His High-Stakes Bride

by Martha Hix

  Where would she find him? She didn’t find him at his office, or at his home. She walked down to the barroom where they had first met. No Grant. But she did discover Jewel Craig and her husband, Charlie, walking out of the place.

  They had their darling little black-haired daughter, Texas Rosemarie, by the hand.

  “What the dickens is going on?” Jewel wanted to know. “Why did you not want to see us last night?”

  The Craigs had stopped by the hotel last evening, evidently after getting some word about the trouble, probably from the sheriff.

  “I wasn’t in the mood for company.”

  “Hi, Miss Patty.”

  “Hi, Rosie.” She patted the little girl’s cheek. “How are you?”

  “What’s a white slaver?”

  “Never you mind,” her mother put in, slapping her hand over the girl’s mouth. “Charlie, put Rosie in the truck. Get her a cookie. That’ll tide her over ‘til supper.”

  “Okay, sugar doll.”

  Jewel scraped her fingers through her straight, blunt-cut black hair. “We need to find Grant.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  Charlie Craig lifted the brim of his cowboy hat to scratch his head. “Yesterday, Jewel and I, we was comin’ out of Jones Feed & General, when we saw Wes Alington passing by. He had that white slaver feller with him. I heard he let that feller go.”

  “He did, Charlie. He did let him go, because Chet Merkel didn’t commit any crime.”

  “That so? You know that feller.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  “We’re worried about Grant,” Jewel allowed. “He wasn’t at poker last night, and he wasn’t at home this morning for his baked goods. I hope he’s not in a ditch somewhere, with his head split open by somebody’s pick-ax!”

  “Jewel, I suspect he’s at some property that interests him. Some ranch property. Allys Allen’s place.”

  “We’ll take you out there.”

  “Thank you, Jewel.”

  They all piled into the Daily Bread delivery truck. The baker took the wheel, with her husband in the passenger seat and Patty holding tight to five-year-old Rosie on the floorboard behind the driver. Jewel knew the road well, even in the fading light of afternoon, and she managed to avoid each and every pothole and low spot between town and the Allen ranch, but it was a careening trip.

  “Hold on—just you hold on!” Rosie announced, every time they swayed too close to a ditch. “Hold on, Uncle Grant. We’re comin’ to getcha!”

  The talkative child, in many regards, was her mother all over again. Same black hair, same dark eyes. With one major difference. The protruding teeth and skeletal skinniness that marked her mother as well as her late uncle—a scam artist who had even impersonated a medal of honor recipient, several years earlier—had been replaced by something in her Craig bloodline that promised great beauty on the horizon.

  Her mother had expressed that hope to Patience during her previous stay.

  At this moment in time, no one obsessed over Texas Rosemarie Craig’s future. Her parents and the newcomer to Lubbock just wanted to find the best-looking lawyer in the Lone Star State, the one who was in no telling what sort of mood, but “good” seemed unlikely.

  The five-mile trip, nonetheless, proved fruitful, given that Jewel Craig had an amazing ability to drive like mad and talk even faster. Patty Sweet received the equivalent of a university education in local gossip. During the bumpy ride, it was all she could do not to lose patience—she didn’t want to hear all that!—but she wouldn’t be cross with that fine lady.

  From a gap in the canvas side panel, she soon spied a windmill, then a lone horse hitched to a mesquite tree and the silhouette of a man sitting atop an outcropping of rocks near a creek, just down from a little house.

  “I bet that’s Uncle Grant,” little Rosie cried out.

  “I think so.” Patty, holding the girl, kissed her cheek.

  “We’re here,” Jewel announced.

  Rosie jumped out of Patty’s grip and stood up, the very moment her mother yanked the brake into gear. She yelled out the canvas side of the truck. “Where you at, good lookin’?”

  “Rosie,” her mama said, “you sit down and I don’t mean ‘maybe.’”

  “Ain’t none of us getting’ out, except Miss Patty.”

  “But Daddy!”

  “Listen to your father.”

  Thank heavens. As much as she liked and enjoyed the Craig family, she needed to go this meeting alone.

