His Prairie Duchess

by Kit Morgan

  Table of Contents

  His Prairie Duchess (Prairie Brides, #3)

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  ANGEL CREEK PRESS

  His Prairie Duchess

  2013 by Kit Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press

  Canstock.com

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people without the specific consent of the publisher. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not given to you as part of an authorized lending program, please delete and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  One

  Clear Creek, Oregon 1858. Thirty-eight days until the Duke’s stipulated deadline.

  On the First day...

  Cozette Duprie was up a tree.

  She always did like the sound of that. How her name so easily rhymed with what came naturally to her. For if not a tree she would climb something else. A ladder. A lattice. And most recently the backside of a building. Albeit with the help of her father’s grappling hook. It was getting down that proved to be more difficult. But she suffered fewer injuries than the Dunnigan girl she rescued, so all in all Cozette couldn’t complain. She just hoped her latest feat didn’t draw too much attention to herself. That, of course, was the last thing she needed. For either herself or her father.

  She settled in amongst the branches and watched as a wagon train slowly wound its way across the prairie in the distance. It would set up camp most likely. She heard Mr. Van Cleet tell her father they often camped a mile or so south of town to rest and restock any supplies before continuing on to Oregon City. Unfortunately for this wagon train, any restocking of supplies might prove difficult. The mercantile in Clear Creek burned down three weeks ago.

  Cozette glanced at her bandaged hand. Her father had tended the burns she’d incurred while rescuing Belle Dunnigan and they were healing nicely. In fact, today she could take the bandage off, but would wait until she returned to camp outside of town to do so. Watching the wagon train was more interesting. Especially since this one seemed a bit odd.

  It wasn’t very big, only six wagons in all. But that wasn’t what was different. It was the fact the wagons were pulled by draft horses instead of oxen. Perhaps they hadn’t traveled far and so used horses instead. They could be coming from the Wyoming territory, or lost their oxen and could only get horses to replace them. Whatever the reason, Cozette enjoyed watching as they stopped and began to set up camp. She often wondered what it would be like to travel with a wagon train for months and spend time with families around a nightly campfire.

  But then, Cozette often wondered what it would be like to do a lot of things.

  Like wear a dress with a pretty hat, one with lots of flowers and feathers. Or shop in a mercantile for a bonnet covered in ribbons. Maybe have her very own house. One with wallpaper covered in delicate flower petal designs and furniture with colors to match. And lace, lots of lace. She loved to study the intricate designs of it. She was highly attracted to the delicate patterns of china and fine cloth as well. She wanted to cook something on a stove instead of over a campfire and be able to bake something in an oven. But what Cozette wanted most of all, was to sleep in a bed. A real bed. All the rest of her days.

  She often imagined a huge four poster canopied bed, one fit for a Queen. With lots of pillows and a mattress she could sink into and lose herself night after night in dream-filled slumber.

  Cozette sighed. For a dream is all it was. And probably always would be.

  Not that her current life was horrible, it wasn’t. She was free, incredibly so. She didn’t suffer the conventional constraints other women had. She could hunt, fish, shoot, and if need be... kill. She’d even helped her father take down a buffalo.

  But none of it seemed to matter when the gnawing began. A pulsating yearning that started in the deepest part of her, and would soon grow until she laid upon her bedroll at night and wept in silence. Her voice wouldn’t even produce a decent sob. But then, her voice hadn’t produced anything for years. It died, along with the rest of her hopes and dreams, the night her mother died. A night Cozette wished she could forget.

  Maybe if she did, she’d get her voice back.

  Her father didn’t know about her ‘spells’ as she came to call them. And because he never heard her suffering in the middle of the night, he most likely wouldn’t come to know. But the spells came more frequently of late, and she wished she knew what caused them. And they were getting worse, the something that gnawed away at her heart, the deep longing. But for what?

  Perhaps she missed her mother. Yes, that was probably it. But to think of her mother brought great sadness, and Cozette feared the memories that came to haunt her in the dark of night. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to see in her mind’s eye the horrible things that happened to her mother, or remember the sounds of her screaming...

  Cozette closed her eyes and forced what memories to still. She concentrated on watching the wagon train set up camp instead and wondered how long they would stay before moving on. And no doubt her father would have her remain hidden for as long as it took them to do so. But at this point in her life, she'd grown used to it.

  * * *

  Duncan sat and let his head hit the wooden surface of the desk. Again.

  He’d retreated to the ranch house’s study not long after the wedding party arrived and had been there ever since. So far, his brothers let him alone. They were too busy with the wedding guests and carrying out Horatio’s constant barrage of orders. The man ran things like a seasoned Colonel and soon had everyone settled in and armed with a glass of lemonade in one hand and a fork in the other. In moments Duncan was sure he’d hear Horatio shout, “Charge!” Followed by the sound of clinking plates and glasses as the wedding supper got underway.

