Handpicked Husband (Love Inspired Historical)

by Griggs, Winnie

  For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.

  But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.

  His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.

  Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.

  It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the last six years.

  That, and the burning need to see justice done.

  He nudged his horse to a slightly faster pace.

  It would be nice if Miss Nash acted sensibly and dispatched this business with as little fuss as possible.

  It would be nice, but given the situation and his own run of bad luck, he didn’t hold out much hope.

  * * *

  Reggie sprinted down the overgrown trail, grateful for the freedom the overalls gave her. The road the men were taking meandered through this hilly woodland, twisting and turning without a discernable pattern. On foot, she could cut a much more direct path. With any luck, she’d reach the cabin a full ten minutes ahead of the riders.

  Thank goodness she’d decided not to take her photographic equipment with her this afternoon.

  Reggie winced as her boot caught on a root. Reluctantly, she slowed to a trot. Spraining an ankle wouldn’t be in her best interest.

  Adam Barr.

  Now there was a face she hadn’t expected to ever see outside of Philadelphia, much less in the backwoods of Northeast Texas. The last time she’d seen him had been in Grandfather Madison’s home seven years ago. A lifetime ago.

  Back then, her grandfather’s dashing young protégé had been an up-and-coming lawyer, a man who seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

  Until his spectacular fall from grace.

  She wasn’t the least bit surprised he hadn’t realized who she was. In fact, she doubted he’d have recognized her even if she’d been all gussied up in her Sunday best. She’d been only a girl back then, fifteen years old. And he’d mostly seen her in the company of her stepsister. Next to Patricia she might as well be invisible. Reggie had always thought of herself as shadow to Patricia’s sunlight.

  But she’d recognized him immediately. A woman rarely forgot the object of her first romantic schoolgirl fantasies—even if she’d dusted her hands of the fantasy as she matured.

  Not that he hadn’t changed. He’d aged of course, but it was more than that. He still had that heart-stopping dimple in his chin and bluer eyes than any man had a right to. But now those eyes held a flintiness, and that dimple seemed incongruous rather than endearing.

  He’d also got himself a faded but new-to-her scar on his cheek. A souvenir, no doubt, from the kind of life he’d lived since she saw him last.

  Well, she might have been young back then, but her wallflower status gave her lots of time to observe without being caught out. She’d sensed the charming, save-the-world idealist had some shadowy secret lurking behind his easy smile. In fact, it was one of the things that had drawn her to him, had caused her to moon over him with such private, embarrassing-to-remember enthusiasm all those years ago.

  Now, though, those shadows seemed to have taken stronger hold, giving his smile a cynical twist.

  Seeing him through the eyes of a woman rather than a child, Reggie was relieved to discover his glance no longer had the power to set her pulse aflutter. To the contrary, her heart-thumping reaction to the sight of him had been due to surprise—that was all.

  Of course, that was neither here nor there right now.

  What in tarnation was he doing in Texas? What possible reason could he have for seeking her out? And who were the three city dudes he’d brought along? Surely, if Grandfather Madison had sent them, he’d have sent word ahead of time. Of course, the old fox hadn’t told her of his plans to donate a new wing to Turnabout’s schoolhouse, either.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe they’d come to check on the progress of her grandfather’s newest project. But why had they come out here when the schoolhouse was back in town?

  None of this made sense.

  Could it have something to do with the letter she’d written Grandfather last month asking for guidance on how to formally adopt Jack? Were these men here to give her legal advice? But surely the matter was nothing more than a simple formality.

  As far as Jack was concerned she was practically his mother already. Jack had been only three months old when her stepsister Patricia passed on. She’d been helping her brother-in-law, Lemuel, care for him ever since. Now that Lemuel was gone as well, she wanted to make certain Jack knew how special he was to her.

  Her gut clinched. Surely there hadn’t been a problem with her request? What obstacle could there be to her adopting Jack? In the eyes of the law she was only his step-aunt, true enough, but he didn’t have any close blood kin, save the judge. No, there had to be some other reason they were here.

  Ignoring the stitch in her side, Reggie picked up speed again as the cabin came into view. She had preparations to make before her callers arrived.

  The Adam Barr she’d known all those years ago had been a pleasant, witty charmer, a self-made man who, after years of paying his dues, was just coming into his own. Certainly not a man to be afraid of.

  But time could change a person, especially considering where the zealous ex-lawyer had spent the past six years.

  Reggie wondered just when he’d gotten out of prison.

  Chapter Two

  As Reggie sprinted the last few feet to the cabin, Mrs. Peavy stepped out on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. “Goodness, what’s got you in such an all-fired hurry?”

  Reggie grabbed the porch rail, struggling to catch her breath. “Company’s coming.” She inhaled deeply then tried again. “Be here...in about five minutes.”

  “Company?” The housekeeper looked more puzzled than alarmed. “Who’d be coming out all this way?”

  “It’s Adam Barr.” Reggie climbed the steps, finally able to speak without panting. “He’s a friend of Grandfather’s I met in Philadelphia ages ago. And he’s brought three men with him.”

