“I was trying,” she admitted without shame. “A pity you men don’t speak loud enough to be properly heard.”
“As impertinent as always, daughter,” Tavia’s father said with a laugh. “And you’re certain you want to wed yourself to this sort of woman, Mr. Baker?”
“I have no doubts, sir.” Rit turned to Tavia. “What about you, Miss Derby? Do you have doubts, or shall we make this false engagement real?”
Tavia beamed at him. “I have no doubts, Rit, but an engagement? I thought we were eloping.”
Mr. Derby’s laughter, along with Rit’s, brought Mrs. Derby running. “What is going on in here?”
“Never mind, dear,” he said. “These two were just leaving.”
“Leaving?” Mrs. Derby shook her head. “But you’ve only just arrived. I had hoped to throw a party to celebrate your return to Denver, sweetheart,” she said to Tavia. “Something grand and elegant, with the best music, and oh, what fun!”
Mr. Derby gave Rit a see-what-I-mean look.
“Keep planning, Mrs. Derby,” Rit said. “I wager there will be cause for celebration very soon.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded. “Explain what that man means,” followed them as Rit closed the door and then gathered Tavia up in his arms.
“Put me down!” she demanded with a giggle.
“Not until you’re safely in the carriage,” he said as the coachman opened the door and he deposited his soon-to-be bride inside. “Marry me, Octavia Derby. Be the final Baker bride!”
Tavia reached up to kiss him. “I would be honored, Merritt Baker.”
He stepped back and regarded her with a quizzical smile. “What’s this? No argument? No running away? What has happened to the woman I love?”
“I am absolutely running away.” She paused to kiss him again. “With you, Rit. Now get in this carriage before I change my mind.”
“Where to, sir?” The coachman asked.
“Where does a man go to elope in these parts? With her father’s permission,” he quietly added.
The coachman grinned. “I know just the place, sir!”
“Onward then,” Rit called as he settled beside his bride-to-be. “We have a happily-ever-after to get to!”
Bestselling author Kathleen Y’Barbo is a multiple Carol Award and RITA nominee of forty-five novels with almost two million copies of her books in print in the United States and abroad. A tenth-generation Texan and c
ertified family law paralegal, she has been nominated for a Career Achievement Award as well a Reader’s Choice Award and several Top Picks by Romantic Times magazine. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, and a former member of the Texas Bar Association Paralegal Division, she is currently a proud military wife and an expatriate Texan cheering on her beloved Texas Aggies from north of the Red River.
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