Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by BAUER, Pamela

  “Oh, my!” Her hand flew to her mouth. Staring at her was a picture of Wood Dumler. Her narrowed eyes read the caption and the two-column story.

  “Oh my!” she repeated again. “This can’t be...it just can’t be,” she said, shaking her head. “Or can it?”

  She folded the clothes that had been in the dryer and placed them in the straw basket. Then she went upstairs.

  “Gabby, are you all right? You look awfully pale,” Wood remarked when he saw her coming. He hurried to relieve her of the burden. “What are you doing carrying that? Didn’t I tell you to wait for me to lift those baskets for you?” he gently scolded her.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, although her legs wobbled a bit.

  He could see that she was unsteady and helped her to a chair. “You better sit. Can I get you anything? Some water?”

  She shook her head, then reached out and patted him. First his arms, then his shoulders, his cheeks, his ears. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Gabby, what’s wrong?”

  She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the photocopy of the article. “I found this when I was washing your clothes.”

  Wood didn’t need to look at it to know what it was. Gabby’s face said it all. He sat down beside her, taking his hands in hers. “I don’t know why or how it happened. One moment I was in 1876, the next 1998.”

  “Then it’s true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my!”

  And for the second time in two days a Davis woman fell into Wood’s arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wood carried Gabby outside onto the porch where she could get some fresh air, setting her down on the swing.

  “Gabby, talk to me.” He patted her hand. “Come on, Gabby, wake up.”

  Befuddled, she opened her eyes and glanced at her surroundings. “Oh, Wood,” she said on a long sigh. “Thank goodness. I’m here. On the porch. That means it must have been a dream.” She giggled nervously. “Oh, you wouldn’t have believed the dream I had.” She straightened, patting her curls. “I was doing the laundry and...”

  Wood knelt beside her, once more taking hold of her hands. “Gabby, it wasn’t a dream.”

  “What?”

  “That afternoon you and Jeremy found me in your cornfield... I didn’t come from Nebraska. I came from the year 1876.”

  She gasped. “Oh, my! Hannah was right. You’ve escaped from a mental hospital, haven’t you?” She yanked her hands away from his, fear filling her eyes. “Where is Alfred Dumler? What have you done to him?” she demanded in alarm.

  “I’ve never met Alfred Dumler, and I don’t know why he never showed up that day,” Wood answered truthfully.

  “Then why are you pretending to be him?”

  She looked so fragile and confused, Wood was afraid she’d faint on him again. “Because I knew if folks found out who I really am, they would think I’m crazy, just as you do right now.”

  “But you must be crazy,” she whispered, her cheeks paper white. “No one can travel through time. That only happens on TV or in the movies,” she insisted, her lips quivering.

  “You saw my picture in the newspaper.”

  “So you look like some man from 1876.”

  “No, I am that man, Gabby. I know it sounds preposterous, but if you’ll listen, I will tell you how I think it all happened.”

  At first he thought she might say no. She looked as if she wanted to get to the nearest telephone and call Red Murphy.

  After a few minutes of contemplation, however, she said, “That’s why you were afraid to ride in the pickup—be—cause you had never even seen an automobile before, had you?”

  He shook his head. “Or a combine or a radio or TV or a computer.”

  “That newspaper accused you of doing some awful things.”

  “I could never hurt anyone. You believe that, don’t you?”

  She rose to her feet, swaying slightly. Wood automatically reached out to steady her. She didn’t push him away.

  “Come inside. If we’re going to talk, I think I’d better make me some tea.”

  ONE THING WOOD DISCOVERED that afternoon was that although Gabby appeared to be a bit dotty at times, her mind was as sharp as a tack. She pulled out history books and quizzed him about life in 1876 until she was satisfied that what he said was indeed the truth. Wood figured it helped that her great-grandmother’s personal diary mentioned the murder of George and Mary Nelson and how she believed an innocent man had nearly hung for the crime.

  That evening at dinner Gabby was unusually quiet, causing Hannah to worry that her great-aunt might be getting the same flu bug that had sent her to her bed. Gabby assured her she felt fine, that she simply had a lot of things on her mind.

  Wood could only hope that she wouldn’t tell Hannah everything they had discussed that afternoon. Although he had requested she not reveal how he had arrived at the Davis farm, she had made no promises. All she had said was that she needed time to think about what she should do next.

  That’s why he was surprised when she sought him out at the bunkhouse that evening. “We need to find Alfred Dumler,” she told Wood, the tone of her voice telling him she definitely thought it was an urgent matter needing their attention.

  “Gabby, if we do that, Hannah’s going to know I’m not Alfred,” Wood pointed out.

  “I don’t want to bring him here. I want to find him so that I can tell him not to come,” she explained.

  “You don’t need to worry about it, Gabby,” Wood told her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Jeremy found a letter from him.” Wood pulled the soiled envelope from his pocket and handed it to Gabby. “He found this in the cornfield just the other day. Apparently it had been there for some time. Jeremy thought it might have been dropped from the mail on that day when you first found me.”

