Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by BAUER, Pamela

  “What if something neither one of us has any control over separates us?” he asked.

  She finally looked at him. “You mean death?”

  He nodded, knowing that if he went back to 1876, he certainly would be dead in 1998. The problem was, would Hannah and her lawyers know?

  “The only way I lose the inheritance is if you and I divorce or legally separate. So you see, I really am dependent on your good faith. I’m the one who loses everything should you decide to drift.”

  “Is that what you think I am? A drifter?”

  “I don’t want to think that.”

  She slammed a stack of plates into the sink and turned to face him. “Look, this is not an easy decision for me to make.”

  He could see she was trembling. “You’re not scared, are you?” He hadn’t thought of her as being afraid of anything.

  “Of course I’m scared,” she said in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

  Despite his resolution not to touch her, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. “There’s no need to be. I’d never hurt you, Hannah,” he said softly against her hair. “You have to trust me. This will all work out.”

  They stood in each other’s arms, as if seeking reassurance from each other. It felt so right to have her warm body close to his that Wood placed a kiss on the top of her head. Then on her forehead, her temple, her cheek.

  When he would have captured her mouth, she pulled back. It was the slightest of hesitations, but all that Wood needed to remind himself that he had promised there would not be a physical side to their relationship.

  He released her. “Forgive me. I have overstepped my bounds. You have my word. That will never happen again, and I will do everything in my power to see that you are not compromised.”

  “Forget it,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away from him. Without another comment on the subject, she reached for her hat. “We need to get to work. Just because it’s raining doesn’t mean there isn’t work to be done.”

  He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I thought you said we need to go get the marriage license.”

  She rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. “We can go after lunch.”

  Wood could see by her attitude that it was just another day to her. He reminded himself that he would be wise to keep that in mind. The marriage was nothing but an arrangement—nothing more, nothing less.

  As he watched her slip on her rain jacket, he only hoped that this arrangement didn’t backfire on both of them.

  “Aren’t you coming outside?” she asked when he made no move to put on his jacket.

  “In a minute. I need to talk to Gabby first,” he answered.

  She nodded, then headed for the machinery shed where she told Wood she would be waiting for him. One of the trucks needed an oil change.

  But Wood’s thoughts were not on mechanics. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about. He had thought he only had to stay in 1998 five more days, that once he had signed the marriage certificate, Hannah would get her inheritance and it wouldn’t matter if time sent him back to 1876.

  Now he had learned that he needed to be in 1998 for one year or his marriage to Hannah would net her nothing. Would he still be on the Davis farm a year from now? There was only one question that took priority.

  How in the hell was he going to get divorce papers from the nineteenth century?

  Chapter Twelve

  “We have a problem, Gabby,” Wood announced uneasily.

  “Hannah says I need a copy of my divorce decree in order to get a marriage license.”

  “Oh, that is a problem, isn’t it?” She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table. “Maybe there’s a way around that. Let me call Janell over at the courthouse.”

  Wood waited while she made the phone call, wondering what all the “aha‘s” and “oh I see’s” meant. He soon found out.

  “Janell said that you don’t need a divorce decree when your ex-wife is dead. She would be dead now, right?” Wood nodded and she added. “Then all you need is a copy of the death certificate.”

  “Which is just as hard to get as the divorce decree.”

  Gabby raised a wrinkled hand. “Wait a minute. I haven’t told you everything. You only need the death certificate if she died within the last twelve months.”

  Wood’s face brightened. “Then I don’t have a problem.”

  “I’m afraid you do. You still need either a driver’s license or a birth certificate.”

  Wood groaned.

  Gabby tapped one bony finger against her lips in contemplation. After several moments, her eyes lit up. “I think I have an answer,” she stated simply.

  “You want me to get a driver’s license?”

  “No, there’s not enough time. What you need is a new birth certificate. One created especially for you.”

  Wood could hardly believe his ears. “You think we should forge one?”

  “Not us. Wait here.” She disappeared from the kitchen only to return a few minutes later carrying a skinny little blue book. “Look at this.”

  Wood read the title. How to Find a New Identity. He leafed through the large print and came to the conclusion it was a handbook for criminals. “Where did you get this?”

  “At a flea market.” She quickly added, “Not as in fleas that make dogs scratch. Flea market is a term used for a sale which is usually an open market that has second-hand things. Being a collector of books, I thought it was rather interesting that someone could actually publish a book on how to find a new identity.”

  “Maybe they should have titled it How To Get Away With Being A Crook,” he quipped.

  “There are legitimate reasons for wanting a new identity,” Gabby said naively.

  “Like mine?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “It sounds rather risky.”

  “The book claims it’s foolproof.”

  Wood wasn’t as convinced as Gabby. “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “How can it not work? So what do you think? Do we do it?”

  “We?”

  “I’m going to help.”

  Wood felt a bit guilty at the thought of dragging such an innocent old woman into such an unsavory business. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Gabby took the book from his hands and flipped through the pages. After a couple of minutes of reading she said, “It’s just as I thought. We’re going to have to go to the city.”

  “Stanleyville?”

  “No, Minneapolis. It’s a couple of hours away by car.”

