In His Kiss: Blemished Brides, Book 4

by Peggy L Henderson

  In His Kiss

  Blemished Brides, Book 4

  Peggy L Henderson

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Epilogue

  Copyright © 2017 by Peggy L Henderson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor: Barbara Ouradnik

  Proofreading: Behest Indie Novelist Services

  Cover: Collin Henderson

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  Other books in the Blemished Brides Series (each book is a standalone, so they do not need to be read in order)

  In His Eyes

  In His Touch

  In His Arms

  In His Kiss

  Introduction

  Eleanor Benton has lived most of her life under the protective watch of her widowed father. A tragic, life-altering event robbed her of the person she could have been. When she is brought to stay with her relatives on a horse ranch in Montana, she meets a man who reaches out to her in ways no one else has ever done.

  Lance Taggart prefers being a drifter and doesn’t believe in putting down roots. Together with his canine companion, he finds solace in keeping his distance from those who cannot see past his mixed-blood heritage. When his boss' quiet, auburn-haired niece arrives at the ranch, his priorities are about to change.

  Facing the daily misunderstandings and harsh realities of an often cruel, close-minded society, Lance and Ellie fight to overcome what others perceive as barriers. Will their love be strong enough to withstand the truth that links their pasts in a way they never imagined?

  Chapter One

  Circle P Ranch, Outside Elk Lodge, Montana 1893

  The young colt snorted and backed up several steps. Lance Taggart moved toward the skittish animal to maintain a consistent distance between himself and the horse. He continued speaking quietly while holding up a saddle blanket. The colt stopped and blew air through its flared nostrils. Lance smiled. He held the blanket up in front of him and waited for the colt to lower its head.

  Seconds passed before the animal stretched his neck forward and sniffed. Lance reached out to run his hand along the colt’s muzzle and up its head, resting his palm between the animal’s eyes. When the colt didn’t move, Lance raised the blanket and rubbed it against the horse’s neck. The colt took a step to the side, but Lance followed.

  “What’s that filthy Injun doing? He’s plumb wastin’ time. Breakin’ a horse don’t take all day.”

  “Stubbs must have lost his mind, hiring him on. At this rate, the horses will all be old nags before they’re broke.”

  The muscles in Lance’s neck tensed, but he instantly relaxed again. If the colt sensed even a slight change in his body language, his time spent with the animal would be wasted. He tuned out the two cowpunchers who’d come up to stand outside the corral fence.

  “Bet he gets bucked off the moment he sets foot in the stirrup.”

  The other man chuckled. “Bet he don’t even get the cinch tightened under that horse before he gets a kick to the head.”

  Both men laughed.

  Lance kept his back to them, whispering to the horse in his mother’s tongue, just as his grandfather had taught him to do. The old man used to tell him that gaining a horse’s trust, rather than breaking it by force, made for a much more dependable mount.

  The young thoroughbred he was working with today had proven to be the most challenging horse he’d trained in years, but his efforts were paying off. He’d spent the last week gaining the young animal’s trust, and a couple of cowpokes goading him weren’t going to ruin all his work. At the moment they were merely background noise.

  In the two weeks that Lance had been employed at the Circle P Ranch, he hadn’t encountered those two men. They must have been part of the crew that had herded steers to the stockyards in Deer Lodge. Not that he cared. Lance wasn’t interested in cows. He knew horses, and that’s what he’d been hired on to train.

  Repeatedly, he waved the blanket in front of the horse’s nose, then rubbed it all over the animal’s body – along its withers, down its shoulders, then over its back and croup, and under its belly and legs – while the cowpokes voiced their snide remarks. The horse stood still, its ears twitching back and forth, sometimes listening to the onlookers but mostly focusing on Lance’s voice.

  Satisfied that the colt was ready, Lance placed the blanket onto the horse’s back, followed by the saddle. The colt’s head raised in alarm, but he quickly relaxed again. If this had been his horse, Lance wouldn’t have bothered with a saddle, but the animal needed to get used to having a cinch around its belly.

  Slowly, he looped the leathers through the saddle and tightened the cinch just enough to keep the saddle from sliding. Once the colt remained relaxed while Lance led him around the enclosure, he tightened the girth some more. He held the lead rope in one hand as he stepped one foot in the stirrup, letting the animal feel his weight. A bridle could wait until next time.

  With controlled ease, he raised his right leg over the animal’s back, and waited. Beneath him, the horse’s muscles tensed and its spine dipped. Lance continued his soothing chatter while the horse’s head was raised. He patted the neck and murmured in quiet tones. The colt’s back slowly lifted as its neck came down, and the tension flowed out of its muscles.

  “Well this ain’t no fun,” one of the men watching said.

  Lance raised his eyes to the cowpokes, taking his concentration away from the young horse beneath him, as one pulled his revolver from his holster. A deep growl came from somewhere near the fence, then the swirl of gray fur rushed up to the man. He cursed and pointed the gun at the large dog that jumped at him.

