A Groom for Linda (The Blizzard Brides Book 4)

by Lynn Donovan

  “My name’s Michael Darcy. I’m a bounty hunter” —Linda’s eyes widened— “and I was hoping to speak to the sheriff about a criminal I have been tracking. But…”

  “But we have no sheriff.” Linda said, trying hard to disguise her grief and her interest in this bounty hunter. She had a thousand questions. Would it be appropriate for her to query this man to obtain fodder for her novel?

  Mr. Darcy nodded. He glanced at Charlie Cairn and back to Linda. “Who might I speak to, then? Who is in charge of keeping track of who arrived for this husband hunt?”

  His words stung. Linda turned her head, absorbing the pain as if he had slapped her cheek. Heather stepped forward, but Linda cut her off. “We women look out for each other. There is no one person ‘in charge’ as you say. We all are aware of who has answered whose letter. What is the name of this criminal you are seeking?”

  Heather pursed her lips and stepped back. Linda was grateful. She felt foolish being so bold to this stranger, especially since her intended stood right here, waiting to speak with her, but a bounty hunter in Last Chance didn’t happen along too often, and what harm would there be for her to simply ask him a few questions about his profession?

  “The man I’m looking for is Robert, also known as Deuce, Taylor.”

  Heather gasped but had the good sense to remain quiet. Mr. Darcy darted his eyes toward her. “You know this Taylor, ma’am?”

  “No!” Heather vehemently shook her head.

  Darcy considered her behavior, then turned to Linda. “Is he expected to arrive, like these gentlemen, to take a bride?”

  “We are not certain who will arrive. Our advert was a very open invitation for husbands. Some men wrote letters, we women replied to a few, but we honestly have no idea until they walk through those doors who will come to marry us.” She glanced at Charlie. He looked pale. Linda smiled at him, attempting to assure him everything was alright.

  But was it? Heather had chosen the letter from Robert Taylor and was expecting him to come marry her. Now, they learned, he was a wanted criminal. How would Ron handle this situation? He’d probably wait until this Mr. Taylor arrived, listen to his side of the story, and then make the decision whether to help him find his new life or turn him over to the bounty hunter. That was what Pricilla would do, also. She nodded to herself.

  “Mr. Darcy, until this Mr. Taylor arrives in Last Chance, we cannot help you.” She turned to her intended and placed her hand at his elbow. Charlie’s color returned to his face, and he smiled at her.

  Darcy turned to Heather, who had faded into the group of women. “Are you the one expecting him?”

  Heather glanced quickly at Linda. “I-I’m not sure. Like Missus Applebee said, we honestly have no idea who will come through that door.”

  Darcy nodded. “Right, but you did receive correspondence from Robert Taylor, am I correct?”

  “I-well…, yes.” Heather couldn’t lie. Linda understood.

  “All right.” Darcy stared at the floor a moment then lifted his eyes to Heather. “I’ll be at the hotel. If you hear from Mr. Taylor, you let me know.”

  Linda felt an odd sensation shoot through her heart. Mr. Darcy had amazing hazel eyes with gold flecks that seemed to reflect a fire inside his soul. They were mesmerizing. She swallowed hard and clung to Charlie’s arm. What was happening to her? “If you will excuse us, Mr. Darcy, we have gentlemen callers to give our attention to.”

  Darcy jerked a nod and backed up to allow the matched couples to promenade out of the church. Linda hoped he’d follow them, the hotel was in the same direction as the diner, where they were to go next. She glanced over her shoulder to see, but he was not coming out. She decided to take the bull by the horns. “Oh, Mister Darcy?”

  He stepped out onto the church’s porch. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The hotel is this way. We would be happy to show you.”

  Darcy hesitated. Then set his hat on his head. He looked down the street. “It’s at the end of this street, is it not.”

  Linda nodded. “Across from the post office, yes, sir. We will be walking a little further to my sister’s diner. If you wish to join us, you’re welcome.” Why did she say that? What was she thinking?

  “No, ma’am. I reckon I need to get some of this road grime off me and see the barber. You do still have a barber?”