  Chapter 7

  The crickets were cricking, the other night sounds awakening. Stars were dim in a half-moon sky. It wasn’t a full moon, the moon of disasters, but Patty prayed a disaster of the heart would be diverted this night at the Allen ranch, once twilight deepened to midnight.

  As she approached Grant, Patty carefully avoided the many holes made by wildlife, as well as the prickly vegetation and the threats from snakes and insects. A jackrabbit came out of nowhere to hop over her path, scaring her half witless. Nothing would hold her back, though.

  “Grant, I need to talk to you.”

  “Yes, you do.” He sat on that rock, his Stetson low on his brow, even though he needed no protection from the sun, not this time of day. The heel of a boot cocked up on the lip of a rock, he moved forward to pick up a stone that he aimed at something—or possibly nothing—in the distance. “I thought I knew Patience Sweet. What I know is smoke and mirrors.”

  “I won’t argue that.”

  “You’d better tell your friends to go home. We may be here for a while.”

  How would she get back to town? There was hope in the answer, so she waved the Craigs away. As the delivery truck turned to head back to town, Patty asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have a peppermint, would you?”

  “Of course I would.” He unwrapped one, handed it to her. “One thing you never lied about…”

  “What’s that?”

  Not looking at her, he carefully refolded the paper. “You never said you love me.”

  “Of course I have.”

  “You never have.”

  The wind took that moment to kick up as a reminder that autumn had arrived with a vengeance. Rubbing her arms, she said, “I do love you, Grant. I love you with all my heart. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t come out here to say that. Why are you here?”

  This was the part that hurt. No, it all hurt. Every bit of it. She shivered. “I couldn’t leave town without… I couldn’t leave…”

  He slipped off his jacket to drape it around her shoulders. “Where you going?”

  “I am prepared to leave in the morning on the Santa Fe. I’m thinking probably for El Paso. You mentioned an orphanage out there. Maybe they can find something for me to do there. I’m sure they can use some money.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “That’s not the only reason I’m here.” Patty’s teeth were beginning to chatter, be it from nerves or the wind that was blowing, she couldn’t decide. And didn’t care. “Do you think Allys Allen would mind if we go inside her house?”

  “She won’t mind. She’s off to Kerrville, and knows I’m buying the place.”

  It was a mud hut, simple in design but adequate as a ranch dwelling in this part of the country, where lumber was scarce. Neither architecture nor lumber meant much to Patty. The place had a heater. It looked clean and was devoid of varmints. Most of all, it had a bed with linens. While Grant built a fire in a Franklin heater, she unlaced her shoes and got down to the primary reason for her visit.

  The moment she took off her stockings, he almost shouted. “Where are your shoes?”

  “I’m here for my final lesson.”

  “Lesson in what?”

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “Seduction of a virgin.�
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  His hands were clenched at his side. “That’s not funny.”

  “I didn’t mean it to be funny. I’m serious. From the very start, I have wanted desperately to be seduced by you. You’ve been the coy bridegroom, holding back on favors, because you’ve been playing by the rules. Doing the right thing. You were brought up to do the right thing. That’s just one of the things I admire about you. But here’s the rub—pun intended. Our romance is at end.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t put it so bluntly.”

  “Our romance apparently is at end. It’s at end, because you’d rather be a governor than to be with me.”

  “Not true.”

  “You’re worried about gossip.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I’m not concerned how people would take that cockamamie story of yours.”

  “Speaking of lies, I never lied to you. I told you I’m eighteen. Yes, you won me in the poker game, but how did you lose? I never took a dime from you. I didn’t lie about it, either.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t. But there are packs of lies surrounding your story.”

  She could start in on all the stories Jewel had mentioned in the ride from town, but she wouldn’t. Not yet. “I won’t argue on that score. No, sir, I surely won’t.”

  Unbuttoning her blouse, she smiled at him. “What I’d like you to do? Redeem your award. Satisfy these tizzies that just won’t go away for the want and need of you. Seduce the virgin.”

  He was frowning. “Is that what your streetwalker friend taught you? Where the hell is your pride, woman?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  He looked her up and down. “Therein lies the problem.”

