“I’m all the excuse you’ll need, McCready.”
“You, madam, are a fraud.”
“Set me down easy like and get this auction going. It’s long past my bedtime as it is.”
“We’re just waiting for the prize of the night to show up,” he answered, helping Miss Mae to lower herself into the chair. “Is this comfortable for you? I’ll get—”
He never finished and never heard what she answered. The murmurs that quickly grew louder and the crush at the doorway told him that Maggie was here.
McCready straightened to his full height very slowly. He believed he had been ready for this moment since he understood that Maggie was really going to go through with this. But somewhere between the crowd parting and his first sight of her, his heart forgot to beat. Gone were the muddy boots—her steps were taken in high-buttoned pointy-toed ladies’ shoes. He had prayed she would want to be his Maggie and wear baggy pants, a too big shirt, and a jacket to hide the body only he knew intimately. But Maggie’s body was graced by a full calico skirt that might conceal a petticoat, but his gaze gave way to the lush fullness of her breasts. Too much of her breasts, for his peace of mind. But the worst offense to his sight were the freckles that the too-low bodice revealed.
Miss Mae tapped his arm. “Can’t see her. You’re blocking my view.”
He stepped aside, but fury grew that no one else’s view was blocked. Why the hell was Maggie carrying the shawl? It should be draped, wrapped, and tied around her! And where did that practiced smile come from? She had never smiled at him like that. Where was his Maggie? She would never flutter her hand about, lightly touching one man’s arm, another’s shoulder. Softly laughing at something Mike whispered to her. Arching her brow with a pout on her lips when Samuel demanded her attention.
She was flirting! Drawing men around her like flies, and those damn mines had nothing to do with it. He started forward, but Miss Mae’s clawlike hand grabbed his. “Leave her be. The gal’s getting her courting, McCready. Unless you want to join them? Bet you’d give those bucks a run for their money. But you don’t want her, right?”
The sparkle in her eyes should have warned him, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. “You’re quite right, Miss Mae. And I thank you for stopping me before I made a fool of myself. If you will excuse me, I’ll get Dutch to begin.”
But Dutch had already come out from behind the bar and was clearing space before it. Those that had bought seats took them, and the rest had to stand behind them. “Quite a turnout, boss.”
“Yeah. Well, get it going. The sooner this is over with, the better I’ll feel.”
“I’m betting on it. Folks!” he yelled. “We’re ready to start. Now, I’m taking bids on the supplies from the Burton store.”
Maggie stood at the end of the bar nearest the door with Pamela on one side and Lars on the other. Pamela had been right about just smiling at this one and pouting at the other being the way to flirt with men. But the one man she wanted to try her new wiles on hadn’t come anywhere near her. She knew he saw her. The moment she walked into the Rawhider, she searched out McCready. The wee ones were kicking up their heels at the sight of him. She knew McCready was as handsome as sin and twice as bad, and the unrelieved black he wore only added to her belief. She closed out the sound of Dutch’s voice and calls as bids were raised for the mercantile’s goods. In a few minutes she would be standing up on the bar, parading back and forth while men made offers. Mike had assured her that he would put up his ranch and take his “little gal” home where she belonged. As for Samuel, she didn’t like the idea of how charming she would be gracing his arm as his wife.
“Two thousand!” Dutch called out. “That’s the last bid. Going once, twice, and sold to Joseph Applebee.” Dutch directed the storekeeper from Silver City to Pamela and he watched the man counting out the money to her. He listened to the restless mutterings and knew he couldn’t wait any longer. “Maggie? You ready?”
Nervous, Maggie rubbed her palms down the side of her gown. Finally she nodded and let Dutch lift her up in his arms so she could stand up on the bar. The whistles and catcalls surprised her, and she was grateful for the squeeze Dutch gave her hand before he released her.
“I’m right down here, and they’ll have to go through me to get to you. I won’t let that happen, Maggie.” He turned and held his hands high for quiet. “Now, settle down. It goes without my saying that Miss Mary Margaret O’Roarke is a fine-looking woman. She’s…” Dutch’s voice was drowned out by the rowdy shouts of agreement. He gave them a few minutes more, then roared an order for quiet. From the corner of his eye he watched McCready, but the man had eyes for no one but Maggie.
