Brides of the West

Michèle Ann Young ~ Kimberly Ivey ~ Billie
Warren Chai

_______

A Romance Anthology

Published by Highland Press Publishing at
Smashwords

Brides of the West

An Original Publication of Highland Press
Publishing - 2008

Satin and Snakeskin © Michèle Ann Young

Gray Wolf’s Bride © Kimberly Ivey

The Chances Are Bride © Billie Warren
Chai

Cover © 2008 Deborah MacGillivray

All characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation
whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual
historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are
pure invention.

Print ISBN: 978-0-9800356-4-3

Published by Highland Press Publishing

A Wee Dram Book

Dedication

My story in this Brides of the West Anthology
is dedicated to my husband Keith; after all, he did drag me West
when we first married.

He is my best friend, my greatest supporter,
and my hero, and without him I would not be able to create my
fantasy world or have so much fun in my life.

Michèle

~~~

For my husband and best friend, Jeff. You are
my one true love, my soul mate, my support and inspiration in
all that I do. Thank you for believing in me all these years and
for never letting me give up. I couldn't have made it
this far without you. This one's for you, baby.

Kim

~~~

My story,
The Chances Are Bride
,
is dedicated to my loving husband, Henry Chai, who has stood by my
side for twenty-seven years and gifted me with two beautiful sons,
Jonathan and Gideon. With love.

Billie

Contents

Satin and Snakeskin…………………………Michèle Ann
Young

Gray Wolf’s Bride…………………………..Kimberly
Ivey

The Chances Are Bride……………………..Billie Warren
Chai

writing as

Michèle Ann Young

Texas 1867

“Move a muscle, lady, and your days of
breathin’ are over.”

The deep voice pierced the fog of
Tess’
doze along with her numb buttocks,
her parched throat, and the sweat trickling between her breasts.
The lock of a weapon clicked.

She froze.

And she’d thought things couldn’t get
worse.

Slowly, not daring to breathe, she opened her
eyes and stared at a pair of dusty snakeskin boots planted five
feet from her rocky perch. Her gaze climbed lean, long muscular
legs encased in black pants, skimmed a belt slung low on narrow
hips, and encompassed a broad chest clad in pale blue soft cotton.
She paused at the wide-set shoulders steadying the rifle pointed at
her chest.

Not a comforting sight.

From beneath a large black hat, eyes the
shade of a clear winter sky and equally cool, stared unblinking
along the dull gleam of the barrel, his lean cheek and hard jaw
pressed against the stock.

Mouth dryer than the Texas dust she’d been
chewing on for days, she swallowed to create moisture. “Here. Take
my money,” she croaked and reached for the satchel at her side.

“That does it.”

***

Tess squeezed her eyes shut.

The explosion shattered the silence. Her ears
rang. Small objects peppered her arm, thigh, and temple. The acrid
taste of gunpowder hit the back of her throat.

Something long and soft flopped on her legs,
twisting and writhing, glistening gold and black.

A snake. She leaped off the boulder,
shuddering and brushing at her skirts. “Ooo,” she shrieked. “Get it
off me.”

The creature slid off the rock onto the dirt
and laid still, a limp sand-colored coil with black diamonds
running along its length. Dead. And headless.

She shuddered, her heart pounding as if she’d
run a mile.

The rifleman hooked the toe of his boot
beneath the disgusting thing and flicked it ten feet into a patch
of dry scrub. Another kick disposed of the remains of the head.
“Rattler.”

Feeling as damp as if she’d fallen into a
steam bath and just as breathless, she glared at him. “You scared
me half to death. Don’t you know better than to fire that thing so
close to a person?”

He tipped his hat back with one finger.

Her breath hitched as she caught the full
effect of the sun-bronzed square-cut jaw, firm lips and straight
nose. Her insides gave a twinge of approval.

Mercy. Since when did the sight of a pretty
man set her afire?

He narrowed those gorgeous blue eyes, a
furrow forming between straight dark brows. “Don’t you know no
better than to sit out here on a rock?”

Tess shook her head. “I’m waiting for
someone.” Her bridegroom.

A strange feeling churned in the pit of her
stomach. The only thing in sight from this crossroads, where the
stagecoach had dropped her, to the hazy blue horizon was this man
and the gig he’d driven up in while she slept.

Impossible. She was prepared for fat and
bald, or old and ugly, anything as long as he was kind. Never would
she have dared to imagine this epitome of rugged male beauty.

Tender and delicate, tendrils of hope
unfurled deep inside her, like seedlings after a spring rain.

She pushed back the sticky wisps of hair at
her temples and straightened her bonnet. What a sight she must look
after three days travel and goodness knew how long waiting in the
hot sun.

He removed his hat revealing thick,
slicked-back, dark hair, his expression nonplussed. “Ma’am.” The
deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her back. “Are you the
widder-woman, Mrs. Dalton?”

“Yes,” she managed in an awed whisper.

He ran a slow glance from her head to her
heels. “Ah, hell.” He banged the dust off his hat on his thigh.
“What was Tom Wilkins thinkin’?” He shook his head. “Honey, this
just ain’t gonna work.”

The tiny shoots shriveled, blasted by the
chill in his eyes. Tess swallowed what felt like ten hats worth of
dust. “You mean you really are...”

“Jake Redmond, ma’am.”