  Linda tried to hide her sigh of relief. “Yes, Mister Darcy, our barber is an older gentleman and did not suffer the terrible fate that our younger men experienced. You will find Mister and Missus Martin to be very accommodating, as well, at the hotel.” With that she took a step, and thankfully Charlie did too. He gathered his horse’s reins and walked him and Linda down the middle of the street toward wherever she led. “It’s a bit of a walk, Mister Cairn. But I figure it gives us time to get acquainted.”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes. So, who was that Darcy fellow?”

  Linda rolled her eyes. “Seems to be a bounty hunter. My interest in him is two-fold. One, I want to protect my friend Heather should her Mister Taylor come to call and turn out to be as bad as Mister Darcy let on, and two… I am an author, Mister Cairn. My interest in Mister Darcy is strictly professional. You see, my character is… a lady bounty hunter, so you see why I am interested in asking Mister Darcy a few questions about the authenticity of being a bounty hunter?”

  Charlie’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. “Uh, no, actually, I don’t understand. Whoever heard of a lady bounty hunter?”

  Linda sighed. “Well, never mind. Let’s concentrate on getting to know one another. So… you were a secretary for a law firm, did you enjoy your work?”

  Charlie answered her questions, but she didn’t listen very well to what he said. In truth, she found him boring. They made their way to the diner and sat at a two-top table, as did the other new couples. This was the overall game plan for when the new husbands-to-be arrived. From here, it was up to the ladies as to what the courtship would entail. Just so long as Pastor Collins saw courtships taking place, they were safe from his opinionated wrath.

  

  Charlie presented himself with as much diligence as he would prepare for a case, leaving out less desirable and vulnerable aspects of his life that were private until he felt he could trust her with such knowledge. Divulging positive husband-worthy details in an attempt to impress Linda Applebee was his primary objective at this time. He knew people well enough to know she wasn’t interested… in him or his attributes. He gazed out the windows of the quaint little diner. Just a short walk to the north was a fairly large river. The North Platte, if he wasn’t mistaken. It was known to be teaming with perch, bass, channel catfish, and even walleye. He especially loved walleye. They were a challenge to catch and put up a good fight. “Do you like to fish, Missus Applebee?”

  “Fish? Well, not particularly. Becca is the fisherman in the family. I think she and Calvin chose the land their ranch is on solely because it had three rivers running through it. Becca adores the solitude of fishing. Me, I prefer to be writing. Or reading. Or experiencing something that I want to write about. I’ve never written about a character fishing… maybe I should.”

  He stared at her as she went on and on about how she had no interest in fishing. He could see why she would be a good author. She could spin a yarn that was for sure.

  “Calvin? Did he survive the blizzard?” Charlie hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

  “No, I’m afraid, I and my two sisters are now widows. Our youngest sister, Winnie, died in the initial storm and her husband died with mine on the retrieval quest to find the husbands who perished in the first storm.”

  “Wow. It sounds like the people of this town have been through a lot. The newspapers back east described the blizzard as a freak storm that took a lot of good people. I hadn’t imagined it to be so very devastating, but now that I’m here and I hear what you say about how many are gone, I realize the articles probably didn’t do the devastation near enough justice.”

  Linda gl
ared at Charlie. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. He swallowed. “Shall we order our food? What’s good here?”

  Linda snorted a chuckle. “Beef. Every way imaginable. Tuck has had the opportunity to really use his imagination and fix a variety of different variations of beef.”

  Charlie tilted his head in confusion.

  “You see, when the blizzard killed so many of our men, it also wiped out a large quantity of our livestock. My husband and several others were quick to go out and gather the carcasses. Heather’s husband was the town butcher— he died, of course, in the first storm— she helped cut up the meat and we used her smokehouse to preserve most of it. Tuck is the cook here. He is retired from Becca’s ranch’s chuckwagon and a negro regiment during the War. He’s really talented in the kitchen. My sister, Hollie, is lucky to have him.”

  Charlie glanced at the dark man weaving on the other side of the pass-through window. “Is that him, back there?”

