Whirlwind Bride

by Debra Cowan

  How was he supposed to answer that? “Well…”

  “Don’t worry. The misunderstanding is cleared up.”

  His gaze traced her slender curves. Silver-blond curls gleamed in the sun, revealing a long elegant neck. Her light vanilla scent drifted to him and his heart gave a hard kick. He squared his shoulders against the reaction.

  After his wife’s death four years ago, he’d focused all his attention on building the Rocking H with his father. A short three years after their marriage, Maddie had been suddenly wrenched from him, her life snuffed out when she’d lost her way in a dust storm and broken her neck. Riley hadn’t been interested in another woman since, nor had the inclination to find one who did interest him.

  He slowed as he neared the porch, while Susannah steamed ahead, sweeping past him and up the steps, her skirts brushing his boots.

  She bent to pick up two small valises, stuffing one under her arm and gripping the other in her hand. “Just what did my brother’s telegram say?”

  “That you were coming to Whirlwind.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.” He wondered what Adam had told Susannah. Before the sun set, he intended to find out. Whatever it was had convinced her to travel hundreds of miles to marry a man she didn’t know.

  Marriage?! Riley had thought he might swallow his teeth when she’d made that little announcement. He wasn’t marrying her. Not because she was the sister of one of his good friends, but because she didn’t belong here. Look at her! She was too soft, too delicate for life in the Texas plains. His past made him an expert on beautiful outsiders, especially those who believed they were strong enough to survive in this sometimes-merciless land. Hooking up with Susannah Phelps would be like carrying china on a cattle drive. Not smart. Not practical. He hadn’t built the reputation of the Rocking H by being stupid or impractical.

  “Humph.” She yanked at the strap on the largest trunk and stumbled backward.

  Riley cleared the steps in two strides and reached out to steady her. She regained her footing, straightened away from him.

  He eyed her mound of luggage incredulously. “Are all these yours?”

  She shot him a glacial look and shifted the valise under her arm, then grabbed the strap of the smallest trunk. The valise crashed to the ground.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving, of course.” As she bent toward her bag, he scooped it up.

  He glanced around. There was no horse or buggy. “Just exactly how did you get out here?”

  “Matthew Baldwin.”

  Matthew? Riley lifted a brow. Matt Baldwin hadn’t been called by his full name since they were fifteen.

  Puffing out a breath that lifted a stray curl over her forehead, Susannah reached for the valise he held, then wrapped the strap of the smallest trunk around her other hand. “There.”

  Dragging the piece behind her, she clomped down the steps, then stopped. She stared down the long, dusty road, past the crude log archway where he’d carved his rocking H. Did she think she was going to carry all that luggage? The three pieces she held now looked heavy enough to break her. She was so fragile and small-boned, Riley didn’t think she could carry even one of those valises all the way to town. He wanted to ask if she’d brought everything she owned, but he kept his mouth shut.

  Hefting the bag under her arm, she looked over her shoulder. “How far is Whirlwind?”

  “Three miles.”

  “Three…” After a long moment, she turned, lifting her chin. “I’d like to leave my luggage here, if you don’t mind. I’ll send someone for it.”

  “How are you planning to get back to town?” He couldn’t stand it anymore; he moved down the steps and reached out to pry the small trunk from her grasp, then slid it onto his shoulder. “Walk? I don’t see a horse.”

  “Oh, I don’t ride horses.”

  He grinned. “What do you do with them?”

  “I…” She blinked, then recovered. “Nothing.”

  “You certainly can’t walk all that way. I’d be more than happy to give you a ride.” He glanced at the two large trunks still on his porch. “And your luggage.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do. Fix your pump, for one.”

  “I’ve got time. I feel badly about what happened back there.” Not as badly as Adam was going to, though.

  “Let’s just forget that, shall we?” she asked primly.

  “Sure.” Remembering the hurt that had flared in her eyes when he’d laughed at her assumption of marriage, Riley felt his conscience twinge. “If you need anything while you’re in Whirlwind, anything at all, you let me know.”

