by Paige Tyler
She liked children, but she wasn’t sure how to handle this youngster. For the first time it hit her that if she actually went through with marrying Morgan, this boy would be her step-son. She’d be a mother. Lord a’mighty, that was a scary notion!
Tyler eyed her anxiously now, almost squeezing her poor skunk to death. Good thing Morgan loved attention, especially being held.
“I heared that you were marrying my pa. Are you really? I can’t imagine a lady as fine as you wantin’ to do that.”
He swallowed hard and stepped closer to Chase. “Pa’s a lawman. Good one. The best.” He dusted the toe of his worn shoes back and forth in the dirt, lowered his voice. “He’s kinda fearsome, too. Him and Grampa get into some fierce yellin’ matches.”
He looked up with shining eyes filled with tears. “Got, I mean. Grampa’s dead. Some evil Comanchero done killed him.”
She sucked in a breath and glanced at Chase, who shook his head. It wasn’t a subject to be discussed right now. Did Morgan know? He’d only told her that his brother was bringing his son up here to keep him safe. Was the Comanchero that “Rafe” she’d overheard him talking about with Taos? She really didn’t like being kept in the dark about important things. She would be sitting both Taos and Morgan down when they got back for a long talk. If they got back. No! When they got back.
She forced a smile. “How about we go to the house? I need to clean up a bit. And I think Manuel, our cook, made a fresh batch of cookies this morning. I don’t suppose you like cookies?”
“Cookies! Oh, yes, ma’am, I surely do like cookies.” Tyler’s expression perked up. “Can I bring your skunk?”
Manuel wasn’t all that fond of the skunk, but she wasn’t about to say “no” when Tyler looked so hopeful. “Sure.” Then she glanced at Chase. “Where are your bedrolls? Your belongings? Your horses? I assume you didn’t just walk here from Texas.”
Chase grinned again, a smile that reached his eyes. “We left the horses and all in those trees alongside the river. I’ll fetch them in a bit.”
He seemed to be studying her with interest, not with the heated kind of interest so often in Morgan’s eyes, but seeming to measure her up as a woman.
Well aware that the back of her britches were wet and now sticking to her, and that her hair was straggling out of her braid around her face, she suddenly felt extremely lacking as a woman. She attempted to tuck a fallen strand behind her ear and shook her head sadly. “I’m a real sight. Sorry. But I wasn’t expecting company.”
She bent down to pick up the curry brush and empty pail. “It’s nice to have someone here, though. It’s been way too quiet.”
“You look fine to me. Like a woman who gets involved in life.”
“Yep, you’re right purty,” Tyler added and then his face turned red.
She blinked at both of their comments not sure what to say.
Chase changed the subject. “I noticed there didn’t seem to be anyone about, except you and that Mexican we spotted going in the back door of the house.” He didn’t prod, but she knew he was waiting for her to tell him where the others were.
She couldn’t help looking toward the road to town once more. Worry rolled within her. “Morgan and my brother, Taos, rode out with a posse a couple of days ago. A gang member waiting for the judge to come to town for his trial escaped. A bunch of men went after him. I thought they’d be back by now.”
Chase nudged Tyler forward. Since the mule and the camel were content to stay at the other end of the corral he opened the gate for them all this time. “They’ll be back soon.” He sounded so definite that she believed him. She needed to believe him.
*
After four long days on the trail Morgan was more than ready to stop being a lawman. The posse had tracked the escaped outlaw for three days, all the way to Fort Larned. Damn fool had gotten into a gun fight with a pair of soldiers only hours before the weary posse had made it to the fort. He’d managed to kill one, wound one, and get himself killed in the end. There had been a dozen hot, sweaty, tired men ready to shoot him full of even more holes. All that time wasted. They’d spent the night at the fort and left the next morning, with Morgan and Taos riding well ahead of the rest of the posse.
Watching the sun settle lower in the rapidly darkening sky, he nodded toward a creek. “Let’s camp here tonight. I’m beat, our horses our beat.” They had ridden hard a great part of the day, both of them anxious to get home.
