The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  Horror sank into the pit of her stomach. He must have seen her almost take the bread. Heat flashed to her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, too ashamed to look him in the eye. He tapped her forearm. Shaking her head, she flexed her muscles to press her face harder into her palms. Oh, she had never been more humiliated.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  Reluctantly, she glanced up, tears already pooling in her eyes.

  He gave her a gentle smile. “Take this.”

  She looked down at the beef jerky in his hands. “I…I couldn’t.” She couldn’t look away. Before she could stop herself, she licked her lips like a wolf eyeing a tasty rabbit just before it pounced.

  “Take it, miss,” he urged. “I have more.”

  Unable to resist a second longer, she took it. “Th–thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded. Then he leaned back and covered his face once more with his hat while she gnawed the dried meat, savoring it as though it were a juicy chicken leg.

  San Francisco

  “I am sorry, Mr. Worthington, but there is nothing we can do. Your mother left no detail to chance. I assure you, her will is binding.”

  “I can fight it in court. Then we’ll see how binding it is.”

  Frank Chadwick, Mrs. Worthington’s long-standing attorney, glowered, and Robert could tell he was fighting to stay calm. “I seriously doubt any judge will be inclined to award you the estate, particularly after you tried to frame the girl for your mother’s murder.”

  “How was I to know Mother’s heart failed?”

  “To say the girl pushed her and demanded money was a deliberate ploy so that you could contest the will.”

  Yes, and it would have worked if the housekeeper hadn’t seen Mother slip out of Alisa’s grasp and the girl try desperately to save her.

  “So I’m left with only the company?”

  “Seventy-five percent of the company.” Mr. Chadwick leaned forward. “The girl, should she be found, will be awarded the house and all of its contents, twenty-five percent of the shipping company, and the money in all the accounts, with the exception of two thousand dollars. Your mother thought you might need it to tide you over for a few weeks. By then you should be receiving revenue from the shipping company.”

  Robert leaned back against the brown leather chair. Mr. Chadwick smiled—most smugly—his fingers steepled in front of him.

  Two thousand dollars. That wouldn’t pay for much of anything. Robert knew Mother had at least three million dollars sitting in those accounts. Nausea nearly overwhelmed his stomach at the thought of all that money going to the girl. It would take him thirty years to make back that kind of cash with the income from 75 percent of the business. What right did she have to it? He felt no responsibility, no affection for the girl who carried his blood in her veins. Truth be told, there could easily be a dozen more just like her between here and England. He didn’t know, nor did he care.

  “And if the girl isn’t found?” He could make sure she wasn’t, if necessary.

  Chadwick narrowed his gaze. “The money will stay in an account for ten years, at the end of which time it will be given to charities.”

  “Charity?”

  “Your mother was quite firm about the matter.”

  “What are my choices if I am to prevent this young woman from stealing my inheritance?”

  The lawyer’s lip curled in poorly disguised disgust, but Robert didn’t care. Let him lose three million dollars and his childhood home and see how he’d behave.

  “Well?” Robert demanded.

  “You can always find her, speak with her, and if she is willing to sign over her rights to the house and the money, then I suppose they would go to you.”

  Hope flickered anew in Robert. Then that’s what he’d do. Put out ads all over the state. Post a reward. One thousand dollars. No, he only had two. On the other hand, if the girl was found, he’d have more than enough to pay a reward. Five hundred.

  He stood and extended his hand. “Thank you, Frank. You’ve been most helpful.”

  Chapter 2

  Acramp in his leg pulled Titus rudely from sleep. He sat up straight, rubbing at the knot in his thigh, and took his hat from his face. After being awake throughout the night and walking all the way to San Francisco, he was worn clear through. But at least he wasn’t hungry. Not like the girl sitting across from him. He hadn’t offered her another strip of meat. No sense adding to her humiliation. Poor thing. His heart clenched at the memory of her staring at the kid’s bread.