  He reached out and took the valise from under her arm. The back of his hand brushed the underside of her breast, and she stiffened, her gaze flying to his.

  Damn.

  For an instant, they stared at each other.

  Susannah stepped away, nervously fingering the fastening of her cape. Her movement jerked him back to attention.

  His hand burned as if he were still touching her. She might be slight, but there was nothing wanting about those breasts, which were fuller than they appeared under her wrap. He turned for the barn. “Let me hitch Pru to the wagon. I’ll get you back to town.”

  Susannah Phelps wasn’t his responsibility, but she was the sister of his good friend. He would get her back to Whirlwind, even back to St. Louis. And he would get some answers in the process.

  After hitching the bay mare to the buckboard, he drove around to the front of the house and loaded Susannah’s trunks into the back. Lines of fatigue pulled at the magnolia-smooth skin around her clear blue eyes, tightened lips that were temptingly kissable. He wished he weren’t so aware of the exhaustion etched on her face, the slight droop to her shoulders, the careful stiffness of her movements as he handed her into the wagon. If she’d ridden the stage all day, and then Baldwin’s buckboard out to the Rocking H, she had to be sore. He hated riding in both contraptions.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered a touch impatiently.

  Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a blanket. He shook out the dust, then refolded it and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” Looking surprised, she gave him a grateful smile.

  She was a dandy, sleekly curved just like a Thoroughbred. Her creamy skin begged a man to touch it, see if it was as soft as it looked. Her eyes reflected every emotion like a pool of clear water.

  Hell. He pulled himself into the wagon and picked up the reins. Adam knew Riley would never marry again, certainly not a lady who probably couldn’t even lift a full bucket of water on her own. It took a special breed of woman to live here. Even those who could didn’t always survive. Riley’s own mother had been strong, had birthed two big sons, but she had died in her sleep two years ago. Her heart had just given out.

  His father, Ben, had passed last year, still grieving for Lorelai Holt. He’d built her this ridiculously fine house in the middle of the plains, and she’d lived in it less than three years.

  Already Susannah’s magnolia skin had reddened under the October sun and she looked about to wilt. Riley would take her to town, wire Adam to let him know his plan hadn’t worked. Whatever that plan was.

  Riley clucked to the horse and slid a sideways glance at Susannah. She sat straight and stiff as a rod next to him, her skirts pressed as tight to her as she could get them. Her other hand, white-knuckled, gripped the seat.

  “Adam’s been known to play a practical joke, but never anything like this.”

  She murmured something incoherent.

  “Why do you think he did it?”

  She glanced over, a sudden wariness sliding into her blue eyes. “I guess he had his reasons.”

  And she knew what they were, the little baggage! Riley knew by the set of her jaw as she turned away that she wasn’t going to tell him. He resented the flicker of admiration he felt at the sight of a little backbone. Little sister could keep Adam’s secrets. Rile
y would get his answers soon enough.

  The silence between them swelled. She looked uncomfortable and color rode high on her finely honed cheekbones.

  “Peppermint?” He offered her a short stick of the candy, fresh from his shirt pocket.

  Her gaze dipped to his hand, lingered on the sweet. “No, thank you.”

  He nodded and popped the candy into his mouth. He understood her embarrassment. Adam had put them both in an awkward position.

  They rode with only the noise of creaking wagon wheels and cawing crows until he topped a hill and saw Whirlwind sprawled out in front of him in its neat T-shaped layout. To the northeast, about eight miles from town, sat Fort Greer.

  “Where should I take you? Do you have a place to stay? I can get you a stage ticket to Abilene, so you can catch the train back to St. Louis.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He slid her a look. “I’ll take you to the Whirlwind Hotel. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean.”

  And Riley would pay for her room. He told himself that should’ve eased his conscience. He was doing what he could, what he should. She certainly couldn’t stay with him at the Rocking H, not without a chaperon.

