Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Darcy’s insides quickened. Uh-oh. Just when she’d been getting on board with his movie-scripted version of their lives. “Sounds like a problem. What is it—that he’s an alien or an escaped mental patient?”

  “Either of those would do, I suppose. But I was thinking more along the lines of a trust-fund thing he was supposed to have corrected.”

  Darcy lifted her chin. “Oh? And he didn’t do it, right?”

  His expression never changed. “No. He did it. He just didn’t do it exactly the way the female love interest thought he would.”

  Darcy put her hands on her hips. “Tom, what exactly did you do?”

  He shrugged, never looking away. “I put it in your name.”

  Darcy felt as if someone had whacked her behind the knees. “My name? But you were supposed to—”

  “Take it out of Montana’s name. And I did that.”

  Darcy could only stare at him. Words wouldn’t come. She truly needed to tell him how she felt. About him. Suddenly the words just tumbled out of her. “I swear, Tom Elliott, if I didn’t love you like I do, I’d—”

  “What did you say?” He stopped the swing from swinging and stared hard at her.

  Darcy frowned. “I said if I didn’t—” She covered her mouth with a hand. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “I can’t, either,” Tom said, grinning to beat the band. “I thought sure I’d have to hold your feet to the fire to get you to admit that. Not that I can blame you, mind you, given everything that former love interest dealt you.”

  Darcy lowered her hand, ignoring the crazy way her pulse was racing. He was right about Hank. And about how she’d been clinging to what now seemed like silly reasons for going it alone. Where was it written that she had to be a martyr? “Well, thank you for that much, anyway.”

  Then Tom turned serious. “Darcy, come here, please, and hold your daughter. I’d like to talk to you, if I could.”

  It was a pivotal moment. She glanced around, seeking inspiration. Movement at the corner of her eye had her looking toward the house, to the back picture windows. From inside, about 400 faces were pressed shamelessly against the glass. A few daring souls even smiled and waved, urging her toward Tom. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

  “They still there?”

  “Yes. How’d you know? You have your back to the window.”

  “Are you kidding? Who didn’t know? Come here. They won’t be able to see you if you come sit by me.”

  That decided it. Darcy took the few steps needed to get her over to the swing and turning, sat down. Tom immediately handed her Montana, who made an awful face, reddened, and drew her legs up. “Great,” Darcy said drolly as Tom put an arm around her shoulders.

  Completely warmed and happy and falling more and more in love with him with each passing moment, Darcy met his waiting gaze. “Make sure you get that mountain of diapers Mom’s bought when you help me pack, will you?”

  Tom looked at her as if she’d just said I do to him in front of a church full of people. Indeed, she thought sure he was going to drop to one knee and propose to her. Then, it struck her. “Hey, you are going to marry me, aren’t you? I mean, someday, right? After everything I’ve been through, I’m not about to live with a man—”

  “Hold on. I’ll marry you. But first you have to kiss me.”

  Darcy shook her head. “No, that’s not the way I remember it. The kiss comes at the end of the ceremony.”

  “Not in Montana.”

  Darcy pulled back and stared at him. “You are lying.”

  “Now, is that any way to start a life together? With one of us calling the other one a liar?”

  “No, I suppose not. But what about you and what you did with your grandfather’s land?”

  It was his turn to pull back. “I didn’t lie. I took it out of Montana’s name, exactly as you asked me to do.”

  “Yes, and put it in my name.”

  “Honey, I’m ready to put everything I own in your name.”

  Darcy shook her head in wonder. “I have never met anyone like you, Tom Harrison Elliott. You make me forget all my doubts. I had good reasons for saying everything I did yesterday, but seeing you, I can’t think what they are now.”

  Tom leaned over and planted a kiss on Darcy’s temple. “They’re not important, if you love me. Do you love me, Darcy?”

  Her insides melted. “I’m afraid I do. More than is good for me.”

