Outlaw Marriage

by Laurie Paige

  The wind’s chill fingers roamed down her neck, inciting goose bumps. She hurried to her car and drove to the modern condo that had never felt like a home. But then, neither had the mansion her father had built on a bluff overlooking the town.

  Collin was on hand to welcome Hope when she arrived at the sprawling Kincaid ranch on Saturday morning. Since they wouldn’t have had much time for exploring after work on Friday, she had decided to drive out on Saturday. Collin had made it plain he was disappointed. She tried not to let that fact influence her when she parked at an old horse rail in front of the ranch-style house and got out of the car.

  “Good morning. You’re right on time,” he said. “Come on, we’re going to the arena.”

  Without further ado, he led the way across the dirt-and-gravel parking area in the center of the elegant Kincaid spread, past several barns, stables and outbuildings, toward a huge metal building that she soon realized was the arena.

  Inside, a man and a woman were mounted on two horses with striking dark brown and white markings. The couple, who were close to her and Collin in age, were putting their mounts through several exercises.

  “A training session,” Collin murmured.

  His breath fanned the tendrils at her temples as he leaned close. A shiver danced over her left arm.

  “Their horses, are they Indian paints?”

  “Appaloosa. See the distinctive rump markings? That’s what sets them off from paints. The Appaloosa was developed by the Nez Pierce independently of other Plains horses.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said sincerely, fascinated as the man and woman expertly moved the horses around the huge showring, backing, pivoting, bowing with one hoof daintily in front of the other.

  “That’s Cade Redstone, one of my half brothers, and his wife Leanne. Leanne’s brother, Rand Harding, is the foreman here. Wayne Kincaid manages the place.”

  She nodded. She knew the names of all the Kincaids associated with the ranch, both the Jeremiah branch and the Garrett branch. Jeremiah’s legal son, Wayne, and his illegitimate son, Clint Calloway, had refused a share in the inheritance that had then fallen to their half sister, Jenny McCallum. Along with Jenny’s adoptive father, Sterling McCallum, the half brothers acted as trustees for the seven-year-old.

  Then there were the six illegitimate sons of Larry Kincaid, Collin’s father, who stood to inherit the land if Garrett’s plans went through.

  So much family. Envy rose in her, but she ignored it. She had everything she needed—a career that truly interested her, a two-bedroom condo, friends…

  “These are being trained as parade horses,” Collin told her, “for the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus.”

  “My father took me to one of their shows at Madison Square Garden one year. I was six. It was the most exciting day of my life.” She stopped as her throat closed and memory crowded in.

  “What?” Collin questioned, as if sensing the sudden emotion in her.

  “Father took the whole day off from work. He got front-row seats for us and three of my schoolfriends. It was my birthday,” she explained.

  A clown had given her a bouquet of paper flowers while the emcee had announced her birthday. The crowd had clapped and cheered for her. She had been so excited.

  It seemed so long ago, almost as if it had happened to another person. That child had been so full of expectations that day. She’d thought life couldn’t possibly be more perfect. Her father. Her three best friends. The nice clown. How little it had taken to make that child glow.

  “Let’s get you settled, then you can change. I have a nice calm gelding picked out for you to—”

  “Gelding? As for riding?” she interrupted.

  “Yes.” He gave her a studied glance. “How else did you think we were going to explore the ranch?”

  “By truck. I didn’t bring any riding clothes.”

  He surveyed her khaki slacks and white blouse. He frowned when he came to her sandals. “You need boots, is all. Leanne or Gina can fix you up. Come on.”

  Taking her elbow, he returned to her car, retrieved her overnight case and escorted her into the cool interior of the ranch house. He placed her bag in a room, indicated that his room was right across the hall in case she needed him, then led the way to the kitchen.

  “Gina,” he said to a woman stirring a pot, “do you think you can fit Hope with some boots? Sneakers would be okay if we can’t find boots that fit.”