  But Duncan Cooke, correction -Duncan Mackenzie Sayer- had no appetite. He wondered if he ever would again. The enormity of the news delivered to him not an hour ago began to sink in. Really sink in. And what recollections he had about his cousin, Anthony Sayer the Earl, were so scattered he didn’t think he’d be able to make sense of any of them. There was of course Anthony’s commission in the army, and then the East India Company. His father the old Earl had died while Anthony was in India. He’d come home after his death, or was it before? And why did he go back to India? And did he meet and marry his wife there or not? And blast it all! He just couldn’t remember how a crocodile fit into any of it! But one did, he was sure, as his mother always laughed and laughed when she told that part of the story. But Duncan couldn’t think straight, and couldn’t remember wha
t exactly the story was. Nor why he needed to.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  Duncan looked up to see his brother Colin standing in the doorway. He sighed, no words at the ready, and stared at his newly married sibling. Colin and Belle Dunnigan, along with Horatio Jones and his new bride Teresa, had been married that very afternoon in the first double wedding Clear Creek had ever seen. And if Duncan didn’t have a wedding before the five-week deadline as per the pile of documents scattered on the desk, the title and estate of their illustrious fourth cousin Anthony Sayer would have to go to Colin. The only problem with that of course, was Colin didn’t want it. Nor did their younger brother Harrison.

  Who knew having their father’s dreams come true could be so complicated? Their father wanted a thriving cattle ranch out west in America. It had just become a reality. Their parents also dreamed that one day Duncan, by some slim chance (as in, a-down-right-bloody miracle) would inherit the title and estate from their fourth cousin the Earl. Only the Earl had become a Duke. And now the Duke was dead. As were the rest of Duncan’s cousins in line to inherit. All dead before their time, most of them tragically so. He supposed part of what bothered him was exactly how they came to such untimely ends.

  “Belle and I understand if you don’t want to join the feast.” Colin said quietly. “It’s all so very hard to take in. Especially to have it delivered the way it was. Not to mention the stipulations involved.”

  Duncan began to drum his fingers on the desk. “Stipulations indeed. One of which I still don’t find possible. But your wife seems to think differently.”

  “Do you want me to bring her to you?”

  “No, enjoy your wedding day. I’ll not have this business spoil it. I apologize for my absence. It is, as you say, a lot to take in. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Colin smiled. “Take all the time you need. Horatio has everything well in hand. Even Jefferson crawled out of his cabin and is watching from his porch.”

  Duncan let loose a small chuckle. “I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever come out.”

  Indeed, they all had wondered. Their stepfather had locked himself away in his cabin the night the mercantile burned down. To this day Duncan and Colin still wondered if Jefferson was one of two riders they saw gallop out of town just as the fire broke out. But by the time they returned to the ranch, Jefferson was already there and asleep no less. Colin had been so relieved Belle was safe he didn’t pay much mind to Jefferson. Duncan was in the same state about Colin. Both he and Belle had almost lost their lives that night. By a sheer miracle they were both rescued and by the least likely pair of heroes. That of the French trapper Duprie and his mute son. When Belle had finally told them what happened no one could believe it. Unfortunately the Dupries had gone up into the hills to hunt the very next day and no one got the chance to thank them. Mr. Van Cleet assured every one they'd be back soon, that they could be gone for a few weeks but would return. Belle especially seemed anxious as to their whereabouts but let the matter rest along with everyone else. They’d be back eventually, just as Mr. Van Cleet said.

  Colin went back to his wife and wedding guests. Duncan sat a few more minutes then got up from the desk and left the study. Tables were set up outside the ranch house for the wedding supper and everyone had formed a line where several of Horatio’s household servants from the Big J were busy dishing up plates of food. Including Logan Kincaid, the ranch foreman who came to help the three brothers with their new stock. Of all the times for this bloody Duke business to happen! Now Duncan would have to leave Mr. Kincaid saddled with more work than he anticipated. That is if Duncan had to leave to take care of any business at all.

  He searched the familiar faces of Clear Creek until his eyes fell on the one face not so familiar. Thackary Holmes, the Duke’s fifth cousin. The man who would get it all should Duncan be unable to adhere to the last wishes of the Duke. That the heir to the title be married in order to inherit. A state in which Duncan was sadly lacking. But then, so was Mr. Holmes as far as he knew.

  Or had he a wife and she hadn’t accompanied him to the Oregon territory? It would, after all, have been a rather hard journey for an English lady to endure. At least the kind Thackary might be married to. But Duncan could be wrong, and hoped he was. That meant old Thackary would have to be looking for a wife as well.

  Good luck with that.

  Duncan smiled at the thought and went to get something to eat.

  Soon he had a plate in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other and wound his way through the mingling townsfolk to the table set up for his family. Colin and Belle were seated near the center with Harrison and Sadie on one side, Duncan next to them and a chair set aside for Jefferson. But Jefferson sat on his cabin's porch to watch the affair from a distance. On the other side of Harrison and Sadie sat Horatio and Teresa, along with Wilfred and Irene Dunnigan.

