A Match Made in Texas
Page 29
Against his better judgment, he pushed himself away from the hitching rail and headed for the store. He’d been meaning to buy some jerky to have with him on his nightly rides to survey the area as he looked for possible places where a gang just might choose to ambush a stagecoach or the wagon carrying the payload.
Once again, the change in light from the strong sun to the shadowy, cooler interior of the store took some getting used to. Seth was aware that the women had all been talking when he entered, and now, as he shut the door and the bell above it went silent, all conversation had stopped.
“May I help you, sir?” The proprietor stepped forward, but he heard the wariness in her tone that he’d grown used to over the last couple of years. He knew she had seen him around town, but this was the first time he’d come to her store. Whitman Falls was a small place, and his way of dressing all in black—from his hat to his boots to the sack coat he wore to cover the pistol he carried—was hard to miss. Further, it sent a message for folks to keep their distance.
“Yes, ma’am. I could use some jerky.”
Eliza McNew led the way toward the back of the store past the two women. Seth tipped his hat and waited at the counter. “Ladies,” he murmured.
The younger one let out a gasp that had the older woman looking at her with surprise. She stared at him, her hand fluttering around her mouth, her eyes wide with recognition. But Seth felt certain they’d never met—he would remember meeting a woman as beautiful as she was. Still, there was something about her.
The older woman stepped forward and extended her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name is Constance Porterfield, and this is my daughter, Amanda. And you are?”
“Name’s Grover, ma’am.” He accepted the handshake and was surprised at how firm and strong it was. Porterfield. The local marshal was a Porterfield—couldn’t be a coincidence. “I met Marshal Porterfield when I first came to town—any relation?”
“My son. He’s planning on running for district sheriff,” she added with the obvious pride of a mother, and, perhaps, the need to impress Seth with the fact that this family had the law on their side.
Seth and Jess Porterfield had come to an understanding a couple of weeks earlier when the marshal had confronted Seth and suggested he move on. He had decided to take Porterfield into his confidence without revealing that his true concern was the fort’s payroll. The marshal had agreed to give him the time he needed to foil the gang on one condition. “Stay away from my sister.”
Seth had laughed and told him that wouldn’t be a problem since he didn’t know the man’s sister. But now that they’d been introduced and he’d gotten a good look at those cactus-green eyes and plump, rosy lips that could stop a man in his tracks, Seth was pretty sure he might have trouble keeping the bargain he’d made.
“It’s been some time since we’ve had anyone move to Whitman Falls, Mr. Grover. Are you thinking of settling here with your family?”
He ducked his head to hide the smile that curved his lips. Mrs. Porterfield was clearly good at gathering information. He was well aware that she was really inquiring about his marital status and intentions for making Whitman Falls his home. “No, ma’am. Just passing through.”
The shopkeeper wrapped the jerky in brown paper and handed it to him. “On the house,” she said. “My way of welcoming newcomers.”
Seth doubted that. The way Eliza McNew’s hand shook slightly as she presented him with the package, it was more likely that free jerky was her way of letting him know she would be obliged if he didn’t cause her any trouble or rob her store.
“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am.” It wasn’t the first time a business owner had offered him free stuff hoping that he would leave them alone. It meant his cover was working.
But Mrs. Porterfield did not seem intimidated. “Exactly what is it that you do, Mr. Grover?” she asked. The daughter remained silent, but she looked directly at him—in fact, it was a little like she was looking him over, trying to come to some decision.
“At the moment, I need to check on my horse, ma’am.” Seth tucked the package of jerky in the patch pocket of his coat and saw the daughter’s eyes widen with interest when his action revealed the gun he wore strapped on his hip. He tipped his hat. “You ladies enjoy your day,” he said as he set his hat lower over his eyes and left.
It occurred to him that Amanda Porterfield had not exhibited the usual female reaction to seeing a gun. Her eyes had widened, to be sure, but with excitement, not alarm. She had been unable to look away.
“Another sign she’s trouble,” Seth muttered. If she had the sense God gave her, she’d surely be a little more wary. After all, she didn’t know him, and he was totin’ a six-shooter and refusing to answer simple questions.
Stay away from my sister, the marshal had warned.
“Good advice,” Seth said as he crossed the street to the livery, where he could hear the clang of metal on metal as the blacksmith pounded a new shoe into place. Of course, from the way she was studying him back there in the store, he had a feeling that Amanda might have other ideas.
He’d have to make sure he avoided any further contact.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is never easy, but because of my husband’s illness and passing, writing A Match Made in Texas was especially difficult. If it wasn’t for you, my readers, I might never have gotten the book written. Thank you for your notes of encouragement and for making me smile when I thought I had nothing to smile about.
I also want to thank my fabulous agent and friend Natasha Kern, whose loving concern and prayers helped me through some very dark days.
Words can’t convey how much I appreciate my terrific editor, Mary Altman, whose skillful eye and keen insight helped make my book better than I thought it could be. I’ve always valued her advice, but never more so than I did for this book. Also, I simply must thank art director Dawn Adams, artist Judy York, and photographer Shirley Green for the great cover. That’s exactly how I envisioned my heroine.
Finally, I want to thank God for my dear husband, George, who always believed in me and encouraged me to keep going during the many years of rejection. Among his last words to me was his wish that I keep writing. He truly was and will always be the wind beneath my wings.
About the Author
Bestselling author Margaret Brownley has penned more than forty novels and novellas. Her books have won numerous awards, including Readers’ Choice and Award of Excellence. She’s a former Romance Writers of American RITA finalist and has written for a TV soap. She is currently working on her next series. Not bad for someone who flunked eighth grade English. Just don’t ask her to diagram a sentence.
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CHRISTMAS IN A COWBOY’S ARMS
Stay toasty this holiday season with heart-warming tales from bestselling authors Leigh Greenwood, Rosanne Bittner, Linda Broday, Margaret Brownley, Anna Schmidt, and Amy Sandas.
Whether it’s a lonely spinster finding passion at last, an infamous outlaw-turned-lawman reaffirming the love that keeps him whole, a lost and broken drifter discovering family in unlikely places, a Texas Ranger risking it all for one remarkable woman, two lovers bringing together a family ripped apart by prejudice, or reunited lovers given a second chance to correct past mistakes…a Christmas spent in a cowboy’s arms is full of hope, laughter, and—most of all—love.
“If it’s a Greenwood cowboy story, readers are guaranteed an emotional, rich, adventurous romance with strong heroes and courageous heroines.”
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