  “It’s from Alfred Dumler,” Gabby said, noting the return address. “Then Jeremy knows you’re not Alfred?”

  Wood nodded soberly. “But he doesn’t know about the time travel.”

  Gabby unfolded the letter and read it. “Alfred says he’s been detained and perhaps I could let him know if October would be a better time.”

  “What are you going to do?” Wood asked.

  “I’m going to write and tell him not to come. We don’t need him. We have you.”

  “Then you want me to stay?”

  “I do. I like having you around,” Gabby admitted shyly. Then she looked Wood in the eye and asked, “The question is do you want to stay?”

  “I do.”

  “Does that mean you haven’t given up on our plan?”

  “I thought you would have given up on it by now.”

  She patted his hand. “Things happen for a reason, Wood. I believe you were sent here to help us save the farm.”

  He sighed. “Didn’t you see Hannah’s reaction when she found out about the ad?”

  “She was steamin’ mad.” Gabby chuckled. “I expected that. She hates the idea of marrying just to get the money, but I’m telling you, Wood, time is running out. You yourself heard her complain that corn prices are at an all-time low. If they don’t pick up, it could mean disaster for the farm.”

  Gabby looked at Wood as if he were some sort of knight in shining armor.

  “How can I make plans for a future here in 1998 when I have no way of knowing if I’ll be taken back to 1876?”

  “I might know of a way to find out the answer to that,” she told Wood.

  That piqued his curiosity. “What is it, Gabby?”

  She pulled a small square of newsprint from her pocket and handed it to him. “There’s a psychic coming to Spring Valley.”

  Wood read the advertisement, which claimed a Madame Duvalee knew the answers to questions you had about your past and future. “Do you know this person?”

  “Heavens, no. She’s from California. She’s on a tour and Creston is one of the places she’ll be. She’s giving a demonstration, but she’s
also going to be talking to people one-on-one.”

  “And you think I should go see her?”

  “Yes. She could have the answers you’re looking for regarding the time travel.”

  Wood wasn’t as confident as Gabby, but he didn’t believe he should rule out the possibility, either.

  “If you want, you can take my car,” Gabby offered. “Until then, you need to not waste a single minute of the time you do have with Hannah. You are a little bit in love with her, aren’t you?”

  “What man wouldn’t be?”

  “Then in the meantime, I suggest you stay out of thunderstorms.” She gave him an impish grin.

  Wood knew it was nothing to take lightly. The thought that at any moment he could be tossed into another time period kept him in constant uncertainty. Although Gabby wanted him to follow through as Hannah’s main-order groom, he knew it wasn’t an easy decision to make. The last thing he wanted to do was cause hardship for Hannah.

  Maybe it was a risk he needed to take. If he married Hannah, he could repay all of them for helping him during a time when he had nowhere else to turn. If he couldn’t save his sister, he could at least help the Davis family save their farm.

  As to whether time chose to be cruel a second time, he had no way of knowing. For now, he would do what he could to protect the folks he cared about. And he did care about Jeremy, Gabby and Hannah.

  Especially Hannah.

  He would be her mail-order groom. She would get the money, he would get to spend what time he had in 1998 with Hannah. Sounded like a fair exchange. Now all he had to do was convince her that she needed him to be her husband.

  DURING HARVEST, it wasn’t uncommon for Hannah to eat her lunch in the field. Each morning she would fill the wooden picnic basket with food and the thermos full of cold lemonade, grab a lap robe from the closet and head for the gleaner.

  When Barry worked the fields with her, lunchtime was nothing more than two workers breaking for a bite to eat. With Wood, however, eating off a blanket in the middle of a cornfield took on a new meaning.

  Hannah had always loved the peace and solitude of being in a field of tall stalks of corn waiting to be harvested. It was one of her very favorite times of the year, when clouds drifted lazily in the autumn sky, and the corn glistened as if it were dusted with gold. The fact that Wood shared her sentiments only added to her enjoyment of the moment.

  Hannah wished she could stop thinking about how good it had felt to be in his arms. But every time those big hands picked up a sandwich or cradled a cup, she was reminded of how they had felt on her skin. As much as she wanted to deny it, working alongside Wood in such close proximity was a bittersweet experience.

  Adding to her discontent was the fact that Gabby had brought Wood here to be her husband. Hannah still bristled every time she remembered the reason Wood had kissed her was because he wanted to convince her to let him be her mail-order groom.

  She longed for the end of harvest. Once she no longer needed his help, she could let him go and put an end to her aunt’s misguided attempts to save the farm. She supposed she should be relieved that his true purpose for coming was finally out in the open. At least he had accepted that she had no interest in marrying anyone—inheritance or no inheritance.

  He had stopped flirting with her for one thing. Although he still opened doors and did all sorts of gentlemanly things, he gave her no indication that he still hoped to become her partner.

  That’s why she was so stunned when one afternoon during lunch he brought up the subject.

  “I happen to agree with Gabby on this whole issue of your inheritance,” Wood said casually, trying not to put Hannah on the defensive.