  “Mahto,” Lance called and the dog veered out of the way a split second before a shot fired.

  Lance leapt from the saddle right before the young horse bolted and bucked, running around the pen, hooves flying and dragging its lead rope on the ground. Avoiding the spooked animal, Lance grabbed for the top fence rail and pulled himself over and out of the pen. He rushed toward the man who aimed his gun at the dog again. Grabbing the cowpoke by the shirt collar, Lance knocked the six-shooter out of his hand and nearly lifted the man off his feet.

  “Be glad I’m not carrying my knife on me,” he growled, staring into the man’s wide eyes. “Next time you want to take a shot at my dog, you won’t be so lucky.”

  He pushed the man away from him into his companion who’d stood by with equally wide eyes. The two men stumbled backward and nearly lost their footing. Lance glared at both of them once more, then climbed over the fence and back into the pen. Mahto barked once,
then returned to his place under the fence, lying down, but watching the two men.

  The young horse had stopped bucking. He stood at the far end of the pen, trembling and looking suspiciously at Lance. His shoulders glistened with sweat. Lance grabbed for his hat on the ground and cursed. A week’s worth of work with this animal was now ruined. It might take twice as long to gain the horse’s trust again.

  Lance inhaled a slow breath and kept his eye on the horse, holding out his hand to reach for the lead rope. The colt trembled and looked as if it was going to bolt, but remained still.

  “Good boy,” Lance said in a soothing voice. He placed his hand on the animal’s head, then led it out of the pen.

  “You’d better watch your back from now on, Injun,” the man who’d taken a shot at Mahto grumbled under his breath.

  He’d already picked up his gun, but wisely holstered it. Lance snickered and glared at both men as he led the horse past. His dog followed closely on his heel. How many times had he heard threats like that before? And simply because of the color of his skin, because of his mixed heritage.

  Most people never took the time to get to know him. They judged and condemned. It didn’t matter that he kept his nose to the ground and avoided trouble. Trouble always followed him. It had been that way since he was a youth, back at the Indian school.

  “What in tarnation is going on over here? Who shot off their gun?”

  Lance glanced over his shoulder at the gruff voice that belonged to a stout little man wearing a big hat. His short legs moved fast to carry him toward Lance and the two cowpokes.

  “Stubbs,” the man who’d shot his gun greeted. He plastered a wide smile on his face. “We was just havin’ a little fun, ain’t that right, Injun?”

  Lance didn’t acknowledge the man.

  “Hank Marvel, you ain’t got the sense of a two-bit whore. If you shoot off that gun anywhere near the ranch buildings again, you can pack up and leave. I done told you before not to cause trouble.”

  Stubbs may have been short, but the warning in his voice and the stern look on his face had earned him the respect of the men working for him. He wasn’t the owner of the Circle P, but he was the foreman, and no one crossed him. He was firm, but also fair.

  “Yes, sir,” the man called Hank grumbled. “The Injun was just showin’ us some horsemanship skills. No harm done.” He shot a hate-filled glare at Lance, then sauntered off toward the bunkhouse that stood beyond one of the barns.

  “Those two bothering you?” Stubbs turned his attention to Lance. The foreman faced him squarely, but had to raise his head to look up at him.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Lance forced a smile. Things had been going well at his new place of employment. He liked the way the ranch was run, and he liked Stubbs. Those two cowpunchers might force him to move on sooner than he’d intended.

  He gripped the leather lead rope tighter. The colt stood patiently next to him, but suddenly its head snapped up and it whinnied. Lance and Stubbs both turned their heads to the sound of buggy wheels squeaking and coming to a halt in front of the main house.

  Mrs. Patterson, the owner’s wife, came out of the house and hurried down the porch stairs, loudly greeting her guests. An older man dressed in a gray suit and wearing a tall hat stepped down from the driver’s seat. He moved around the back of the buggy and reached his hands up, helping a woman disembark. She looked to be much younger than the man, judging by the way her hair hung down her back from under the bonnet she wore.

  The rancher’s wife first wrapped her arms around the man, then the young woman who, by her stiff posture, looked decidedly uncomfortable. Her back was turned, making it impossible to see what she looked like, other than she was of a slight stature. Her auburn hair flowed in waves halfway down her back and shimmered like the color of the colt’s coat that stood next to Lance.

  Mrs. Patterson’s husband emerged from the house and greeted the guests, then she put her arm around the young woman’s shoulder, leading her up the stairs and into the house. Mr. Patterson and the older gentleman lifted a traveling trunk out of the buggy and followed the women.

  Lance’s eyes narrowed as the young woman disappeared inside the house. He hadn’t seen her face, but her rigid stance and reluctance to return Mrs. Patterson’s embrace was odd. Even from a distance, she’d looked like a flighty colt that had just been caught and forced into a holding pen, terrified of what might happen to her.