  “But I have to work with Hannah this morning,” Wood reminded her. “And we’re getting the license this afternoon.”

  She glanced at her watch. “You let me handle Hannah. Go get your jacket and meet me out back, okay?”

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME since Hannah had wanted a man. After Jeremy’s father had deserted her, she had dated a series of men whom Gabby had labeled misfits. Hannah had agreed with her nomenclature, but for a different reason. Gabby, in her rose-colored glasses, hadn’t found fault with any of the men, but simply said the relationships didn’t work because Hannah’s personality hadn’t fit with theirs. Hannah wasn’t quite so charitable. She thought the men were simply misfits.

  With Wood she didn’t have such feelings. Partially because he was so unlike any of the men she had dated. He had made no promises, other than to uphold his end of the bargain—a bargain that included marriage.

  Only this was not going to be a real marriage. It was a sham. A fake. A scheme to get her grandfather’s money. The closer the hour drew near for them to exchange vows, the more uneasy Hannah became.

  Deception. She hated it. Her grandfather, as manipulative and eccentric as he had been, had written the terms of his will with no hidden agenda. He honestly believed that she needed a husband. That Jeremy needed a father.

  Now she was doing just what he wanted her to do—get married—but for all the wrong reaso
ns. Hannah knew that in one year’s time—if not sooner—Wood Harris would be gone. No man had ever stayed in her life for more than a year. Why should he be any different?

  Gabby had insisted Hannah and Wood not see each other on the day of the wedding. Both had worked in different fields. Jeremy and Wood had eaten their dinners in the bunkhouse while Gabby tried to coax food into Hannah at the house.

  Tired from the harvest and stressed from the emotional roller coaster her emotions had traveled, Hannah soaked in a scented tub, while Wood used the shower in the loft. Gabby carefully choreographed their movements, convinced that if they saw each other their marriage would be doomed.

  Hannah wanted to point out that it already was, but she didn’t have the heart to burst Gabby’s bubble. She knew her aunt actually thought pretty much the way Hannah’s grandfather had—that once Hannah married she’d fall in love with her husband. That’s why she did everything in her power to make the wedding a special event.

  She arranged for Marlis to come to the house to fix Hannah’s hair. The last person Hannah wanted to see on her wedding day was the hair stylist, but again, she gave in to the whim of her seventy-five-year-old aunt. Despite Marlis pumping her for information, Hannah found that having someone else wash and dry her hair was relaxing.

  However, as the hour approached for the ceremony to begin, her nerves continued to slowly unravel. Her uncertainty grew until just before she was to get dressed, panic threatened to overwhelm her.

  “I can’t do this, Gabby. You’re going to have to be my proxy at the wedding ceremony.” She clutched her stomach which she felt sure was going to erupt before long.

  Gabby clicked her tongue. “Hannah Marie Davis, you will do this with the dignity and grace you inherited from the long line of women in this family.” She opened the closet door and pulled out an ivory satin wedding dress. “Put this on. It was your mother’s.”

  Hannah fingered it lovingly. “Where did you find it?”

  “It’s been in the attic.” She fussed with the satin-covered buttons. “I had to steam it to get all the wrinkles out, but I think it’ll be all right.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t feel right about wearing it.”

  “Why on earth not? Your mother loved you. If she were here, she’d be giving it to you herself.”

  Hannah had to wipe a tear from her cheek. “She would be so disappointed in me if she knew what I was going to do.”

  “You shush. She would admire you for the courage you’ve shown these past three years.”

  “You don’t think it’s bad luck? I mean, look what happened to my parent’s marriage,” she said unhappily.

  “Just because your father left your mother doesn’t mean he didn’t love her,” Gabby insisted.

  Hannah stared at her. “Why do you always defend him? He left us because he didn’t want the responsibility of a wife and child. He wanted to do his own thing,” she said with a sneer.

  “He wasn’t as bad as you want to paint him to be,” Gabby answered. “I believe that had he not been killed in that car accident, he would have come back to both of you.”

  Hannah sighed. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  “No. Now let’s see how this is going to work.” She unbuttoned the dress and held it so Hannah could step into it.

  “How do you know it’s going to fit?”

  “We’ll make it fit...just like we’re going to make your marriage fit,” Gabby said quietly, pulling the satin bodice up and adjusting the sleeves over Hannah’s bare shoulders.

  “For a year you mean.”

  Gabby didn’t answer. She tucked and pinned while Hannah stood trembling. When she was finished, she turned Hannah around so that she faced the mirror and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  Hannah couldn’t get a single word past her throat. Standing before her was a bride—a beautiful bride. Her trembling increased.

  “Wood is going to be so surprised,” Gabby said gleefully. “He’s never even seen you in a dress.”

  The mention of Wood nearly caused Hannah to run for the bathroom. “I can’t do this, Gabby,” she cried, wringing her hands.

  Gabby grabbed a hold of her trembling fingers. “Yes, you can and you will. Think of Jeremy.”

  “I have thought of him, and that’s what’s so disturbing. He’s become fond of Wood. If Wood leaves after a year, what will that do to him?”