  “Land sakes. Someone’s come all the way from Philadelphia to see us? Did the judge send him?”

  “I’m not sure. But until I find out, I’d rather keep Jack busy elsewhere. Would you step down to the lake and let Ira know he and Jack should stay put until I signal it’s okay?”

  Mrs. Peavy gave her a considering look. The squarely built woman was shorter than Reggie and had more salt than pepper in her hair, but she could assume a commanding presence when she wanted to. “You expecting trouble?”

  Reggie shrugged. “Hard to tell.” For now, she’d keep the information about Adam’s jail time to herself. She didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Peavy. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let the housekeeper know caution was in order. “I’d just prefer to find out what this is about before introducing them to Jack.”

  Their reason for seeking her out might be perfectly innocent, but she didn’t believe in taking chances. Four able-bodied men versus herself, a six-year-old and an elderly couple—the scales seemed weighted in the visitors’ favor if trouble erupted. But there were a few things she could do to even the odds until she learned their reasons for being here.

  She gave Mrs. Peavy a level look. “Ira does have his hunting rifle with him, doesn’t he?”

  The housekeeper straightened, then nodded. “I won’t be gone but a few minutes. Think I’ll bring Buck back with me. You go get yourself cleane
d up.”

  Oh, she’d clean up all right. By the time the handsome lawyer-turned-convict and his friends arrived, there’d be nary a trace of the ragtag tomboy they’d met earlier.

  If Adam Barr remembered anything at all about her from her long ago visits to Philadelphia, then he’d learn he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. She wasn’t the tongue-tied wallflower she used to be.

  In Philadelphia she’d always felt like some critter put on a leash and made to heel. Here, she was free to be herself.

  She marched into the cabin, her hands already on the buttons of her overalls, her mind planning her next moves.

  If she remembered right, her old blue dress had pockets large enough to hide her father’s derringer.

  * * *

  Adam bit off a groan as Chance cleared his throat. He should have known the silence wouldn’t last.

  “Do you really believe Miss Nash came out here to avoid us?”

  The question hung in the air a moment, then Everett swatted at something on his neck with an irritated oath. “Can you think of any other reason a sane person would choose to hide out in this ghastly wilderness?”

  Adam refrained from comment. Arriving in Turnabout to discover the judge’s granddaughter had retreated to an isolated cabin had only added to his sense of time—and opportunities—slipping away. The plan had been for Miss Nash to receive her grandfather’s letter of explanation before the four of them arrived so she would have time to come to terms with the arrangement in relative privacy.

  Instead, she’d apparently used the time to enact this childish stalling tactic. Did she think they’d get tired of waiting and go back to Philadelphia? Or was she using the time to devise some clever scheme to outmaneuver them?

  Well, he had no intention of cooling his heels in Turnabout while waiting for her to reappear. Over the grumbling protests of his companions, he’d immediately set out to find her.

  Judge Madison had cautioned that his granddaughter would do her best to thwart his plans. He’d also said she was shrewd and not one to take being manipulated with good grace. In other words, much like the judge himself, even if the two didn’t share a blood tie.

  Adam had expected a more direct assault, however, not this cowardly retreat. But, then again, he was dealing with a woman.

  Of course, the judge also had good things to say about the step-granddaughter he obviously loved. He’d assured Adam that beneath her tough exterior was a kind-hearted, vulnerable woman. The old schemer had made Adam promise to do his utmost to see that she wasn’t unduly embarrassed by the situation. Although, considering the “situation” was instigated by the judge himself, and deliberately orchestrated to force her hand, Adam wasn’t certain how he was going to pull off that part of his assignment.

  But he’d given his word to try. It was the least he could do for the one person who’d stood by him through everything.

  And it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel some sympathy for Miss Nash. He could imagine her reaction to that letter. She no doubt felt as if she were being backed into a corner.

  And he, of all people, knew what it was to feel trapped and betrayed by those you trusted.

  “I still think the three of us should have stayed in town while you approached Miss Nash alone.” Mitchell’s words held an accusatory edge. “I can’t imagine Judge Madison would approve of the lot of us descending on his granddaughter’s privacy this way.”

  “It’s my job to decide what the judge would or wouldn’t want,” Adam answered shortly. He might owe the older man a debt of gratitude, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for his own interests as well.

  “Do you think that’s Miss Nash’s place?”

  Adam raised up in the saddle at Chance’s words. They’d topped a low hill, and ahead of them, barely visible amidst the trees, was a log structure.

  “Only one way to find out.” He nudged Trib into a trot.

  The others didn’t appear to share his impatience. Not only didn’t they increase their pace, Adam sensed a definite slowing of the carriage. The closer he got to the cabin, however, the less certain he was that they’d reached their destination. He studied the place while the carriage caught up.

  “The judge’s granddaughter is staying here?” Everett’s words echoed Adam’s thoughts.

  They’d all been inside Judge Madison’s stately home. Adam had assumed the granddaughter lived in a comparable level of luxury, albeit a more countrified version. Of course, this wasn’t the household’s primary residence, but even so...