  She slept, her head resting against the wall. The open window sent a breeze through the stagecoach and lifted wayward strands of auburn hair from her forehead. Titus swallowed hard at the sight. Her long lashes framed beautiful, enormous eyes and brushed the tops of her cheeks as she slept. His brow furrowed at the sight of the dark circles. She’d undoubtedly lost as much sleep as he had. But why? What possessed a woman to spend her last dime on a stage ticket? She had no luggage that he’d seen. Only a small reticule that she clutched tightly even in sleep. Everything about her indicated a woman on the run.

  The stage hit a hole and jostled. A shuddering breath lifted her shoulders. She opened her eyes, sitting up as she did so. She looked straight at him, and her eyes widened.

  Caught staring, Titus sent her a sheepish grin. He thought he detected a twitch of her lips before she averted her gaze to the window.

  “How long until we reach Reliable?” The low, sleep-induced huskiness of her voice was alluring, he had to admit. A bit of guilt niggled at him for thinking it; after all, he’d been jilted less than a week ago.

  He glanced out the window, barely remembering to answer her question. “I’d say no more than three or four hours.” He tipped his hat. “I’m Titus Chance. My family owns a ranch not far from Reliable. You got family there?”

  She shook her head. “N–no.”

  “Mail-order bride?”

  Her face reddened. “No.”

  “So no folks, no husband waiting?” For some reason his heart lightened at the last bit of information. Still, he hated the thought of her being alone. “Do you have friends? Or at the very least a position of employment waiting?” His throat dried out in a split second as he mentally ran through a list of possible employers.

  “I have no one and no job.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, Reliable might not be the best choice of a town for a pretty young woman all alone.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words, but what happened next filled him with horror.

  Her lovely brown eyes filled with tears.

  He swallowed hard and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Please don’t cry, miss.” He should be shot. Why did he always have to blurt out the truth?

  “Oh, it’s not your fault. I cry far too easily. I…I don’t know what I’ll do if there’s nothing for me in Reliable.” She eyed him. “I mean respectable employment.”

  It was Titus’s turn to blush. He couldn’t think of anything that she could do. In a young town the size of Reliable, there weren’t many positions available for a decent woman. But he planned to see what he could do. He knew enough people that surely someone would take her in.

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “Alisa.”

  He smiled. “Alisa what?”

  She hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “My name is Alisa Worthington.” She said the words like an announcement.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Worthington. Would you care to have dinner with me?”

  “Dinner?”

  He grinned and reached into his bag. “It’s not much,” he said, offering her a strip of the jerky.

  “You’ve been too kind already.” She eyed the meat hungrily.

  “Nonsense.” He offered it again. This time she took it.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hate to eat alone.”

  A pretty smile lifted the corners of her lips.

  Titus almost choked on his b
ite of jerky. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to see her smile. The sight of it brightened the entire inside of the stagecoach, as far as he was concerned.

  A giggle from the other side of the stagecoach captured his attention. He turned to find the woman next to Miss Worthington grinning at him. She sent him a broad wink. His ears burned to have been so transparent.

  To his profound relief, she didn’t dwell on the situation. Instead, she stretched and moved the still-sleeping little boy onto the seat. He mumbled and shifted and finally ended up with his head resting against Miss Worthington’s shoulder.

  “Do you mind?” the child’s mother asked. “I’m worn clean through. He sure isn’t the teensy baby he once was.” With a weary huff, she glanced out the window, then back to Titus. “How far do we have to go?” she asked.

  “Only a couple more hours.”

  “Oh, I will be so glad to be done with trains and stagecoaches. I never plan to travel again.”

  “Do you have family in town?” Titus asked, more to be polite than from a desire to know.

  “My brother, Aaron Bladdel. Do you know him?”

  “The blacksmith? Sure. I didn’t realize he had a sister.”

  She laughed, and her twinkling blue eyes set in a chubby-cheeked face made him feel more at ease. “I suppose I should be insulted that he hasn’t mentioned me.”

  “We talk more business than anything.”

  “Then I suppose I’ll forgive him.”