  Mrs. Dunnigan had been remarkably quiet ever since Anthony Sayer’s solicitor announced Duncan was to be the next Duke of Stantham. She must still be in a state of shock. It was the only explanation. And she surely wasn’t the only one.

  The solicitor, Mr. Ashford, had found a couple of seats at a table with the Turner family and spoke in low tones with Thackary Holmes. The way the two were acting made Duncan wonder if they weren’t in cahoots together and plotting how to get their hands on the title. The thought chapped Duncan’s hide and he seethed just looking at them. He didn’t trust either one. If Thackary didn’t come across as such a foppish cad, he’d gladly hand the whole deal over lock, stock, and barrel. But it was obvious that’s exactly what the perfumed dandy wanted that irked Duncan to no end. He not only wanted it, he was also obviously prepared to go to great lengths to get it. His presence in Clear Creek was proof enough. He wanted to ensure first hand if the title and estate was to be his or not.

  Duncan tried to force thoughts of the two men from his mind and concentrate on the food in front of him. But his appetite was still nowhere to be found and he picked at his supper and barely touched his lemonade.

  “Duncan, are you saving room for cake?” Belle asked.

  Of course, he might be able to handle cake...

  “I hear it’s going to be incredible.” She added.

  Incredible hopefully meant chocolate...

  “And I’m sure it will sooth your nerves.”

  She could say that again!

  “I have the solution to your problem,” she said softly, “but we can’t talk about it here. I wanted to tell you at the church, but thought it best to speak in private.”

  “You thought right. But I already know there is no ready solution to the problem.”

  “But there is.”

  He turned to her. Colin sat on the other side of Belle, a mouth full of food, and casually eyed Mr. Ashford and Mr. Holmes as if Belle and Duncan’s conversation was nothing of importance. Harrison was doing the same thing. But the two brothers were just as curious as Duncan concerning Belle’s earlier disclosure at the church. Namely, that an unmarried female resided in Clear Creek.

  “I have only one question for you, Belle,” Duncan began as he reached for his lemonade. “You know what it is I wish to ask.”

  “Indeed I do.” She leaned toward him as he began to take a sip, and disclosed the answer to his unspoken question of who the mystery woman might be, in his ear.

  Duncan immediately spewed lemonade everywhere and began to cough. Belle and Colin quickly aided him by getting him up and steering him toward the house. Harrison and Sadie stepped over to help.

  “He’ll be fine!” Harrison called out. “Enjoy your supper everyone. The cake is next!”

  A cheer went up from the townsfolk at the announcement and they happily went back to eating. All but Mr. Ashford and Thackary Holmes, who watched the Cookes' hurry to the ranch house.

  * * *

  “The Duprie boy!” Duncan croaked between coughs. “Are you bloody well out of your mind?”

  Harrison and Colin stood by in s
hock, their mouths half open, and stared at Belle. Sadie had froze in mid-stride, a glass of water in her hand for Duncan, and waited for her to explain.

  “I’m telling you, it’s the truth. He’s a she, and she rescued me that night. She didn’t want me to tell, but this situation calls for it. Face it Duncan, she’s the only chance you have of inheriting your cousin’s title and estate.”

  Duncan coughed a few more times, took the glass of water from Sadie’s hand and took a long swallow. “But... but she’s like a wild animal, and... and she smells!”

  “Not to mention she can’t even talk.” Colin put in. He took the glass from Duncan, drained it, and handed it back.

  “I dare say, one would never know she was a girl.” Harrison said softly, his shock still quite evident as he stared straight ahead. “How did none of us see it before?”

  “Enough dirt and buckskins to cover her up and how would anyone know?” Belle stated with a shrug.

  “But why would her father dress her as a boy?” Sadie asked.

  “Maybe he did it to protect her,” suggested Belle. “Mr. Van Cleet told me they spent a lot of time out in the wilderness with the Indians.”

  “If she were my daughter I’d keep her disguised as a boy,” added Colin. “Men too long without a woman can do foolish things. Like kill a father just so they can get their hands on the daughter.”

  “Or the mother,” Harrison added.

  The three brothers looked at one another. They remembered what it was like after their father died. Their mother refused to give up his dream of coming out west to raise cattle and was determined to find a way. They also remembered the many men whom offered assistance. But their idea of assistance was to simply bed her, then leave her. Wise to their ways she steered clear of such men until she found safety with Jefferson Cooke. He’d lost his wife recently and needed a wife to settle down with when he got out west. She’d just lost her husband and had to have one in order to travel with the wagon train. Her sons were not yet counted as men. So the two came to an agreement seeing each had something the other needed, and married. Without Jefferson’s protection on the Oregon Trail, who knows what would have become of her.