  “He won’t leave,” Gabby stated confidently.

  “The agreement is only for one year.”

  “He won’t leave,” Gabby repeated. There was a rap on the door.

  “Gabby, is Mom ready?” Jeremy’s voice called out.

  “We’ll be right down,” Gabby called back. Then she looked at Hannah and said, “If you don’t go through with this, tomorrow your grandfather’s inheritance will be gone forever.”

  Hannah swallowed with difficulty, then nodded. “I’m ready,” she said with more courage than she was feeling. When she would have walked out the door, Gabby stopped her.

  “Wait. Your headpiece.” Out of a floral box came a tiara made of baby’s breath and violets. Gabby carefully set it on Hannah’s blond curls. “That’s the something blue. This is the something borrowed.” She removed her gold watch from her wrist and handed it to Hannah. “You can’t wear that old work thing with a wedding dress.”

  Hannah unfastened the thick leather band of her digital watch and replaced it with Gabby’s slim gold bracelet. Then she hugged her aunt, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Hannah expected the justice of the peace would be in the living room. To her surprise, however, the house was empty. When she looked at Gabby, the old lady smiled and pulled her by the hand as if she were a child being dragged to school by her mother. Once they were outside, Hannah saw a horse-drawn buggy.

  “Whose idea was it to get this out of storage?” she asked as Jeremy offered his hand.

  “Probably the mice,” Jeremy gave his bow tie a tweak. “Come, Madam. Your pumpkin awaits,” he said with a formal bow.

  “I thought the ceremony was going to be here,” Hannah remarked when she and Gabby were both seated on the worn leather seat.

  “You said on the farm,” her aunt reminded her, clutching Hannah’s hands to still their trembling. “Relax. Everything will work out just fine.”

  Jeremy took them to the only field that hadn’t been harvested. There, with the setting sun painting a flaming backdrop of color, bronze corn stalks stood tall in the autumn air. However, it wasn’t nature that took Hannah’s breath away, but a man dressed in a black tuxedo.

  “When did he get the tux?” she whispered to Gabby.

  “That morning we went to the city. Doesn’t he look handsome!” Gabby gushed.

  “Yes.” Hannah’s voice was weak. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were moist. And if she wasn’t careful, she was going to cry. Partly because it was exactly the kind of wedding she would have arranged, had she been marrying for love. But more than that because when she saw Wood waiting for her, she realized that she wanted him to be marrying her for all the right reasons, and not for the sake of an old man’s will.

  As Jeremy stopped the carriage, Wood came to help them climb down. First Gabby, then Hannah.

  “You are a beautiful bride. I am truly a lucky man,” he said as he put his hands around Hannah’s waist and lifted her to the ground.

  His touch sent a tremor of pleasure running through her. “Thank you,” she croaked, still unable to find her voice.

  As Hannah linked arms with Wood, the sound of music filled the air. Jeremy had brought his boom box and was playing one of Hannah’s favorite country-western songs, John Michael Montgomery’s “I Swear.”

  “Considering everything that’s happened, I thought this would be a good spot for the ceremony,” Wood whispered in her ear as he escorted her to where the minister waited. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  She shook her head, too choked up to speak. Throughout the entire ceremony, sh
e felt as if she could cry. She didn’t know how she got through the vows. When Wood repeated, “As long as we both shall live,” her eyes met his. They looked sincere and determined, as if he truly wanted to stay married to her for as long as he lived. When he placed a thin gold band on her finger, he squeezed her fingers reassuringly, as if reaffirming his feelings for her.

  Hannah almost forgot that it was a fantasy until the minister pronounced them husband and wife and Wood made no attempt to kiss her. The marriage certificate was signed, good wishes were bestowed upon the newlyweds and Gabby, Jeremy and the minister hopped into the minister’s pickup and left.

  “I think they have a surprise planned for us,” Wood told her when Hannah would have protested them leaving.

  He pulled her by the hand over to the carriage, where, spread out on the ground was a plaid blanket. In the center was a bottle of champagne, two flutes, a knife and the smallest wedding cake Hannah had ever seen.

  Wood tugged on his ear. “I had a feeling the two of them had something up their sleeves.”

  “We don’t have to stay out here,” Hannah told him, feeling ridiculously embarrassed by the setup.

  “You don’t think they might feel bad if we...” His voice trailed off, as he waited for her to say something.

  “I suppose they might.” Hannah shifted, annoyed and uncomfortable. “Are you thirsty?”

  “My mouth is a bit dry,” he confessed.

  “Mine, too. I guess we might as well drink the champagne.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He reached for the bottle. “I’m not sure I know how to open this.”

  Hannah noticed a hand towel folded neatly beside the glasses. “You need to work the cork carefully.” She handed him the towel. “Put this over the top in case it pops.”

  Despite his insistence that he would probably spill it, Wood managed to open the bottle with little fuss. He filled both of the flutes, then made a toast.

  “To us.” His eyes held hers as their glasses clinked together, and Hannah, although she hadn’t even taken a sip, felt effervescent inside.

  “Mmmmm. It’s good,” she said, quenching the dryness and appreciating the warm fuzzy feeling the liquid produced.