  Titus returned her smile. “Will your husband be joining you?”

  Her expression crashed. “No. I’m afraid my Henry passed on a few weeks ago. That’s why Davy and I are here.”

  Miss Worthington reached around Davy and patted her hand. “I am so sorry, Mrs….” She glanced at Titus for support, but he hadn’t caught the woman’s name, either.

  “Ah, well.” The woman pulled a lace handkerchief from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. “There’s no point in crying. It only upsets Davy. And my name is Mrs. Greene. Violet Greene.” She smiled. “Henry always laughed at my name. Two colors.”

  Titus had to admire her spirit. He didn’t want to bring it up, but he doubted seriously she’d be long without a husband. Not in a town where the men outnumbered the women about twenty to one.

  Of course that applied to Miss Worthington, too. Now that thought stuck in his craw, and it was mighty uncomfortable!

  Alisa’s arm was growing numb by the time Davy woke up and glared at her as though she’d been the one to pull him from the safety and warmth of his mother’s lap.

  “I’m thirsty, Mommy.”

  “I know, sweetheart. We will be in Reliable very soon, and I will get you a drink.”

  “I’m thirsty now!”

  “I’m sorry, but the water is all gone. You drank it to wash down your lunch, remember? I told you that was all.”

  Mr. Chance slipped his hand into his saddlebag and produced a canteen.

  “Oh, we couldn’t,” Mrs. Greene insisted.

  “I have plenty.” He winked at Davy. “Can’t have the boy thirsty. Take some for yourself, as well, and pass it to Miss Worthington.”

  The little boy gulped noisily, then heaved a sigh and began swinging his legs, thumping the bottom of the seat as he had earlier.

  Alisa pressed her fingertips to her temple, trying to ward off the mounting ache.

  “Hey, little fella,” Mr. Chance said, smiling at Davy. “How about not kicking that seat?”

  The child scowled and turned his face to his mother’s arm, but he continued to thump the seat. “I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Greene said. “It’s difficult for him to keep still.”

  “It’s all right,” Alisa said. She’d never seen such a poorly behaved child. Growing up in an orphanage had taught her obedience. Though her upbringing had not been harsh, it was most definitely strict.

  Trying to ignore the pain in her head, now throbbing in time to the kicks of Davy’s boots against the seat, she glanced out the window. In the distance, she saw riders coming. She turned to alert Mr. Chance, but his gaze, too, was focused toward the horizon. A muscle jerked in his jaw.

  A sense of unease crept through Alisa as she felt his tension. His hand went to his gun belt. It was empty. Frustration crossed his features.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Chance?”

  “The men coming are not the welcoming party from Reliable,” he said in a matter of-fact tone.

  “Oh, Reliable has a welcoming party?” Mrs. Greene asked.

  Alisa fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I believe Mr. Chance is saying the men coming are up to no good.”

  Mr. Chance nodded gravely. “You’re right, Miss Worthington. I’m afraid those are the same men who robbed me last night. They took my gun and my horse and all the money I had in my pocket.”

  Mrs. Greene let out a little shriek and grabbed Davy close. “Oh my.”

  “Mr. Wayne?” the cowboy called to the stage master.

  “I see ’em,” came the rough reply. “Yaw!” he yelled to the horses, and the stage sped up.

  But even Alisa could see there would be no outrunning two men on horseback. “What should we do, Mr. Chance?”

  “Unless you have a pistol hidden in that bag of yours, I suggest we pray.” He hesitated; then he gave what Alisa was sure was supposed to have been a reassuring smile. However, it fell short of doing any such thing. “If they were out to truly do any harm, I’m sure they would have done more than kick dirt in my face and steal my horse.”

  “They kicked dirt in your face?” Mrs. Greene asked. “How awful.”

  “Not so awful as a bullet,” Mr. Chance retorted absently. Alisa had to agree.

  Gunfire sounded, and the stage master pulled the stage to a stop. The two bandits held pistols upright. A series of shots fired into the air. They ordered the wagon master to throw down his weapons and climb down. Then a gravelly voice called out, “All right. Get out. All of you.”