  “I’ll take that. You think you could stand to live in Montana? If you don’t want to live there, I’ll come back East with you. My foreman can—”

  “No. That comment about my former love interest convinced me. I’d like to try Montana. Besides, it’s closer to my mother than Baltimore is.”

  “That’s true. But, hell, she can move up there, too, with us. I don’t mind.”

  Darcy’s expression became plaintive. “Oh, please. Mind.”

  He chuckled. “All right. We won’t mention it to her for a while. And speaking of a trip to Montana, you think you can stand that ride up there right now? I mean, will your doctor let you and the baby travel?”

  Darcy grimaced. “I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know.” Then she realized something else. “Oh, Tom, you’re not still planning on leaving today, are you? I’ll need time. I can’t—”

  “No, it’s fine. Take all the time you need. I can just make a few phone calls, have my foreman fly the jet down here—”

  “The jet, Tom? Not a jet, but the jet?” He managed to look embarrassed. “Well, it’s a small one. Anyway, I’ll have Corey fly it down in a couple days. That ought to give us time to make your arrangements and say your goodbyes here. And then I’ll have Corey drive my pickup back to Montana. And you and I can fly back with the baby.”

  “You’re a pilot, too, right?” Darcy had no idea who this man was. But she intended to thank God every day for his presence in her life.

  “Yeah. Didn’t I mention that?”

  “No. You omitted that part. What else should I know?”

  He looked away, as if giving serious thought to that. Darcy drank in his handsomeness and the strength of his profile. “Well,” he said, looking down at her. “I suppose I ought to tell you how this whole party inside came about.”

  “Please do.”

  “You see, yesterday in the mail, so your mother told me today, Montana Skye’s birth certificate came. And she opened it—”

  “And saw your name. I forgot about that. That stinker, she opened my mail. She never said a word to me.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her. She did what she thought was best. Besides, getting us together like she did just made that birth certificate a little easier to explain to Montana later on.”

  “Well, that’s true. I guess I’ll let this one pass.”

  “Good for you.” Then, suddenly, Tom stroked her cheek, melting Darcy’s insides. “Darcy, I just want you to know that I’ll always be good to you. I’ll do my best never to hurt you. I’ll cherish you and Montana always, I swear it.”

  The tears gathered in Darcy’s eyes. “I know. Say you love me, Tom.”

  With all due earnestness, he murmured, “I love you, Tom.”

  Darcy swatted at his arm. “Stop that.”

  Chuckling, Tom gathered her in his arms, pulled his white Stetson off and held it between their faces and the crowd behind them still clustered in the picture window. He tenderly told Darcy he loved her…and then kissed the life back into her heart and the fire into her soul.

  In her mother’s lap, with her drive-by daddy next to them, Montana Skye yawned and relaxed. All was well in her little world. Or would be…if only someone had a dry diaper they could loan her.

  PATRICIA KNOLL

  Calamity Jo

  He didn’t bother with seduction

  “Shut up,” Case growled, pulling her tightly against him. “Just shut up.”

  For once Jo obeyed, clinging to him.

  With his mouth on hers, Case pulled her flush agains
t him. Vaguely, he thought she must feel as stunned as he did, but after a moment, her hands came up to cup his jaw and her mouth ravaged his.

  “You irritate the hell out of me,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “I…ca…an’t stand you, either,” she responded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  “You don’t do what I tell you to.” His lips skated across her jaw.

  “You’re so darned bossy.” She turned her face and kissed him, wondering how he could be so delicious that she wanted to kiss him forever, and so aggravating that she wanted to kick him down the steps.

  Dear Reader,

  I have alwaysloved eccentric people, so I thought writing about a townful of them would be a lot of fun. And where else could I set this story, but in an old Arizona mining town. In fact, starting with a couple of unlucky miners and calling the place Calamity Falls seemed right too.

  Jo Ella Quillan and Case Houston run afoul of each other when she interferes with an investigation he’s pursuing, so much that he begins thinking of her as the biggest calamity in Calamity Falls. Little does he guess that the only casualty will be his heart. I hope you enjoy the sparks that fly between these two.