  She laid the spoon aside and smiled at Hope. “I’m Gina Remmington, Trent’s wife. You must be Hope Baxter. Welcome to chaotic acres where life changes before your very eyes.”

  “Very funny,” Collin quipped, albeit with a broad grin for his sister-in-law. “Can you help us out?”

  “Sure. Come with me,” she invited Hope, and led the way to another bedroom. “Is this your first visit to the ranch?”

  “Yes. I really don’t want to put you out—”

  “It’s no bother.” She eyed Hope. “We’re close to the same size, or the size I was before my son was born,” she added ruefully, opening a drawer in a bureau. “Here’s some jeans. And a chambray shirt. It would be a shame to ruin that blouse. It looks expensive.”

  Hope glanced at the white silk shirt with its elaborate cut-work pattern along the front. It was another birthday gift from her father. Picked out by his secretary.

  Dismissing the cynical thought, she tried on jeans and boots, which were too snug, then a pair of old, comfortable sneakers. She put on the work shirt.

  Gina stuck a white straw cowboy hat on Hope’s head. “Perfect,” she said.

  Hope stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked so different she hardly recognized herself. She laughed. “I look like a ranch gal.”

  Gina grinned and nodded. “Let’s see if Collin will approve the transformation.” She led the way along the hall. They heard voices in the living room and detoured there. “Tah-dah,” she said, turning to present Hope.

  Heat suffused Hope’s cheeks as Collin, Garrett and another of the Kincaid brothers turned three pairs of identical blue eyes on her. She paused at the doorway.

  “Miss Baxter,” Garrett said warmly. “We’re delighted that you could join us for the weekend.”

  “Please, call me Hope.” She shook hands with him.

  “This is another of my grandsons. Have you met Brandon?” The older man introduced them. “You and Brandon’s wife, Emma, must be cousins.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen her…when she was at the Hip Hop, and then later at the…”

  She didn’t want to bring up the arrest and preliminary hearing in which Emma had been accused of murdering some poor young woman who’d turned out to be the mayor’s daughter.

  There was a tangled web if ever there was one, Hope mused sympathetically, reflecting on all she’d heard about Lexine and Emma. Emma’s own mother, Lexine Baxter, had intimated Emma might be guilty. It must be worse to have a mother like that than to have none at all.

  “At the hearing,” Brandon finished the sentence for her. He smiled grimly and held out a hand. “Glad to meet you.”

  Guilt speared through Hope. Would he be glad if he knew she was there to hopefully get information to oust him and his kin from the Baxter part of the Kincaid ranch?

  “Hope and Collin are working out an agreement on the lawsuit,” Garrett said, bringing the facts into the open and easing her discomfort.

  Brandon’s eyes were cool and assessing. He wasn’t as outgoing as Collin. He was a man who played his cards close to his chest, as the Western saying went. “Good,” was all he said, but she could detect wariness in him.

  She lifted her chin. She wasn’t there under false pretenses. She did want to settle the suit in a fair and equitable manner. If she learned anything her father could use, that was fair, too. He was the injured party.

  Collin stepped close. “Ready to go?” He turned to his grandfather. “I thought we’d ride up the ridge to the old mining road and over to the land
Wayne and Carey own.”

  “Good idea,” Garrett approved. “It’s a far piece. Will you be back for dinner?”

  “No. I thought we’d take a picnic, then head back here in time for supper.”

  Hope had learned that on a ranch “dinner” was lunch and “supper” was dinner when she’d moved here fresh out of law school six years ago to join her father’s firm. The town residents used lunch and dinner for the noon and evening meals, though. It had taken her a while to figure out she had to interpret words in the context of the person speaking.

  When Collin finished talking to his grandfather about a couple of problems at the Elk Springs ranch, he and she headed outside. Two horses were already saddled in a corral next to a weathered stable.

  “You have ridden before, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes. I had riding lessons as a child.”

  “Figured you had. One of those fancy riding academies with the English saddles and the hopping up and down when the horse trots?”