  Alisa looked to Mr. Chance for instruction. He nodded and opened the stage door. “I’ll go first.” He climbed down, then turned and offered his assistance to Alisa. Next he lifted Davy from the stage, then helped Mrs. Greene.

  “That all of ya?” one of the bandits asked.

  “Yes.” Mr. Chance stood, fists clenched.

  Recognition flashed in the bandit’s dark eyes. “Well, Amos, looky here. This feller jest ain’t very lucky.”

  The other man chuckled. “Didn’t we make yer acquaintance last night? Yep, that’s one nice Colt ya give us.” He patted the sleek neck of the horse he had just dismounted. “And this girl here is one beaut of a horse.”

  The cowboy grinned back, and Alisa frowned. What was he up to?

  “I suppose this surely isn’t my lucky day, but I have to tell you…it’s not yours, either.”

  “How do ya figure that?”

  “Well, considering you forced me to empty my pockets last night, you won’t find anything of value on me. And this young lady didn’t even have…”

  Alisa drew in a breath. Would he humiliate her just to prove the point that if she couldn’t feed herself, she probably couldn’t give them anything of value?

  “A trunk,” he said, completing his observation. Despite her precarious situation, Alisa’s heart swelled with gratitude. Mr. Chance personified all the heroes in her dime books—the stories she hadn’t been allowed to read when she lived at the orphanage. But since becoming Mrs. Worthington’s companion, Alisa read everything she could get her hands on, dime books included.

  He continued goading the thieves. “The other young lady is widowed and traveling to Reliable to live with her brother because she can’t raise her son alone.”

  “I thought you said there was a senator on this here stage, Bart.”

  “Can I help it if that drunk varmint back at the Lucky Hand Saloon lied to me?” The man eyed his partner. “And what have I told you about calling me by my name?”

  “Sorry, Bar…Joe.”

  Alisa stifled a gig
gle behind her hand.

  “All right, gimme whatever ya got,” the one called Bart said. He held out his hat as though passing around the offering plate.

  Scurrying to obey, Mrs. Greene opened her satchel and tossed a wad of money into the hat. Alisa’s eyes widened, and she stared at the woman. “M–my husband was well off. I never said I came west because I was poor. Although, after today, that is certainly going to be my circumstance.”

  “Yee-haw!”

  Alisa jumped as Amos grabbed the hat away from Bart. He stopped in front of Mr. Chance. “Not our lucky day, huh? Well then what do you call this?”

  The cowboy glared but kept his mouth shut. Alisa couldn’t help but be relieved. A man capable of robbery might also be capable of violence if provoked.

  The man came to her. “Well? Whaddaya got, girlie? Or am I gonna have to search ya?”

  Mr. Chance stepped forward. “Keep your filthy hands off her. She has nothing.”

  “I’ll see that fer myself.”

  Alisa showed him her reticule. “A–all that I have is a handkerchief.”

  “That all? Well, maybe I’ll take a kiss instead.”

  Shrinking back in alarm, Alisa felt the blood rushing to her head. She grabbed Mr. Chance’s arm to keep from losing her balance.

  “I thought I told you to leave her alone!” He reached out to grab Amos just as Bart’s gun fired.

  Alisa stared in horror as Mr. Chance slipped from her grasp. He landed with a thud on the ground, blood spilling from a wound in his temple.

  Chapter 3

  Titus slowly came to, pain slicing his temple. Pebbles ground into his back—evidence he was lying on hard ground. His head, however, was pillowed in something soft and elevated off the ground. Gentle fingers pushed back the hair from his forehead and pressed a wet cloth to his temple. He opened his eyes.

  Miss Worthington?

  “Oh, thank You, Lord,” she breathed. “He’s coming around.”

  Was he dreaming? Or was Miss Worthington even prettier from this angle? He started to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sent him back to…Miss Worthington’s lap? If this was a dream, may he never wake up!