  A hammer rang against metal as they approached a barn-like building at the edge of town, and Riley lifted a hand in greeting as he drove past Ef Gerard’s blacksmith shop. The burly man, with muscles bulging in his glistening, thick black arms, returned the wave. Blatant curiosity burned in his coffee-colored eyes as he caught sight of Susannah.

  Being a Friday afternoon, the town was still relatively quiet. There was no activity outside the livery or the saloon right across the street. Cowboys from nearby ranches or passing cattle drives would change that in a few short hours. They would come to town to spend their pay on whiskey and women, but Susannah would be safe inside the hotel.

  Businesses lined both sides of the double-wagon-width main street, with the church-cum-schoolhouse crowning the center point of the T, a north-south street aptly named North. Homes were scattered on either side of the steepled frame building. As his wagon ambled up Whirlwind’s main thoroughfare, Riley caught sight of his brother, Davis Lee Holt, in the sheriff’s office. Good. Riley wanted to talk to him.

  The mare plodded past Pearl Anderson’s restaurant, the Pearl, then the telegraph office, which also served as the post office. Across the street, Haskell’s General Store was doing a brisk business. On the same side as the saloon, the store was flanked by the newly opened Prairie Caller newspaper on one side and Cal Doyle’s law office on the other. A neat, tidy frame building on the corner was home to the other Doyle brother, Jed, a gunsmith.

  Easing the wagon to a stop in front of the hotel, Riley set the brake and looped the reins around the handle.

  Susannah reached into her reticule and offered him a silver dollar. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

  Immediately indignant, he growled, “Put that away.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t take your money,” he said evenly, not liking the way she made him feel like a hired hand.

  Irritation zipping through him, he hopped down and started around to help her down.

  “Miz Phelps!”

  Riley rounded the back of the wagon, halting when he saw J. T. and Matt Baldwin standing next to the wagon, both offering a hand up to Susannah.

  She smiled, erasing all fatigue from her face. “Hello, Mr. Baldwin, Matthew. How nice to see you again.”

  The warmth in her greeting to father and son stirred something deep inside Riley, and he felt an unfamiliar heat charge through his chest.

  The elder Baldwin elbowed his son aside. “Let me help you down, Miz Phelps. You boys get her luggage.”

  Russ Baldwin appeared suddenly beside his brother. While their father handed her down, the Baldwin brothers moved toward Riley and reached for the trunks in the back of the wagon.

  All three Baldwins easily had three to four inches on Riley’s six-foot height. Their broad shoulders and massive thighs made them the biggest men around; one or another of them won the arm-wrestling match every year during the Fourth of July picnic. But they were known to be gentlemen in every sense of the word. Riley had always liked them.

  The Baldwin men were more than capable, but shouldn’t he be the one responsible for making sure Susannah was settled?

  J.T. deposited her beneath the hotel’s green awning as carefully as if she were blown glass.

  “You’ve already had your visit with Riley?” Matt stepped onto the boardwalk, balancing a trunk on his massive shoulder.

  She didn’t so much as glance Riley’s way. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry I asked you to lug all my baggage out to his ranch, but I wasn’t sure where I’d be staying.” She gave the three men a blinding smile.

  They nodded, each grinning as if they’d tipped back a bottle of Pete Carter’s best whiskey. All kept their gazes locked on her with rapt attention. Riley frowned, but told himself to be glad that she hadn’t shared with them the real reason she’d come out to his ranch.

  “I’ll be staying here.”

  “Good,” both brothers said in unison.

  Riley’s jaw clenched as he turned to retrieve the remaining luggage.

  Russ, who had already unloaded the largest trunk, plucked the two valises from the wagon before Riley could. “How are things going at the ranch, Riley?”

  “Very well, thanks.” He smiled at Russ, trying to figure out why he was annoyed. He’d done the right thing by bringing her to town. She wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, he hadn’t even known she was coming to see him.

  The three men asked after Susannah’s health at least twice each, and she didn’t seem to mind at all. Clearing his throat, Riley said, “I’ll get you a room, Susannah.”