Taos nudged his horse to follow him. “With luck we should be back to Dodge by noon or so the day after next. I’m sure ready. And I’m wiring in my final resignation as soon as I can.”
Morgan slid from the saddle and led Demon to the creek where he eagerly put his nose into the water. “Soon as Rafe Marino has been dealt with I’m quitting as well.”
They’d argued several times in the last few days about him turning his badge in now. This time Taos didn’t even bother to try to change his mind. There was no way in hell he could stop being a lawman until the threat of Rafe was out of his life. He hated living with the idea that the bounty hunter turned killer had sworn to get even with his father and with him. He hated knowing that his son was in danger.
“I ought to rest up a day or so and then head out to track the bastard down.” But that wasn’t what he really wanted to do. He wanted to see Whiskey. He wanted to hold her in his arms and make damn sure to himself that she was all right.
Taos dismounted and walked closer. “You’ll be getting married in less than two weeks. Chase and Tyler might even now be at the ranch. You should wait a spell.”
He heaved a sigh. “I’ve had a bad feeling in my gut lately.” He faced Taos. “Those rumors about Rafe being in Wichita could be true. He could also be headed toward Dodge City, toward my son. Toward Whiskey. Waiting a spell might be the wrong plan.”
“We also heard rumors that he’d headed toward Colorado,” Taos countered, although he sounded worried, too.
Morgan hunkered down and splashed water over his sweaty face. “My gut tells me he’s not heading anywhere but to hurt what’s mine or what will be mine.”
“I don’t suppose we could hope he got into a gun fight with a couple of soldiers from Fort Dodge? That they ended up killing him?” Faint, unrealistic hope, was in Taos’ voice.
He didn’t even bother to respond.
*
Whiskey walked down the boardwalk with Chase and Tyler at her side, heading for Sanderson’s General Store. She hadn’t slept well, again, and needed to get away from the ranch for a while. She’d no sooner mentioned it at breakfast than Chase had stated that Tyler was in need of some new britches. He was growing fast and only had one pair, and they didn’t come close to reaching his ankles anymore. So here they were, going shopping, drawing curious gazes, no doubt firing up gossip. Chase was a handsome man and he moved easily beside her. Too close to her for some of the whispers she’d overheard. She was betrothed! What was she doing going around with another man?
She had just stepped into the well-stocked dry goods store when Camelia spotted her from behind the counter. A smile lit her face and she scurried by her father as he was taking money from a customer. “I’m so glad to see you!”
Chase walked up behind Whiskey, towered over her like Morgan did. Silent and unsmiling he was as intimidating as his brother. Camelia skidded to a halt and gasped, “Oh my!”
When she also caught the disapproving look on Carl Sanderson’s face as well as the customer’s frown at the sight of the half-breed in the store, she slipped her hand into the crook of Chase’s arm. She raised her chin and said boldly, “This is Chase Rydell. Morgan’s brother.”
Carl gave a relieved-looking nod of acknowledgment and the customer lost interest after the introduction.
Camelia remained frozen in place. “You…you are a bounty hunter, aren’t you? I thought that’s what I heard Taos say once.” She gaped at him in much the same way she did Morgan. Both men clearly made her uneasy.
Tyler dashed
into the store and went straight to Chase. His eyes danced with excitement. “Train’s coming! Can we go? Please!”
Chase grinned and Camelia sighed in pure pleasure at the sight of his smile. It changed his whole appearance. He ruffled Tyler’s hair. “He’s always had a fascination with trains. Reckon I should mosey on down to the station with him. We can get him britches later.”
She waved them away with a laugh. “You two go on then. I’ll stay here and visit a bit with Camelia.” As the big man and the skinny boy left the store, she faced her friend with a smile, teasing. “I thought you were in love with my brother?”
“Oh, I am. I am!” She heaved a sigh and watched Chase disappear from her sight. “That’s one good looking man, though. Not as handsome as Taos, of course. Still…”
“He’s easy on the eyes.” She thought about his brother, about all his rough edges, about the sadness that seemed to haunt him. “But he’s not Morgan.”