  “Posting. Yes.”

  “Yeah, posting.”

  His expression was innocent, but she detected a gleam in his eye. She realized he was teasing her, as if he knew her riding had been confined to gentle trails along marked paths. Her heart beat fast as she swung up onto the gelding before he could offer to help. Looking over the rolling pastures in the valley and beyond to the sharp hills that skirted the mountains, she wondered where this trail would lead.

  “This is beautiful.”

  Collin agreed. But he was watching his guest as she gazed at the vast valley with its lush, irrigated fields dotted with prime beef cattle and the golden acres where hay had been grown for winter forage.

  She faced him. “Is your Elk Springs ranch like this?”

  “Pretty much. It lies in a long narrow valley where three rivers come together and eventually flow into the Columbia River.”

  “And then into the Pacific,” she murmured, gazing at the mountains to the west as if she could see beyond those lofty peaks to where the mighty Columbia descended into the ocean.

  He had a fleeting impression of some deep longing hidden within her that was fighting to reach the surface. He sensed contradictions in this slender woman with her New York accent and breeding, her keen analytical mind, her unexpected tenderness.

  The latter was a facet he’d seen only briefly when she’d held her friend’s child. He wondered what it would be like to be the recipient of a thousand sweet kisses from her.

  He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle as his jeans became too snug. His body reacted to the sight, sound, even the thought of her, but he would do better to remember that she was the enemy. She would use anything she could find to win the lawsuit for her father.

  Damn, but he was tired of the whole messy situation.

  “Be warned,” he told her, being perfectly open, “I’ll protect my grandfather in any way I can.”

  She blinked and turned from the view. Her expression didn’t change as she studied him. “I know that,” she finally said. “I’ll do the same for my father.”

  He liked the raw honesty of her words. He liked the loyalty. He liked too damned much about her.

  “Come on,” he said, urging his mount forward. “We’re now on the original Baxter land. This ridge is the dividing line. We’ll ride up to the cabin Wayne and Carey own. It used to be a line shack for ranch hands to use overnight while out riding fences or during roundup. Wayne has added a couple of bedrooms and a modern bathroom. They stay out here most of the summer, then move back to town before winter sets in.”

  “She’s a pediatrician, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, one of the best in the state. She did a bone marrow transplant from Wayne to Jenny McCallum when Jenny developed leukemia. It saved the girl’s life.”

  “I see.”

  Collin stopped the gelding he rode and studied her. She had that vulnerable look again. “What’s bothering you?”

  She looked startled. “Nothing,” she denied, then added on a softer note, “Jenny was lucky to have a brother, one who cared.”

  Collin sensed her loneliness and wondered about her life as the motherless child of a rich, busy man in a big, impersonal city. It was something to think about. He remained silent for the rest of the short trip to the cabin.

  Carey and Wayne were there, working to clear pine and fir trees that had started to invade the clearing around the place.

  “Hi,” their daughter Sophie called. She held her baby brother’s hand.

  Collin introduced Hope to Carey, Wayne, Sophie and Wayne Junior. He saw her blue-gray eyes linger on the boy, a toddler somewhat older than her friend’s child.

  “Hop down and visit for a while,” Carey invited. “We need a break. We have fresh cinnamon rolls.”

  “I helped make them,” Sophie informed them. “Come on, bubba. Let’s eat.”

  “Eat,” the wiry youngster repeated, his blue eyes lighting up. He made a beeline for the cabin.

  “His favorite word,” Wayne said with a chuckle, coming forward to take the reins and lead the horses to a shady spot where they fell to munching grass around the base of a big Western red cedar.

  Carey brought a platter of rolls to the porch, along with napkins and mugs of coffee. “Come sit a spell,” she called to them.

  They arranged themselves on the porch, legs dangling over the edge, while they ate the delicious treat.