The name on the contract nestled in her bag.
Her heart sank slowly to her shoes. One look and he knew he didn’t
want her. It hurt, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. No man ever
gave her a second look after they took in her bony form. All twigs
and bristles, her mother always said. Pete had only married her for
a share of her family’s saddle-making business.

“I see,” she squeezed from her dry
throat.

He glanced out to the never-ending scenery of
grass and stunted trees then back, as if hoping she might improve
with a second look. The rifle swung from one large strong suntanned
hand. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ve been dragged all the way out here
for nothin’.”

His slow drawl seemed to stroke her skin,
made her want to purr like a cat and roll her shoulders. It
certainly took the sting out of his words. But, damn his arrogance.
If he had to buy himself a wife, he couldn’t be much of a
catch.

Get a grip, Tess. Life just took a new turn.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t wanted to get married in the first
place. She’d wanted to get to San Antonio to find Albert. And she
had. Almost.

She stared him straight in the eye. “I’m not
refunding the cost of the ticket.”

His angular jaw dropped. “No, ma’am. Wouldn’t
dream of askin’ you.”

Just as well. She’d lost all her money in New
York. “You will pay my passage to San Antonio. You owe me
that.”

The tan on his cheekbones reddened. “Yes,
ma’am.” He squinted up at the sky and then back at her. “The stage
comes on Wednesday.”

“Not until Wednesday? Four days from now?”
Her legs felt weak, and she sagged against the rock, remembered the
snake and leaped back.

He watched like she was some sort of wild
animal. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wonderful.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

Tess stared at him, then realized she’d
spoken out loud. “I said, wonderful, Mr. Redmond. First, you were
late and then you take me in instant dislike. If you had been on
time, I could have continued on to San Antonio. Instead, I find
myself stranded in the middle of nowhere. Hence, wonderful.”

She grabbed her battered leather satchel by
the strap and started down a road trampled into ruts and baked hard
by the sun. “Good day, Mr. Redmond.”

“Where are you goin’?”

She didn’t bother to turn around. “San
Antonio. Since I am saving you the cost of a ticket, you should be
delighted.”

“Damn,” he muttered. He caught up with her
and blocked her path, his rifle slanted across his body. “It’s
fifty miles to town.”

She gazed into those gorgeous sapphire blue
eyes and wanted to cry from disappointment. What on earth was the
matter with her? Marriage to a stranger was the last thing she
wanted. Six weeks ago, she thought she’d never make it off the
streets of New York and today she was within fifty miles of Albert
with no need to make the ultimate sacrifice.

This latest reversal should have her dancing
for joy, not feeling as if she’d lost a shilling and found a
penny.

“Excuse me, Mr. Redmond.” She gestured for
him to stand aside. “If I am to arrive in San Antonio today, I
think I should...make tracks. Isn’t that what you people say?”

His jaw tightened. “Us people?”

“Yes. Texans. The farmer on the stagecoach
said it all the time.” She mimicked the slow drawl of her traveling
companion. “We gotta make tracks if we’re gonna get there tonight.”
She sidestepped him.

He cut her off again. She narrowed her eyes
and heard the blood of temper rush in her ears. “Stand aside,
sir.”

“You can’t get to San Antonio before dark,
ma’am. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come to my ranch. I’ll bring
you back to catch the stage on Wednesday.”

Oh, so he didn’t want her as a bride, but he
wanted to take her home. Did he think she was green? “No.” She
walked around him.

The sun beat down on her back, sweat trickled
between her shoulder blades.

“Ma’am?” he called out. “Mrs. Dalton? Watch
out for the snakes.”

Instinctively, she shuddered and glanced
back, uncertain.

He nodded.

She dropped her bag and placed her hands on
her hips. “Are you trying to scare me? I think you are the only
reptile here.”

His chiseled features turned to granite, blue
sparks seemed to shoot from his eyes. Clearly she’d disturbed his
infuriating calm. “It won’t do you no good to argue, Mrs. Dalton. I
ain’t lettin’ you walk to San Antonio. That’s final.”

Her stomach did a slow lazy roll of
appreciation. God, but the man looked gorgeous when roused. And
blast him, he was right. She might be angry enough to claw his eyes
out, but she wasn’t stupid. Fifty miles was like walking from
London to Dover. She wouldn’t try it in England, where she knew the
country and its hazards. She’d be lucky to make fifty yards in this
heat without dissolving into a puddle and soaking into the dust.
And she didn’t want to walk in the dark. Dash it all. She had no
alternative but to accept his hospitality. On her terms.

“Lay one finger on me and you’ll talk in a
high voice for the rest of your life,” she said.

He recoiled. “A Texas gentleman wouldn’t
dream of touchin’ a lady agin’ her will.”

“Gentlemen don’t leave their brides standing
at the altar,” she muttered.

If he heard, he didn’t show it. He waved his
hat in the direction of his gig. “This way, if you please.”

***

Jake watched her narrow shoulders sag as she
realized her predicament. She picked up her bag. The resolute cast
to her generous mouth sent a twinge of guilt straight to his gut,
where tears would’ve left him cold. Not having a way with words,
and afraid he might say something he might regret, he grabbed for
the small leather satchel that seemed to be the sum total of her
luggage. She clung to it as if she thought he planned to rob her.
The strength of her momentary resistance surprised him. He gave it
a jerk and she let go.

He strode ahead and dropped the bag in the
back of the buggy. He turned to help her, but she’d already climbed
in like a cat up a tree. He unlooped the reins and joined her on
the seat. With a click of his tongue he turned the horse
homeward.