  Happy reading,

  Books by Patricia Knoll

  HARLEQUIN DUETS

  3—MEANT FOR YOU

  HARLEQUIN LOVE & LAUGHTER

  53—DELIGHTFUL JONES

  Prologue

  Arizona Territory, 1879

  “DOES IT LOOK BAD, Battlehaven?” Rudolph Shipper asked as he bounced on the hard stagecoach seat, flew up and hit his head on the roof, and crashed back again. He was sure he felt some bones snap, but it didn’t matter. Since the stagecoach had begun trying to outrun the Apaches a few minutes before, he’d made several such bounces and he figured most of his bones were broken anyway.

  “It looks as bad as possible, Shipper,” Lord Albert Battlehaven announced as he made a flying bounce of his own. He scrambled to hang on to his porkpie hat as he landed, then slid along the horsehair seat and collided with the door. “I think these aborigines are taking exception to our presence on their ancient habitat.”

  “Huh…uh?” Shipper hiccuped the word as his head again made contact with the coach’s roof.

  “They want to kill us for trespassing.”

  On Shipper’s next flying trip past the window, he saw the determined faces of the pursuing Apaches. Fierce black eyes met his, seemingly promising death. He gulped, wishing he’d never left the Iron Range of Minnesota. The Indians there had been tame, pleasant even, he recalled wistfully. They were no longer interested in parting hapless white men from their hair.

  “What are we gonna do?” he wailed.

  “I think we should encourage the driver to exhort the horses to greater feats of exertion.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell him to drive like hell.”

  Grasping the edge of the window, Shipper stuck his head out, being careful to dodge bullets and arrows. When he shouted Battlehaven’s instructions to the driver, the man craned his neck around, gave him a wild-eyed look, and released a string of abusive curses that had Shipper ducking back inside. The man riding shotgun and firing desperately at their pursuers added a few curses of his own for good measure.

  Shipper bounced back into his seat and reported, “He’s doing his best.”

  “Do you think we made an error in judgment by attempting to ride across Apache territory in this conveyance?” Battlehaven asked. He knew it was inconceivable that he’d made a mistake, but he craved confirmation of his leadership.

  “No, I think we made a mistake before we took this stagecoach, when you suggested we try riding across on mules and stopped to ask directions in that village on the reservation. That was where you got the attention of that Indian maiden.”

  “She was a comely lass.” Battlehaven sighed, then took another worried peek out the window. So far, the coach was keeping ahead of the Indian ponies. If they closed the gap, though, he planned to panic. Too bad he didn’t have a gun, he thought. Too bad he was such a dreadful shot.

  “She was promised to the young warrior who’s leading that pack out there,” Shipper snapped, his hand flying upward as he pointed to the rider, who was armed with bow and arrows, two rifles, a six-shooter and several long knives—all of which seemed to have Shipper and Battlehaven’s names on them.

  “An arranged marriage,” Battlehaven answered dismissively, as if such trifles were meant to be disposed of according to his wishes.

  Shipper gave him a horrified look, then hunkered down as best he could in the wildly rocking stagecoach bemoaning his fate. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. Meeting the English lord in Chicago had been a stroke of luck, or so he’d thought. Battlehaven was a remittance man, paid by his family to stay as far from them as possible. His remittance was bank-rolling their mining expedition to the Arizona territory, and Shipper, with his mining background, was to provide the labor and expertise. So far, though, they’d had nothing but trouble.

  “Besides, how was I supposed to know she had a fiancé?” Battlehaven asked, pulling his hat down low over his eyes. Maybe if he disguised himself, that Apache warrior would think Shipper was the one who had tried to seduce the girl. “She didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Apache.”

  Shipper had no answer to that. He was too busy making his peace with the Almighty.

  To his everlasting gratitude, though, the shotgun rider miraculously managed to outshoot the Apaches, who started to fall back. Their leader let out a frustrated and furious yell as he waved his weapons in the air.