Dutch began again. “Most of you men know me or of me. I’m vouching for Maggie’s claim to the worth of the mines. Now I’ll take an opening bid.”
“Five hundred!”
“Two thousand,” Mike Grant offered, having decided that no one was outbidding him.
“Three,” Samuel said, unwilling to be outdone.
“Smile at them, Maggie,” Pamela whispered as Maggie came to her end of the bar.
But Maggie was finding that being the center of attention wasn’t pleasant. There was heat in the stares as the bidding climbed quickly. Strangers forced Mike and Samuel into offering serious money. She tried to block out the voices and the crude suggestions that came with them but saw that Ira and Slick were working their way through the standing crowd of men doing a little hushing of their own.
“The last bid was Taylor’s at thirty-thousand,” Dutch announced. “Where’s the men in this crowd? You gonna let a fine gal like Maggie—”
“Thirty-five!” Mike shouted.
“Thirty-eight,” Samuel shot back.
“Forty,” came another voice, and both men craned their necks to see a gray-haired man lowering his hand.
“Who is he?” Mike asked Samuel.
“Lawyer. From Silver City. Came up with Applebee.”
“Forty-five,” Mike bid.
“Fifty,” Samuel said almost before he was finished.
Maggie smiled at them, but the one voice she longed to hear was not making a sound. She looked at McCready as she walked the length of the bar and found his dark blue eyes were filled with storm warnings. Maggie never knew what made her do it, but she gave him an airy wave and turned her back.
“Cheeky little gal, McCready,” Miss Mae said, cackling at the murderous look he shot her.
McCready wasn’t surprised that the bidding was climbing by ten-thousand-dollar increments. Maggie was sashaying over the top of the bar. If she wiggled her hips any more, she’d be a harem dancer for them. He wanted to haul her out of there. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She asked for this and she was going to see it through to the bitter end.
He pinned his gaze on two men in the second row of chairs, who sat with their heads together. They were tinhorns. No question in his mind at all, and he didn’t like the way they were looking at Maggie. He had seen tinhorns who used women as shills when they gambled for high stakes, sure that the right kind of woman would distract a man from serious play while they dealt off the bottom or palmed a new hand of cards from a sleeve. When they combined their bid to top the one hundred thousand that Mike had just offered, McCready knew they were trouble.
“I’ll put up my ranch. It’s worth twice as much.”
“Says who?” one gambler yelled back.
“Says me.” Mike was up and around his chair too fast for anyone to stop him. “You feel lucky enough to step outside and repeat that?”
Dutch had to go settle it. “Listen, Mike, it’s a fair enough question.”
“Maybe. I’ll allow it. But they can’t combine their bids.”
“I’ve never said different. I’ve got to accept it. Now, sit down and we’ll get on with this.”
“Dutch, if you question the worth of his ranch, then I can’t bid my foundry, right?” Samuel asked.
&nb
sp; “Cash bids is all I’m taking. And from what I see these two waving around, it sure looks like a hundred thousand or more.”
Maggie almost fell off the bar. Pamela’s gasp made her want to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Dutch bought McCready all the time he could. He drank a glass of water that Lee handed him. Went over the last few bids until mutters began, then grew louder, demanding that he get on with it.
“Now, we’re all agreed that the last bid was one hundred and two thousand dollars? Right?”
“Hurry it up, Dutch. I’m so parched back here you got me thinkin’ I’ve been eatin’ cotton.”
Dutch laughed with the rest of the miners, most of whom had dropped out of bidding on Maggie when they saw how high it was going. But Dutch had caught more than a few sneaking looks at McCready wondering, as they all likely were, why he wasn’t bidding. Every man there saw the way Maggie watched him. But he couldn’t wait any longer.
“The bid’s going once, going twice—”
“I’ll make it one hundred and five, but I want to see some proof of the mine claims,” the lawyer said.