  He shook his head to dissolve the image in his mind. He had no business looking at the ranch owner’s house, and especially not at any of the women. If he so much as looked at a white woman, he might as well say his last prayers. Men like those two cowpokes would use any excuse to string him from a tree.

  Stubbs’ voice brought him fully back to his senses. “You’re a good horseman, Taggart, that’s why the boss agreed to let me hire you on. You came with some very high recommendations. Tyler Monroe is one of the most respected horsemen in the state of Montana and he was sorry to lose you.”

  Lance simply nodded. There was no reason to tell the foreman that he didn’t like to stay in one place too long. He’d enjoyed working at the Double M Ranch for Tyler and Laney Monroe. It had been the one place he’d remained the longest since he’d been on his own. However, when Tyler had asked him to be his foreman, he’d declined.

  The Double M had contracts with the army, and while he hadn’t had to deal with them as a wrangler, he would have been expected to interact with them as the foreman. The US cavalry was something he wanted to stay far away from. Just the thought of seeing a man in uniform sent anger surging through him. Ultimately, the possibility of being asked to help deliver horses to the army had been his reason to finally leave. Lance’s grip on the leather lead line tightened.

  “Jes keep your nose clean, and stay clear of men like Hank Marvel and Fred Hanson.”

  Lance smirked. “I learned a long time ago to ignore men like those two.”

  Stubbs lifted a hand to Lance’s arm. “I know it ain’t easy for you, Son. Men like that would just as soon shoot you than get to know you. They’re the kind of men who like to stir up trouble, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ve had a mind to talk to the boss about letting them go. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “I know how to handle myself.” Lance nodded to the shorter man. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do. I can’t put this horse away thinking what he’s thinking, or all my efforts this week with him will be wasted.”

  Stubbs looked at the colt. “Patterson has high hopes for this animal. Thinks he can win some money with him.”

  “He’s fast,” Lance agreed. “But he won’t run until he learns to trust people. Someone started him wrong, and whatever’s been done to him will take some time to undo.”

  Stubbs chuckled. “And I know you’re the man to fix him. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He moved to head in the same direction as Hank and Fred, then stopped and raised his eyes to Lance one final time. “Let me know if those two give you any more trouble.”

  Lance nodded. He didn’t need another man to fight his battles for him. He’d taken care of himself most of his life, and wasn’t going to start asking anyone for help now.

  He parted ways with the foreman, leading the colt to a different pen, but not before his eyes traveled once more to the main house as the vague image of the young woman stayed in his mind.

  Chapter Two

  “My goodness, you’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady. It is so good to finally have you here, Eleanor.”

  Ellie forced a reserved smile at her Aunt Fiona, a woman who was a stranger to her. Her heart hadn’t stopped galloping in her chest since the stage that had brought her and her father to Elk Lodge had come to a stop in the dusty street of the small town. It was even worse now that they’d arrived at her aunt and uncle’s Circle P Ranch.

  There hadn’t been any time to really look at her surroundings when they’d arrived at their f
inal stage stop in town. Father had rented a buggy at the livery for the day, and set off on his way out of town to the Circle P. From what Ellie had seen, it hadn’t looked much different from any of the other towns in which they’d stopped during their journey from Fort Peck.

  She’d only stepped foot inside one of the merchant stores during the trip, hanging on her father’s arm while he made some small travel purchases. He’d bought a new sketchbook and pencils for her since her current one only had two blank pages left, and her lead pencil was nothing but a stump.

  “You’ll be well taken care of with your aunt and uncle while I conduct my business in Kentucky.” Her father had patted her arm and offered a comforting smile after helping her into the buggy. He must have seen the nervousness in her eyes. With a wide smile, he’d added, “Besides, it’ll be good to have a woman to talk to rather than your old father.”

  How many times had he told her the same thing already? Those words, meant to reassure, had done nothing to ease her tension. She’d never been apart from her father, and the thought of staying with relatives she didn’t know scared her more than traveling with her father.

  He’d told her that remaining in Montana was better than accompanying him to Kentucky. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Why would he ship her off to stay with her mother’s sister, a woman she’d met once when she was perhaps five years old? Ellie had no recollection of her aunt or uncle.

  “You’re going to love it here,” Aunt Fiona continued, ushering her up the porch stairs and into the big ranch house. “I had new curtains and quilts made for the spare bedroom just for you. I hope you’ll like the pattern.”

  Ellie’s father followed with the other man, who had been introduced as Uncle John. They carried her trunk into the entry of the ranch house. Ellie’s eyes widened as she looked around. She’d truly stepped into a different world from the one she’d always known. This house was a far cry from the soldier barracks and officers’ quarters at Fort Peck. Although her father, as commanding officer, had enjoyed a private residence and she’d had her own room, this two-story home looked like a palace in comparison.