“So you’ve finally fallen in love with the marshal?” Camelia questioned, sounding delighted.
Had she? The man had stormed into her life—okay, he’d been pushed into it by her brothers. He’d basically stolen her ranch from her, in her opinion. He butted heads with her, wanted his own way on things, which really irritated her sometimes. Like insisting she try on dresses for the wedding that she hadn’t completely agreed to as yet. He’d burned her bottom on more than one occasion. They’d had a pretty sorry courtship, again in her opinion. But he made her heart race whenever she saw him…and not always because she was frustrated with him. And she’d been near worried sick these last few days he’d been gone.
Yet she remembered how cold he’d been to her before he’d walked away. Her heart still hurt.
“Maybe,” she finally admitted, although she wasn’t yet ready to marry him. She wasn’t sure she could even forgive him. But she wanted him back safe and unharmed.
Camelia took her hand to lead her to the back of the store. “Let’s get some lemonade and catch up in the back room. I want to know all about the dress you chose for the wedding.”
Whiskey followed her. “Morgan chose it, not me.”
They hadn’t been visiting ten minutes when Tyler raced into the store and straight to the back room. He looked directly at Whiskey, his eyes wide in amazement. “There’s a lady got off the train what looks just like you. Except she’s wearin’ a fancy dress.” He looked at her usual braid that reached to her waist. “And her hair’s all piled up high in funny curls.”
“Brandy,” Whiskey muttered, surprised. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or not, but she leaned toward “not.” She slowly stood, avoided looking down at the familiar britches she wore, at her dusty boots. Night and day difference between them. “She’s my sister.”
“Twin sister,” Camelia added as she watched her in concern.
Walking out of the store room with an excited Tyler, she headed toward an awkward reunion with the sister who always made her feel less than feminine. She recalled one day overhearing Morgan grudgingly ask Taos why he hadn’t been chosen to marry Brandy. She remembered his first look at her, how he’d been less than impressed. How would he look at her now, once he met her “perfect” sister?
*
Chase walked quietly behind the Wakefield twin who went by the nickname of Brandy. He didn’t think the nickname fit her. Wearing an elegant walking suit with a cascade of ruffles down one side and carrying a rolled up, matching parasol, she looked like an “Ariana,” not a “Brandy.” She had spotted Tyler and him in the small crowd watching people get off the train and pranced right over to them. It had surprised the hell out of him, as well as those standing nearby. After all he was clearly a half-breed and most strangers reacted much like how the customer in the general store had, with distrust and often disgust. She was clearly a lady, although slightly rumpled after traveling on the train. She had studied him for a second and then thrust her satchel at him before she started following Tyler down the street. He could have shoved the satchel back at her, but he’d been too stunned.
“I assume that boy is Morgan’s son,” she stated without waiting for him to catch up. “I also assume you are his brother.”
He watched the sweet sway of her bottom and the way sunlight shimmered over her reddish curls. She was a pretty little gal, though he favored Whiskey more. Now she was a woman who enjoyed life and made her own rules. A thought which made him chuckle. His big brother probably had a lot to say about some of her “rules.”
Brandy stopped so fast to face him that he nearly walked right over her. “What is so funny, Mr. Rydell?” Her green eyes flashed with irritation. “I don’t like being laughed at.”
He shifted back and felt irritation as well. “I was just thinking about my brother and your sister. It had nothing to do with you.”
Her delicate-looking cheeks grew pink. “I’m sorry but I…” She slammed her pink bow of a mouth shut and went right back to marching down the street until she reached the boardwalk. Then she daintily lifted her skirt to step up onto the boardwalk.
By now he wasn’t the only man watching her, but the hard look he shot them all insured they kept their distance. She didn’t even seem to be aware of the people observing her. Or maybe she just didn’t care. He wasn’t sure what he thought about her, other than he sensed she was hiding something. Why he thought that, he had no idea.