  Linda didn’t even turn to look. “Yes. Does it bother you to have a negro cook your food?”

  Charlie’s eyes slid back to Linda’s. “No. Not at all. If he’s as good as you say, who cares what the color of his skin is?”

  “That’s good to know, Mister Cairn.” She smiled for the first time. She had a nice smile. “Charlie, please, Missus Applebee.”

  Her smile wavered. “Yes, of course. And you should call me Linda… I suppose.”

  “Linda. It’s a lovely name.”

  “Thank you.” She looked uncomfortable for the first time, also. Charlie considered her for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t the ramrod of steel that he had first encountered. She had some vulnerabilities. And yet, he didn’t feel any sort of spark that he had been told he would feel if she was the right gal for him. He’d heard about arranged marriages and how two people learn to love each other. He had thought that sounded very sad. But here he was, embarking on a loveless marriage.

  Suddenly, Linda leapt to her feet. She was looking out the windows and glancing back at Charlie. “Um, could you excuse me for just a minute?” She dashed out of the diner. He looked around at the eyes staring at him with pity, or empathy. He just smiled and shrugged. “She needed to take care of a matter.”

  It was embarrassing and he didn’t appreciate her leaving him alone in this manner. He waved the young girl down. “Could I order?”

  “Of course.” She pulled out a small note pad and took a pencil from behind her ear.

  “What’s today’s special?” Charlie knew every good diner had a special.

  “Chipped beef on rye, mashed potatoes, cream or brown gravy.” The girl replied without hesitation.

  “I’ll take that, with brown gravy, please.” He glanced at the window where he could just see Missus Applebee speaking to that bounty hunter. “Make it two, uh…” He leaned closer to the waitress. “Do you suppose Missus Applebee would prefer cream or brown?”

  The girl smiled sweetly. “She is fond of either.”

  “Well, then, give us both brown gravy,” he said with resoluteness.

  “Good choice.” The girl smiled and scurried to the window to give the cook his order. The man peeked through the window and grinned at him. A gold tooth reflected the light. He jerked a nod and went to work. Had Charlie’s ordering brown rather than cream gravy given away his origins? Out east, hardly anyone ever heard of cream gravy. Charlie smiled and lowered his eyes to his folded hands. How long would she be? Should he have waited to order for her? He looked out the diner windows to see his intended still speaking with that bounty hunter. He knew people. It was what made him good as a secretary for the law firm. His attorneys took him into court with them so he could inform them if a witness was lying or telling the truth.

  Linda was intrigued with this Mr. Darcy. She merely tolerated Charlie. What a miserable marriage this was going to be. The girl set two plates on the table. They were brimming with food, gravy spilling over the edges. Charlie glanced up to the cook, who was watching through his window for a reaction. He smiled and tipped his head back as a thank you.

  The cook jerked a nod and grinned. At least Charlie had made one person happy today.

  Chapter Seven

  “Mister Darcy?” Linda trotted toward the bounty hunter. “May I have a word?”

  He stopped, turned toward her with a frown. “I was just heading over to the barber, Missus Applebee. Mister Martin said it was around this corner and down this block about halfway.”

  “Yes, it is. Uh, I was just wondering if I could schedule some time… to speak with you?”

  “Speak to me? Whatever for?”

  “Strictly professional, I assure you, Mister Darcy. I’d like to ask you some questions… you see I’m an author… and I need authentic anecdotes for my story.” She didn’t dare tell him her character was a lady bounty hunter. That piece of information had never been met with acceptance.

  His brow furrowed. He glared at her as if to examine the legitimacy of her request. “I… suppose… until Mister Taylor comes to town, I have time to accommodate your inquiry.”

  “Very well. Shall we meet…” She looked around the street. What would be appropriate. The diner would be good, even though people would be able to eavesdrop on her conversation, then again, for the people to hear her ask Mr. Darcy questions about being a bounty hunter would, hopefully, curtail any trumped up gossip that she was courting two men. Such assumptions were as quick to start as a grass fire from lightning. “How about over supper, at the diner?” She pointed back at her sister’s place of business.