  Battlehaven breathed a sigh of relief and promised himself to keep his trousers firmly buttoned from now on—or at least when there were Apache maidens around.

  Shipper broke into loud prayers of praise and fell back against the seat. He promised the Almighty that from now on he would be the best of men. He gave Battlehaven a sidelong glance, then added a promise only to associate with the best of men.

  The stagecoach hurtled forward, straight for the safety of Fort Lowell in the dusty little town of Tucson, out of harm’s way. Shipper was grateful that Battlehaven was willing to pay for a hotel, where the two of them had a real bath and several drinks to calm their nerves. They dined out on the story that evening, retelling their adventures over and over.

  Shipper realized that with each retelling, their heroic exploits became more and more exaggerated. By bedtime, they’d become the ones rescuing the stagecoach and the driver and shotgun rider had become the ones cowering inside. Shipper knew that the lie should have bothered him more, especially considering his recent promise to the Almighty, but it made him feel so heroic he let it stand.

  By the next day, Shipper and Battlehaven had begun exploring the possibilities of prospecting in the area. On Shipper’s advice, Battlehaven quickly decided that they needed to head northeast of the town. They bought a map guaranteed to lead them straight to a big gold strike, purchased some equipment, found a few mules, and headed out.

  Three days later, they stopped their pack mules at the base of a craggy mountain.

  “Do you think this could be it?” Shipper asked. Gratefully, he clambered down from the back of the mule he’d nicknamed Nutcracker and stood staring upward, his crumpled felt hat pushed back on his head.

  Lord Albert Battlehaven swung down from the saddle, looking as elegant as if he were out for a Sunday afternoon jaunt. He consulted the map they’d purchased in Tucson. The former U.S. cavalryman who had sold it to them had guaranteed its accuracy. “Puertas de las Mulas,” Battlehaven answered. “Mule Pass. This looks right.” He glanced down at a shallow creek that glistened at their feet, now only running because of the heavy spring rains. A dull gleam caught his attention and he dismounted to investigate. He dipped a careful palm into the creek and came out with a handful of sand, flecked with gold. The real thing. He could always tell the real thing. Hadn’t he squandered enough of it to make him an expert?

  “This is right,
old man,” he said excitedly, holding his hand out to show Shipper. “We’ve finally found that for which we came all this way.”

  On saddle-sore legs, Shipper stumbled to his side. He had panned for gold—though not very successfully—in California thirty years before and was sure that he, too, could recognize the real thing.

  Battlehaven used a meticulously kept fingernail to flick out specks of gold and place them in Shipper’s dirt-crusted palm. If he turned his hand just right in the strong light, Shipper could almost see them.

  “We’re rich,” he said, in awe.

  Battlehaven nodded regally. “After the horrors we’ve endured, we’ve finally arrived and we’re going to be rich.”

  Shipper gazed at his friend with admiration. “Your family back in merry old England will sit up and take notice of you now, won’t they?”

  “Without a doubt.” Truthfully, they’d taken notice of him before, especially after he’d lost a bet and had paid it off by riding buck naked through Regent’s Park. That, and his involvement with two lusty actresses, had prompted his family to turn him into a remittance man. Well, he thought smugly, let them say what they would about his behavior, but he’d never known any of the Battlehavens to turn up their noses at gold.

  “Yessiree, meeting up with you in Chicago was a stroke of luck for me,” Shipper said, forgetting his previous laments about that very thing. He could afford to be forgiving. They were going to be rich. “All we have to do is follow the creek and discover the mother lode. Let’s go.”

  To Shipper’s dismay, they didn’t find the mother lode that afternoon or the next. In fact, it took them two weeks of careful searching and wrong turns to find what they were looking for. At last, in an outcropping of rock near the San Pedro River, Shipper discovered a thimble’s worth of nuggets. A day of digging convinced them that they had found a rich source of gold. They planned to rush back to Tucson the next day to file their claim. The men solemnly shook hands on their agreement to share everything fifty-fifty, then stayed awake all night, each watching the other for signs of possible treachery.