Brides of the West (9 page)

“You are welcome to stay with me and Maria,”
Albert said.

A flash of hope jolted through Jake. He hated
the idea of never seeing her again. Hated it like hell. Perhaps,
once she learned the truth, she might get used to the idea and then
he could woo her the way she deserved.

She shook her head. “I think I need to go
home. Make sure Mother gets a good price for the business and
doesn’t pay too much for her new house. You know how hopeless she
can be with money.”

The hope in Jake’s chest blew away like
dust.

Albert frowned. “Do you think Ma’s new
husband will listen to you, Tess? What you need is your own man and
your own life. I never did understand why you married an old stick
like Dalton.”

The misery in
Tess’
eyes drove a stake through Jake’s heart. He took a step forward,
saw her freeze rigid as if his very presence chilled her. He
halted.

She straightened her shoulders and gave a
little toss of her head. “You know there isn’t a man in the world
who’d make me an offer. Not without a bribe. I did it because it
helped the family.”

Albert tossed her an amused glance, which to
Jake seemed rather cruel given she was on the edge of tears.

“Just like you would have married this
cowboy, huh, Tess?” Albert said. “For the family?”

She stole a glance at Jake and quickly looked
away. “Yes,” she whispered. Her face turned bright red.

She was lying. Jake felt heat spread out from
his chest. Damn it, she wanted to marry him for himself. He knew it
in his bones. His Indian blood that told him things in a way white
men never knew or understood. But did
she
fully understand
what she would get herself into with him?

“I’m part Cherokee,” he said.

She looked blank.

“Indian.”

She now looked puzzled. “You mean Raven
really is your uncle?”

“Not my uncle. My grandfather. I just got
used to callin’ him uncle when I was a boy.” Before he knew.

“Folks round here ain’t keen on mixing their
blood with Indian blood,” Albert said.

Jake shot him a glare, but said nothing. How
could he deny the truth?

Tess’
eyes widened.
“Oh,” she said. “I see.” She stared down at the ground.

Blood rushed in Jake’s ears, his heart
thundered painfully. He wanted to turn away, to avoid the pain of
seeing her disgust, but kept his gaze fixed on her face.

He sure wished he hadn’t spoken up, but honor
demanded he tell the truth. Especially with her, this woman who had
stolen his heart when he wasn’t looking. Right now she held it in
the palm of her delicate hands. At any moment, she could squeeze it
as dry as the desert.

“I have Irish blood,” she said. “How do you
feel about that?”

Jake felt thoroughly confused and must have
looked it because she gave that raspy little laugh that sent him
mindless with lust...and love.

“People in England aren’t keen on the Irish,”
she said. “And with my red hair, they always knew right away.”

Albert nodded. “It’s true.”

Tess frowned him into silence. “But,” she
went on, “I think if you love someone, it doesn’t matter what runs
in your blood.” She smiled at him shyly. “Does it?”

It took a moment for the words to sink in.
Was she saying she loved him? The look on her face, all soft,
sweet, shy, her eyes a little moist, said she was, but inside his
gut twisted. He didn’t feel sure. His father had despised him for
his tainted blood, favored his younger stepbrother no matter how
hard Jake worked to please him.

She must have sensed his doubt, because she
glided to stand right in front of him, hands on hips and stared up
with a gaze that seemed to see right through to his soul.

“I love you, Jake.”

He felt as if a dam had broken in his chest.
Moisture choked his throat, burned behind his nose, blurring his
eyes. Somehow, he forced words through the flood, around it. “God,
Tess, I . . . Goddammit.” He swallowed. She looked so hell-bent
anxious, he wanted to kill himself. “Stay with me, Tess. Marry me.
I love you, Tess.”

Albert gave a whoop. His tiny wife jumped up
and down.

But Jake only had eyes for Tess. Tiny,
delicate, uniquely beautiful Tess, who was stronger and braver than
ever he could be without her.

“Yes, Jake. I will marry you.”

He picked her up and swung her around in a
circle, his heart delighting at her happy shriek. “We need a
preacher. I want daughters just like you.”

“And I want sons. Matt and Dave will teach
them to be Texas gentlemen.”

“You’ll keep the lads, then?” It had been his
biggest worry in this whole marriage thing.

She gently held his cheeks in her hands,
gazed into his eyes. “Of course we will keep the boys. And Uncle
Raven.”

He stared into her honest truthful eyes and
shook his head in wonder. “Tess, you truly are an angel.” He raised
his voice, shouted, wanted the world to know he’d found his woman.
“Let’s find a preacher.”

She cupped his
face
and raised her lips to claim his mouth, soft and gentle and
demanding his attention.

His woman. And he was her man.

Truly, there was a bride for every man—and
she would be his bride for all time.

Gonzales, Texas

May 1885

Gray Wolf McKinnon’s heart slammed in his
chest as he stared at the photograph on page seven of the new
A
Bride for All
mail order catalog he’d picked up that morning.
It couldn’t be—yet it was.
Evangeline Braddock Payne
. He
sprang from the writing desk with such vigor, the chair he’d been
sitting in toppled to the floor. He read the words beneath the
photograph.
Twenty-eight year old widow with young child seeks
matrimony with kind gentleman. Excellent cook and seamstress of
strong constitution, wishes to relocate as soon as possible.
Courtship unnecessary.

He flung the catalog across the room and
stalked the floor of his cabin. Evangeline was a widow. While it
should have pleased him Garrick Payne was dead, somehow it didn’t
hold any satisfaction—not that he truly cared whether she’d married
another man. Any tenderness he’d felt for her died ten years ago on
the night they’d tried to murder him.