Maggie expected this and took the ore sample from Pamela. She held it high for all to see. “This is from the gold mine. Should assay out to five maybe six hundred dollars.”
“But I know nothing about raw gold,” the man returned.
Maggie tossed the sample toward him and waited until he caught it. “Ask any miner here if I ain’t tellin’ the truth.”
It took a few minutes and only three men confirming what she said before the man nodded to Dutch to let his bid stand.
Mike turned to Samuel. “Look, I want Maggie for my wife. Drop out of the bidding, and I’ll give you half of the mines after we’re married again.”
“I could ask you to do the same. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t come up with enough cash money to top his bid.”
Miss Mae was disturbed to see the two of them whispering. “You gonna let her go to some stuffy lawyer that’ll lock her away and change her into something dead, McCready?”
“This is of Maggie’s making, not mine, Miss Mae.”
“She needs a man that understands her. One who’ll let her be Maggie. A man, McCready, who ain’t afraid of a strong woman. One who won’t be pettin’ her like that rancher and think she’s soft.”
“I am not bidding on her.”
“You’re not?” The fury in his eyes was more than enough of an answer. “Hold my parasol,” she demanded.
McCready, with an exasperated sigh, lifted his hand to take hold of it just as Dutch repeated the last bid. Miss Mae waited until McCready gripped the handle before she shoved his arm high.
“McCready bids one hundred and ten thousand!” Miss Mae yelled out, then waved to Maggie.
“I never—”
“One hundred and ten from McCready!” Dutch roared so that he drowned out McCready’s protests.
Maggie climbed down from the bar, running to him. “Oh, McCready, you do love me!” she cried out, flinging her arms around his neck, stopping his denial with her lips for a few seconds, then pulled back. “There’s no child.”
He held her gaze steady with his. “Let the bid stand.”
The parasol slipped from his fingers. His arms closed around her waist, and he took every bit of giving softness that her mouth offered to him.
Samuel glared at Dutch. “The bidding isn’t over yet.”
“Top his, then,” Dutch returned, only to have Samuel do just that.
Miss Mae frantically tugged on McCready’s sleeve, but he was lost in Maggie’s kiss. “I’ll be his agent,” she announced and promptly entered the bidding. “One hundred and twenty-five thousand.”
McCready half heard what Miss Mae was doing, but he didn’t stop her. Maggie was whispering against his lips that she loved him, only him, and every word was balm to his wound. He had never had a woman’s love completely his. And he didn’t care what anyone bid, he was offering Maggie his love and his heart in return with every deepening kiss they shared.
“Two hundred thousand!” Dutch shouted, grinning. “Going once, twice—and sold to McCready! That’s it, boys. Drinks are on the house.”
“Did you hear that, Maggie mine, you really are mine,” he murmured against the corner of her smiling mouth. He swept her up into his arms to stop her from being crushed by the men that surrounded them, and found himself facing Maggie’s two husbands. “She’s been mine from the start no matter who Pete tried to marry her off to,” McCready said, then smiled when Maggie rested her head on his shoulder.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Mike said. “In fact, you did. You weren’t even bidding on her.”
“But I would have.”
“You would’ve?” Maggie demanded to know, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“Bet on it, Maggie mine. I said I always win. Besides, we have a partnership, right? Share everything, equal and together.”
“But you stated that you wouldn’t be bidding,” Samuel added.
McCready grinned, then looked at Maggie. “I lied.”
“Ah, McCready, you’re a silver-tongued devil an’ no mistake about it. But you’ll be marryin’ me to make an honest lady of me?”
“I’ll marry you. I’ll even make a lady out of you, if that’s what you want. But a Maggie mine kind of lady. One who is honest, and warm as sunshine filling all the empty places inside me. A golden lady, dripping diamonds and draped in silks, satins, or calico, even mud, but still my sassy-mouthed Maggie. I’ll tell you why you need seven forks to eat your dinner and why it’s impolite to fall asleep at the opera. I’ll share all there is if you share the world with me.”
“McCready.” She blinked back tears. “I don’t cry. But I’ve an Irish temper.”
“I’m arrogant.”
“I’m mule-headed.”