  He lifted his eyes to the establishment. “All right. Seven?”

  “That will be fine.” Linda nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “You probably should get back to your intended, Missus Applebee.”

  She glanced at the diner. “Yes. I-I just wanted to catch you while I could and schedule this appointment for an interview.”

  “Of course.” He grinned.

  His smile festered anger in her gut. Why? He was just being polite. Or was he? What was it about this bounty hunter that drew her to him and yet repelled her at the same time? “Tonight at seven.”

  “Yes. So long as my prey doesn’t arrive, I’ll be there.”

  “How will I know? I mean, I do not wish to be sitting in the diner waiting on you only to have you not show up. That would be… embarrassing… and rude.”

  He jerked a nod. “All right. Should I find Mister Taylor and not be able to attend your interview, I will find someone, a child perhaps, to deliver a message to you, so you will know.”

  “That sounds fair.” She replied, but the thought of him standing her up at the diner made her stomach uneasy. She turned and marched back to the diner. Charlie had ordered for both of them. Her plate was waiting for her as he stood when she entered the diner. She returned to her seat. “I’m sorry. I had to… I had a matter to discuss with Mister Darcy. I apologize for leaving you alone. Thank you for ordering. This looks good.”

  Charlie smiled as he sat. “I hope you like brown gravy.”

  She looked at him with confusion. “Yes. I do, actually. Especially Tuck’s brown gravy.”

  “Good.” Charlie returned his attention to his half-eaten meal.

  Linda looked at the food. Her stomach felt sour. Maybe she did need to eat. She lifted her knife and fork and began carving small bites. Tuck had made another ordinary dish into something extraordinary. “Hmmmm.” Linda moaned without thinking. “This is really good.”

  “I agree.” Charlie smiled at her. “Looks like we have one thing in common, after all.”

  Guilt swamped Linda’s heart. She needed to give Charlie a chance. It wasn’t his fault she was desperate to find a new husband, nor was it his fault she had chosen him by complete chance. He seemed like a nice man. She simply had no interest in him as a husband. That was the part that was not fair to the man. But what else could she do?

  Cleaning her plate, she sat back. “I guess I was hungrier than I realized.”


  “I’m happy to see you enjoyed your meal.” Charlie reached into his pants pocket and pulled out some coins.

  Linda cleared her throat. “I have some things I need to do, and I have an appointment this evening for supper. Would you mind if we didn’t make any plans until tomorrow?”

  “You’re seeing that bounty hunter for supper?” Charlie’s one brow pushed down toward his nose, the other went high on his forehead. How’d he do that?

  “Well, yes. I have scheduled an interview with him. I hope you don’t mind.” Why did she say that? She didn’t care if he minded or not. She needed to take advantage of a real live bounty hunter in town and this was probably her only chance to discuss the nuances of being a bounty hunter with… well, with a bounty hunter. She couldn’t pass this opportunity up.

  “I suppose we could make plans to take a buggy into the country.” Charlie laid the coins on the table. “We could have a picnic, if you wish, tomorrow. If this warmer weather holds out. I should get settled into the hotel and clean up.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow, say eleven?” Linda walked toward the entrance.

  “Alright. Eleven it is. I’ll walk my horse back to the livery and secure a buggy for tomorrow.”

  She pursed a smile. “Becca will be able to arrange it for you.” Her heart pounded at the thought of having supper with Mr. Darcy, but she only felt a sense of, I need to remember this, with Charlie. How odd. “Would you like to walk me home?”

  “Of course.” Charlie put out his arm to Linda. She put her hand in the bend of his elbow and walked beside him on to the boardwalk. “Which way?”

  Linda snorted a chuckle and pointed across the street.

  “You live next door to the livery?”

  “Yep. Between the livery and the butcher. A very aromatic location, I must admit, but it’s home.”

  Charlie nodded and walked her to her door. “I’ll be here tomorrow at eleven. Are there any particulars you would like to take on our picnic?”