  She turned, gave him a cool smile that made her look regal and damn infuriating. “That won’t be necessary.”

  His lips tightened and he stepped up on the boardwalk. “I’ll be right back.”

  He returned a few minutes later and folded a room key into her hand. “Here you go.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Thank you.”

  Matt Baldwin swept off his hat. “Let me escort you inside.”

  Susannah smiled and took his arm.

  Russ shifted her valises to one hand and opened the hotel door.

  Gritting his teeth, Riley stepped down into the street, then climbed into the wagon. “I’ll check on you later.”

  “There’s no need. You’ve done enough.”

  If she didn’t wipe that haughty look off her face, he was going to come up there and do plenty more.

  He nodded and clucked to the mare, glancing over his shoulder when he heard Susannah’s light laughter mix with the deeper sounds of the Baldwins’. She didn’t even glance Riley’s way as he turned the wagon and headed back up the street. As if he were invisible, as if they hadn’t discussed marriage.

  She needed him about as much as a boar needed a teat. She was fine. He was relieved.

  Relief was the last thing he felt, Riley admitted as he braked the wagon in front of the post office a few moments later. Irritation, sympathy, even a grudging fascination flickered inside him, but not relief.

  He went inside to send a wire to Adam. With his blood doing a slow simmer, Riley found thoughts of Susannah harder to shake than a burr in his sock. When she’d realized he had no intention of marrying her, hurt had darkened her clear blue eyes. At the sight, a fierce protectiveness had flared in his chest. He seemed unable to squelch that, even after seeing her surrounded by the hulking Baldwins. Especially after that.

  At least she wasn’t planning to stay in Whirlwind. St. Louis was definitely the place for her. The brutal Texas climate, the unforgiving land, the isolation of ranch life whittled away at women like Susannah. This land had killed his Maddie, hadn’t it?

  After he’d turned eighteen, at his parents’ request, he’d spent a year in Boston at university. He hated that closed-up life, the air and sky squeezed out by buildings and coun
tless homes. Except for the friends he’d made—Adam Phelps being one of the best—Riley hadn’t liked anything about the big Eastern city.

  As Tony Santos read back his message, Riley thought about apologizing again to Susannah. But another apology, no matter how compelled to make one he felt, wasn’t going to erase the embarrassment between them, the awkwardness. Fishing another peppermint stick out of his shirt pocket, he broke off a section and slid it into his mouth.

  Cutting off further thoughts of the curvy blonde, he told the rotund telegraph operator he’d pay extra to have Adam’s reply delivered to the Rocking H as soon as it arrived.

  After he left, he walked past the Pearl Restaurant and to the jail for a quick talk with his brother. Davis Lee, older by almost three years, sat on the edge of his scarred, but polished desk, whittling. Wood shavings littered the otherwise spotless pine floor. A single door behind Davis Lee’s desk opened to the four cells of Whirlwind’s jail.

  Riley stepped inside the building and closed the front door, noting the quick peel and flash of Davis Lee’s knife. Davis Lee liked to whittle; he was good at it. But he only did it when something bothered him.

  “More trouble?”

  The eldest Holt, lanky and two inches taller than Riley, looked up with somber blue eyes. “Just came from Cora Wilkes’s house. The McDougal gang held up the stage today and killed Ollie.”

  “Damn. Anyone else?”

  “No. He’d just brought in three passengers and was headed to Abilene to pick up some supplies for the fort.”

  “They killed him on the way out of town?”

  “Yes.”

  That explained why Susannah hadn’t mentioned any trouble. Sharp relief stabbed at Riley’s chest.

  He removed his hat, hit by sadness at the stage driver’s death. “I’m sorry to hear about Ollie.”

  “Damn those McDougals. J. T. Baldwin happened upon the scene, sent Russ to town to let me know, but none of us could catch them.” Davis Lee stood, his wiry frame as taut as strung barbed wire. He and Riley had done their share of wrestling and fighting growing up. Despite the two inches in height he had on Riley, it was always a draw. “You should’ve seen Cora.”