“Me, too. But I love you, Maggie.”
“An’ I love you, C. V. McCready.” She kissed him with all that love in her heart, knowing he wouldn’t try to change her, just as she wanted him as he was.
Poking at the men’s legs with her parasol, Miss Mae ordered, “Get back, the lot of you. Can’t you see they want privacy?”
McCready turned his back, holding Maggie tight, and swept the sweet taste of her inside himself. The churning in his gut subsided with every moment that the kiss lasted, and when it ended, he had his Maggie’s smile and glowing green eyes.
“I’ll be sayin’ it again. I love you, McCready. I love fightin’ with you an’ kissin’ you. But if you’re marryin’ me,” she asked, shyly lowering her lashes, “could you be thinkin’ to tell me what C.V. is for?”
“Later, Maggie.”
“We’re sharin’, remember?”
He angled his head down, giving her his trust, and pressed his lips against her ear. “My name, Mary Margaret, is Clarence Valentine.”
Maggie jerked her head away. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. “Clarence?” she repeated very softly. “Clarence Valentine?” She tried to stop her smile, she tried to swallow the laughter, but the challenge in his eyes seemed to encourage it forth.
“Maggie!” he warned. “I’ll take you over my knee—”
“Don’t you wish, boyo.”
“Stop giggling. I’ve had to—”
“Clarence?” she repeated once more, lifting her hand to her mouth to stifle the laughter.
McCready knew how to stop her. He nudged aside her hand and sealed her mouth with his. And when he finally felt the tremors that racked her body along with his own, he slowly lifted his head.
“Tell me, Maggie mine, are the wee ones awake?”
“Ah, McCready,” she said in a dreamy voice, “they’re set to dance at a grand Irish weddin’.”
“And you’ll promise to forget about my first name? No more teasing? No more laughing?”
“You’re a silver-tongued devil, like I’ve said, but I love you.” Maggie lowered her lashes once m
ore and solemnly nodded. “I promise, McCready.” Until after the wedding, she silently amended.
“That’s good, real good, Maggie, ’cause I lied. It’s Calvert Vance.”
“McCready!”
“Claude Verne? How about Chandler Virgil?”
“Ah, ’tis a grand marriage we’ll be havin’, ’cause I lied, too,” she whispered, drawing his mouth to hers. “You’re not fool’s gold, McCready. ’Tis the luck of the Irish I’ll be havin’ with you an’ your love.”
He let her have the last word this time. How could he argue with a woman who promised him everything that mattered with her kiss?
It was going to be a grand marriage. Maggie, Satan, and him. And when the little darlings came, the good Lord help them all.
More from Raine Cantrell
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In the aftermath of the Civil War, one man’s vow to stand alone is shaken by the return of the love of his life. A new novel from national bestselling romance author Raine Cantrell.
For most Texans, Reconstruction stood as a second declaration of war. Returning to his Texas farm at the end of the War Between the States, Matt Coltrane finds his land ravaged by scavengers as part of a greedy Reconstruction land grab. Turned bitter by the war, Matt attempts to avoid others, until Laine Ellis, the only woman he ever loved, is threatened. Despite the odds against him, Matt swears to protect her, as well as his land.
Born to be a Southern lady, Laine Ellis grew up in a lonely cabin on the edge of the bayou. Stubborn and courageous, she is raising her brother and sister after raiders killed her parents and destroyed her home. Laine doesn’t entertain any man’s attention, until Matt’s return. She loved him with a girl’s starry-eyed innocence and now wants him with a woman’s passion. She and Matt struggle in the face of old enemies and new challenges to bring their dreams to life as an entire country strives to put itself back together.
Wildflower
In the idyllic mountains of Colorado, a woman will risk her life to save the ones she loves.
For two years Jenny Latham has lived alone with her young son in the Colorado mountains, trying to manage her guilt over letting an abusive husband control her for too long. Her beauty makes her the object of many men’s desires, but with a broken heart and an independent streak as strong as the mountains themselves, Jenny refuses them all. But when she accidentally shoots a stranger and takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, she finds all of her defenses wavering.
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