  At this point, she wanted to leave. She could tell he was of the same mind. But the wind was still up. There was one horse between the two of them. “You go ahead and leave,” she said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll walk to town at first light. No! On second thought, you can damn sure walk to town. I’m borrowing your horse. Or stealing it! I’m not missing that train, because I’ve seen enough. I’ve had enough of a man who let’s gossip get in the way of what’s good for him.”

  “Stop embarrassing yourself, Patience. Most people have a little something they’ve done wrong. You just have way too much to overlook.”

  “Oh, really? You think so?” That was when she started in on the list from the ride out to the Allen place. It was quite a lot, just from the Kincaid family plus the Alingtons. “I’ll bet there are a lot more stories.”

  “There are,” he conceded. “I’ve dealt with so many that I’m burnt out from them.”

  “What’re you thinking to do in El Paso?” He took a bottle of whiskey down from a shelf before pouring inch shots into two glasses. He handed her one and downed the other.

  “I’ve been thinking about that church orphanage and all those urchins who took our packages to the hotel for pennies.” She took a sip. “I’m going out there to help children who are alone and in need.”

  “We have needy kids here in Lubbock County.”

  “I imagine you do.”

  “You could stay here and help kids.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be so close to you, yet so far away.”

  “I like the idea of helping needy kids.”

  What was going on here? She studied Grant. The guard looked gone from his face. He was clearly looking at her. She pointed out, “You said you were sick of that type of work.”

  “I said I wouldn’t mind helping kids.” He refilled the inch marks. “Besides, a man can change his mind, can’t he?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I reserve the right to change mine. We could build a big house out here, get those horses we talked about. Taking care of the horses and their stables would be good for kids. It’s hard to believe, but many town kids have never even been in a saddle.”

  “I haven’t.” Her hopes were building, but… “What about gossip, you know. About my past.”

  “Whatever gets said, we turn it around, use it as an example of how to laugh in the face of adversity.”

  “What are we going to do with the children when you become governor?”

  “The last I heard, they are still allowing kids inside the Austin city limits, but who knows. Which reminds me, I read that they’re taking applications from females to enter the law school at the university.”

  “I haven’t given law school one thought,” she admitted.

  “You have thought about the most important aspect. The naughty. Just so you’ll know, I placed an order this morning for a Brownie camera and equipment. I do hope you’ll allow me to take a picture of your brownie with that Brownie.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Forever the innocent…” He grinned that lopsided grin of his, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her to him. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after we get married to finish my seduction-of-a-virgin lessons?”

  Grant was hard and hot, and Patience was wet and melty. “I’m absolutely sure.”

  If you enjoyed Martha Hix’s His High-Stakes Bride, be sure not to miss the rest of the Texan Brides series, including

  HIS RIP-ROARIN’ BRIDE

  Packing a six-shooter, Lisa-Ann Wilkins roars into Lubbock, Texas, determined to take out the man who killed her best friend. But a shoot-out at the local saloon only lands the bold beauty in the custody of Sheriff Wes Alington—and the real trouble begins. When the handsome lawman gives her the choice to keep his house until she settles the debts her havoc caused, it’s an offer she can’t refuse, despite the simmering attraction between them . . .

  Wes knows keeping Lisa-Ann close is only going to lead to a pack of problems. For how can he preserve her honor when all he wants to do is take her to his bed? Then there’s the little matter of her plan to murder a local man. But once Wes sees Lisa’s vulnerable side, he knows the feisty lawbreaker is fast on her way to stealing his heart . . .

  Keep reading for a special excerpt!

  A Lyrical e-novella on sale now.

  Meet the Author

  Martha Hix grew up in Texas and didn’t mind listening to stories about how her ancestors had been in the place for a long, long time. As a child, she soaked up the stories and became an ardent student of family and general history, which came in handy when she took to writing both fiction and non-fiction. Her novels have translated into multiple languages, including Japanese, Greek, and Turkish. On the home front, she lives in the fabulous Texas Hill Country with her husband and their spoiled four-legged kids. Visit her on the web at marthahix.com.