  “This is a hovel.” Everett sounded horrified.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Chance’s response lacked conviction. “It’s plain, but—”

  “Look at it.” The British undertones in Everett’s voice sharpened. “The walls are unfinished logs and the whole lot isn’t much bigger than a respectable parlor. Those benches on the porch—bah! They look as if they were put together with odd bits of scrap timbers by a drunken carpenter. There aren’t even glass panes on the windows.”

  Adam turned to face them. “We don’t know for certain that this is Miss Nash’s place.” He narrowed his eyes and added a flintiness to his tone. “But even if it is, she’s Judge Madison’s granddaughter and is to be treated like a lady. Is that understood?”

  He might be as irritated as a picnicker in a rainstorm by Miss Nash’s delaying tactics, but he’d given his word to protect her honor, and these men better remember that.

  He waited for their reluctant nods, then faced forward again. Now that he’d had time to get a good look at the place, he found he didn’t agree with Everett’s assessment. True, the structure was rougher than he’d expected. But the swing hanging on one end of the porch held calico cushions, and the whole area seemed well-tended. Maybe it was because of the years he’d spent in that iron-barred rat hole, but this place had a simple, homey appeal.

  Wisps of smoke curling from the chimney and an abandoned checkerboard on the porch assured him someone was in residence, but was it Miss Nash? It seemed more likely this was home to the girl they’d encountered earlier. Not that she’d had time to make it here. Still, there might be someone else about.

  Sure enough, a stocky, older woman appeared from the side of the cabin. The banshee’s mother perhaps?

  Whoever she was, she eyed them with as much suspicion as the muddy yellow cur padding along beside her. The dog had a feral quality that didn’t bode well for anyone the creature took a dislike to.

  Chance gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at that mutt, will you? He’s big as a pony, and those teeth are like spikes. Do you suppose he’s part wolf?”

  “Given our surroundings, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Everett responded. “I, however, don’t intend to get close enough to examine his features.”

  “Afraid?” Chance’s tone matched the sneer on his face. “Are you a coward as well as a dandy?”

  “Listen, boy.” Everett flicked a spot of dust from his sleeve. “I have no intention of rising to an adolescent dare just to prove I can live up to your idea of manly valor.”

  The dog watched the men without blinking. The woman’s expression was even less welcoming than that of the cur.

  Doing his best to ignore the squabbling men, Adam tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re looking for Miss Regina Nash. Can you tell me where I might find her?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  The lack of warmth in the woman’s tone was punctuated by a low growl from her companion. She lowered her hand to stroke the creature’s head, never taking her gaze from Adam.

  What did it take to get a straight answer around here? Adam tamped down his impatience. “My name is Adam Barr. Miss Nash’s grandfather sent me.”

  She nodded acknowledgment, but remained stone-faced. “Funny, the judge didn’t send word about your coming.”

  Did that mean this was Miss Nash’s place? In which case, was the female major domo bluffing, or had Miss Nash kept the letter a secret?

  No
t that it mattered. Adam would play along, as long as it got the judge’s granddaughter out here. “As a matter of fact, he did. Perhaps his letter arrived after you left town.”

  Her manner remained stiff. “I see.” She gave the dog’s head another pat, then moved to the steps. “Miss Reggie’s inside. I’m Mabel Peavy, the housekeeper. If you gents will make yourselves at home out here, I’ll let her know we have company.”

  A housekeeper for this place? It was almost laughable, if he’d been in the mood to be amused. If Regina Nash was inside she’d doubtless overheard them. Why didn’t she come on out? Surely she knew it was futile to continue hiding?

  As Mrs. Peavy reached the door, she glanced back. “Don’t worry about Buck. He won’t bother you as long as you don’t make any sudden moves toward one of the family members. He has a strong protective streak. Otherwise, he’s just a big overgrown puppy.”

  The dog’s baleful glare seemed to contradict her statement.

  Adam dismounted, glad to stand after sitting in a saddle for so long. He moved toward the porch, but only climbed the first two steps before lounging back against a support post. No shaded bench for him. He preferred to feel the sun on his face. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of fresh air and open spaces ever since he shook off the dust of prison two months ago.

  Besides, from here he had a clear view of the door.

  Everett climbed onto the porch, giving Buck a wide berth. He dusted a chair with his handkerchief, then sat down with the air of royalty stooping to grace a mud hut.

  Chance paused in front of the dog. When the beast bared his fangs, though, Chance continued up the steps. Glowering at Everett’s smirk, he sauntered to a bench on the other side of the porch and slouched down on it.

  Mitchell remained on the grass in front of the porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He kept a respectful distance from the dog, but otherwise seemed more concerned with watching the front door than the animal.

  Adam thought about who these men were and what they were being offered, and he still couldn’t find the logic in the judge’s selections. Everett—an officious dandy who’d destroyed an entire family with his sloppy reporting. Mitchell—a man who’d let his bottled rage get the better of him and killed someone in a gunfight. Chance—the spoiled younger son of a politician who’d gotten into trouble one too many times for the law to continue turning a blind eye.