  She gulped the remainder of her sandwich. “I would suspect you do.”

  “Marriage is not a prison,” he said earnestly.

  She chuckled sarcastically. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I have been married.”

  “And correct me if I’m wrong. It didn’t work out.”

  She was a tough one. Wood had to grant her that. “Only because we didn’t have a common goal.”

  “Oh, and you think we do?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, even though you don’t want to admit it,” he answered, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and show her just how much in common they had.

  “I thought we had settled all of this when I told you you could stay on through harvest,” she said wearily.

  “We did, but I believe the subject merits reconsidertion.”

  “Why?”

  “For two reasons. One is your financial situation.”

  That touched a raw spot in Hannah. “Wait a minute. If you think I’m going to marry you so that I can get my grandfather’s money, you’re one hundred percent wrong. First of all, I don’t need that money, and no matter what Gabby’s told you, I’m not going to lose the farm if I don’t get it. Secondly, there are any number of single men in Filmore County I would consider before I married a man I hardly know.”

  “But you haven’t married any of the men in Filmore County—not even Red Murphy,” he reminded her calmly although he felt anything but calm.

  “And I’m not going to marry you!” She tossed her empty plate into the lunch basket with more force than was necessary.

  “Is it not true that if corn prices remain where they are now, you are going to suffer the biggest loss ever?”

  “Yes, but I’ll get through it. Farmers have bad years and survive.”

  “And sometimes they lose their farms. Hannah, you can eliminate that risk by getting married,” he argued.

  “I could but I won’t,” she said stubbornly.

  “You’re going to just let all that money go to a charity?”

  “Gabby told you about the deadline?”

  “Yes. You have exactly nine days left.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to comply with my grandfather’s wishes just to get money.”

  He leaned back, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth as he said, “The way I see it, this isn’t about money. It’s about the struggle your family’s endured to keep their land, to not surrender to grasshoppers or droughts or floods. It’s about your heritage, Hannah, something that’s so important to you that you’re willing to bust your back working rather than accept your grandfather’s money.”

  “Don’t you mean submit to his terms?”

  He pointed a finger at her. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You talk as if you’re in a duel with him, trying to prove that you can outlast him.”

  “I am.” Her eyes flashed passionately.

  “He’s dead, Hannah!”

  “It doesn’t matter. If I marry, he wins.”

  He threw up his hands in frustration. “You are one stubborn lady.”

  “I think it’s a ridiculous idea—marrying someone in order to collect an inheritance.” She scooped up the remains of their lunch and tossed them into the picnic basket. When he tried to fold the blanket for her, she snatched it out of his hands. “I can do this myself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And quit calling me ma’am.”

  He stilled her busy hands and looked in the eyes. “What part of respect is it that you dislike?”

  She looked suitably chastised. “Most men I know don’t treat women the way you do.”

  “They should.”

  She pulled her hands away from his. “I think we’re straying from the topic of conversation.”

  He sighed. “On the subject of marriage, here’s the way I see it. You can marry me, collect your inheritance, and nothing has to change. You have my word that I won’t make any claims on you financially.”

  She thrust a hand to her hip. “Are you saying you’d sign a prenuptial agreement?”

  “A what?”

  “A contract saying that what you bring into the marriage is what you take out,” she explained.

  “I’m not looking for money from you, Hannah.”

>   “What are you looking for?”

  “A place to stay. That’s the second reason why I think we should reconsider the marriage idea. You can use an extra man to help you, and I need a roof over my head.”

  “For how long?”

  He shrugged. “Until you want me to leave or until I figure out a way to find my sister. It would essentially be the same setup we have now, except you would be able to eliminate a great deal of your debt.”

  She bristled at his statement. “And what would you know about my debt?” She shook her head. “I should have known. Gabby.”

  “I do have eyes and ears,” he reminded her with a wry grain.

  “You talk as if marriage isn’t a serious legal contract. Most couples know each other for years before they marry. I know so little about you, yet you expect me to trust you enough to enter a marriage.”

  Wood knew that she had a valid point. Ever since he had arrived at the farm he had been keeping things from Hannah. For a good reason, but he had still been deceptive.

  “Forgive me if I haven’t been completely truthful with you, Hannah,” he said sincerely.

  “I’d like you to be direct with me right now, Wood. If you expect me to even consider a legal arrangement like the one you’re suggesting, I need some honest answers from you.”

  He sat back against his heels and spread his arms. “All right. I’ll do my best.”

  “What is your background? And don’t tell me farming. I know what your references say, but you are no farmer.”

  Wood knew that the time had come for him to reveal his past. If he was going to put her in a situation where she could one day have her husband drop out of sight, she needed to know why.

  He shoved his hands out in front of her, palms upward. “Most of the work these hands have done has been with numbers.”

  “You’re an accountant?”

  “No, a banker. At least I was at one time.”

  “A banker.” Hannah gazed at him in amazement. “No wonder you didn’t have a clue about the soybeans. You faked your references?”

  He took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m sure Alfred Dumler is a fine farmer. It’s just that I’m not Alfred Dumler.”