  Hope complimented Sophie and her mother on their cooking skills. “I’m just learning,” she confessed. “I was at boarding school most of the time while growing up and never got a chance to cook. I’ve mastered spaghetti sauce so far and I can grill hamburgers.”

  “Mom lets me cook all the time,” Sophie confided.

  “Maybe you’ll be a famous chef like Julia Child.”

  Sophie considered this, then shook her head. “I’m going to be an astronaut and fly all over like Princess Leia and save people from the bad guys who went over to the Dark Side the way Darth Vader did.”

  Hope was suitably impressed and agreed that sounded like an ideal career for a modern woman. Collin was impressed as Hope expertly discussed the Star Wars characters with the youngster.

  Another facet of her conflicting images, one who loved romantic space fiction, he mused. What other layers were hidden beneath her professional exterior?

  The hot stirring in his blood urged him to try to find out. The attraction between them was strong, and not only on his side. Each time their eyes met, awareness leaped between them. He grimly beat the hunger into submission.

  “What’s happening at the hospital?” he asked Carey when Sophie dashed inside to get her latest Star Wars action figure to show Hope.

  “Nothing good. Gavin has been put on leave pending the trial for Christina’s murder.” Carey looked grim. “Gavin is dedicated to healing. I can’t believe he would hurt anyone.”

  Gavin Nighthawk, Collin knew, had recently been arrested for the murder of Christina Montgomery, daughter of the mayor of Whitehorn. It was an ugly scandal. Just before her death, Christina had given birth to a child. The baby girl had anonymously been left with her aunt. Rumor had it that Gavin, now out on bail, had killed his lover—Christina—to stop her from telling everyone he was the father. Most of the town had already tried and convicted him. Collin was sympathetic to the young doctor.

  He glanced at Hope, a warning pinging along his nerves. A man could easily get in over his head when it came to dealing with a woman. He’d better remember that.

  Hope kicked her foot free of the stirrup and gratefully slid from her mount. She stifled a groan and glanced around. After leaving Carey and Wayne and the children, she and Collin had ridden up a rough trail into the mining country of the old Baxter ranch.

  The land, pitted with diggings, was dangerous because of the loose tailings that had been dumped by the careless miners of the last century. Some prospectors still roamed the area, she’d heard, in search of a lost sapphire mine.

  The remains of a mini
ng camp were evident in some one-room log structures, most without roofs. She explored while Collin loosened the saddles and set the horses to grazing near a tiny creek. Both geldings drank thirstily.

  She was ready for lunch. It was almost one, a good three hours since they had eaten the cinnamon rolls with Wayne and his family. She smiled, recalling Sophie’s ambition to be a space adventurer and the girl’s mother-hen bossiness toward her brother. Sophie took to the role of big sister with aplomb.

  They were a nice family, Hope reflected. They had made her feel welcome.

  Because of him, she added, watching as Collin laid out sandwiches and containers of spring water on a handy boulder.

  “Ready?” he called.

  “Yes.” She joined him, sitting on a relatively flat rock with another behind ideally situated as a backrest. She grimaced as her tender rear came in contact with the stone.

  Collin narrowed his eyes and studied her. He smiled suddenly. “Need a cushion?”

  “Two of them.” She grinned ruefully.

  “How long has it been since you rode?”

  She figured it out. “Since I was sixteen, I think. That’s when I graduated from high school and stopped visiting a friend who had horses. I started college that summer.”

  “Hmm. You were pretty young. How long have you been working for your father?” He handed her a sandwich and a bag of corn chips.

  “Six years.”

  “Most people get their law degree when they’re around twenty-five.”

  She was aware of the questions in his eyes. “If you’re asking my age, I’m almost twenty-eight.”

  “A prodigy,” he said “getting through college and law school at twenty-two.”

  “I was a good student,” she admitted. “Not spectacular, but hardworking. Were you?”

  “You don’t want to know.” He bit into his sandwich.

  She followed suit, and they ate silently until curiosity overcame her. “You were an honor student,” she said, blatantly fishing for information.