Whiskey had walked halfway down the boardwalk with Tyler and stood rigidly awaiting them in front of Kelly’s Opera House. Chase couldn’t understand her expression, but it didn’t appear that she was thrilled to have her sister in town. Interesting.
“What are you doing here?” Whiskey asked as she looked straight at her sister.
Not to be outdone in showing attitude, Brandy walked right up to Whiskey. “I came to see my sweet sister get married, of course.”
Whiskey narrowed her eyes. “How could you have even gotten here this quickly all the way from England? Morgan and I haven’t been talking marriage that long.”
“Our brothers have been talking about it for several months,” Brandy countered. She tipped up her small chin. “Anyway, I haven’t been in England for over a year.”
Before Whiskey could question that, Brandy turned to Chase. “Did you bring a wagon into town? Or do I need to rent a carriage? Because I’m certainly not riding back to the ranch on horseback.”
Tyler stood a few feet from Whiskey and his head shifted from watching one sister to another. “We got a wagon at the livery stable,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. Then he cocked his head as he looked at the satchel in Chase’s hand. “You got some trunks or something that we need to fetch from the depot?”
“Of course she does,” Whiskey said at the same time Brandy said, “No.”
Whiskey eyed her curiously and then shrugged. “I suppose you can still wear some of those clothes you left behind. Although they won’t be the latest style like you’re used to wearing.”
Now Brandy shrugged. “They’ll be just fine.” She looked at her sister’s britches and the braid dangling over her shoulder. “I see you’re still wearing boy’s clothes.”
Whiskey pursed her lips but, strangely, said nothing. The hurt was clear in her eyes as she glanced at Chase. “We’d best be heading home now.”
Chase had been studying the sisters and couldn’t get a handle on why they seemed so antagonistic with one another. There was something going on between them…or something had happened in the past. It was clear to him, though, that Brandy had just stepped all over Whiskey’s feelings. It aggravated him.
“I reckon you’re right. Tyler, let’s go fetch the wagon. We’ll come back for the ladies.” He stepped down into the road.
Both of the women followed right after him.
“No sense in us waiting here,” Whiskey explained as she walked on his right side.
“None at all,” Brandy added from his left side.
*
By the time they sat down to eat beans and cornbread that Ma
nuel had happily cooked for them, Chase was considering taking each of the sisters over his knee. They had picked at each other during the entire ride from town. Nobody had said anything outright disagreeable, but there had been plenty of implications. He’d had to sit between them and that had been damn uncomfortable after a while. Tyler had ridden in the back and he’d wished he’d done the same.
Pissy looks were still passing between them. Tyler appeared ready to flee as soon as he finished eating. Normally it took a lot to rile him, but Chase decided he’d had enough.
“Tyler, take your plate and go on down to the corral. Check on Whiskey’s critters, like you’ve been wanting to.”
He shifted his gaze to the sisters. “I need a word in private with Whiskey and Brandy.”
Relieved, Tyler was out the door in a flash. Both women looked at him unsurely, surprised by the firm tone in his voice.
Whiskey started to open her mouth but slammed it shut at his glower. The second he heard Tyler’s feet go racing down the steps and he was out of ear shot, Chase said, “I’m real close to burning your butts. Both of you.”
Whiskey’s eyes widened and she ground her teeth, but she didn’t sass back. She squirmed in her chair and he had a sudden feeling that his brother had taken his hand to her bottom a time or two. She was irritated but not willing to press the matter. Wise decision.
Brandy’s nostrils flared, fury sparked in her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed.
“Darlin’, I dare a lot. Spanking a woman’s butt for acting snippy and downright annoying is certainly something I’d dare.” Their gazes locked, neither willing to back down.
“Leave her alone,” Whiskey snapped, surprising him and earning a conspiratorial look from her sister.
Brandy sat up primly. “You are not, as you so crudely put it, ‘burning our butts.’”
“Time will tell.” He couldn’t believe the gumption she had, but he calmed a bit. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it needs to stop. Either of you have some particular gripe with your sister, you need to spit it out. Clear the air.”