Opening the door, he braced himself against
its frame and drew in a deep, steadying breath of night air. What
an interesting turn of events. The Reverend Garrick Payne dead and
Evangeline free to marry. To marry
him
.

No!
Shoving away from the door, his
steps propelled him across the porch that spanned the length of the
house. What the hell was he thinking? She’d betrayed him, her lies
nearly costing his life. He shoved a hand through his thick,
shoulder-length hair and let out a ragged breath. Evangeline hadn’t
cared for him. He’d only been a dalliance, a novelty to pass the
lonely summer on her father’s ranch.

He strode into the cabin, kicking the door
shut behind him. He glanced at the catalog on the floor, then to
the writing desk. His body shook with rage as a plot coalesced in
his mind. Snatching up the book, he thumbed through until he found
her photograph again. Crossing over to the desk, he righted the
chair and took a seat, then placed the book before him. This was
insane. No
, he
was insane.

“Do it,” the voice said.

He adjusted the lamp’s wick, illuminating the
room. What would he gain by such a deed?
Revenge.

Opening the desk drawer, he took out the
inkwell, pen and a sheet of paper.

He blew out a breath, cracked his knuckles,
then picked up the pen.

Dear Mrs. Payne
, he wrote with
flourish,
My name is Mr. Adam Smith of Gonzales, Texas. I read
your advertisement in A Bride for All mail order catalog and would
like to begin a correspondence with you. I have never married, am
of sound body and mind and the owner of a comfortable log cabin
situated on a one-hundred sixty-acre ranch in south central Texas.
I am in need of a wife and helpmate and would welcome you and your
child immediately. Please advise concerning transportation
expenses.

As he laid the pen aside and blew on the ink
lightly to hasten the drying, his gaze fell upon her photograph. A
disturbing thought crossed his mind. What if she’d already answered
another man’s correspondence? A chill shook him at the thought.

He signed the letter and sealed the envelope,
knowing he must act swiftly. He could not let her get away
again.

***

Luling, Texas

June 1885

Evangeline Braddock Payne Smith hugged her
nine-year-old son, Mac, close as the train rolled through the
outskirts of town. She’d traveled from Savannah to Houston, where
she’d taken the Pierce rail line west. Today she would meet Adam
Smith, the man she’d married one week ago by proxy after a
correspondence of less than one month. Although she’d hated to
marry in haste, there was no time to squander. The anonymous
letters had become more frequent this past month and she feared
their author might strike at any time. Now she and Mac would be
secure with their new identity in another state. At least she
prayed her past wouldn’t catch up with her.

The first threatening note had arrived five
weeks ago. She’d immediately placed an advertisement in the
A
Bride for All
mail order catalog, hoping to flee Georgia as
soon as possible. A Texas rancher had responded.

Someone knew the details of her late
husband’s death and she feared they’d stop at nothing to expose the
truth. Before leaving Savannah, she’d burned the letters and
donated her late husband’s estate to charity—all furnishings
intact. Her only remaining possessions were two trunks—one of
keepsakes, and the other containing her and Mac’s clothes,
scheduled to arrive at her new home in ten days.

She lifted an embroidered handkerchief and
blotted her cheeks and forehead, fretful Mr. Smith should meet her
for the first time in such an untidy state. She fought to contain
wispy ringlets of damp hair that slipped from the once neatly
coiled bun at the nape of her neck. She licked her parched lips,
tasting salt. Perspiration saturated the bodice of her new blue
dress. Mac was in no better condition from the long train ride. She
glanced over at her son who busily picked at a festered insect bite
on his arm.

“Mac, please stop,” she whispered. “It’s
impolite before the other ladies on the train.”

“But I itch, Mama.” He scratched his head. “I
think I have fleas.”

She sighed. They both needed a sound
scrubbing. What would her new husband think of them, given their
disheveled state?

She closed her eyes and imagined her first
day in her new home, enjoying a luxurious soak in the footed
bathtub Mr. Smith wrote he’d installed as a wedding present. She’d
purchased a new bottle of rose-scented bath salts for the occasion.
On second thought, perhaps she might use them tonight at the hotel.
She supposed Mr. Smith—or Adam, as she should think of him—might
wish to consummate their union tonight.

A shiver crawled up her spine at the thought
of intimacy with a man—a stranger at that. She drew a deep
steadying breath. She hadn’t suited her late husband’s peculiar
tastes, and was thankful he’d not visited her bed the last four
years of their marriage. Somehow she would manage to move beyond
those dreadful experiences with Garrick Payne and fulfill her
wifely duties with her new husband.

She was hardly naïve at twenty-eight. She’d
known precisely two men in her life—her first love, Gray Wolf
MacKinnon, or ‘Wolf’ as he was known, and her late husband, the
Reverend Garrick Payne. A shudder rippled through her at the
memories of Garrick’s abuse, but she quickly dashed the demons
away, reminding herself that all men weren’t cruel like her first
husband. She prayed Mr. Smith was as kind as he appeared to be from
his letters, and that he’d not take her coldly, without care for
her comfort.

Memories resurfaced, reminding her of the
passion she’d once enjoyed in Gray Wolf’s arms—evidenced by the
beautiful child at her side. Perhaps she might find that passion
again. If she couldn’t be with the only man she’d ever loved, then
she’d accept her fate and settle for marriage with a man who would
provide well for her and young Mac.

Mac jerked upright at the sound of the
whistle. With a hiss of steam, the train slowed to a jolting stop.
Evangeline’s heart fluttered in her chest knowing her life was
about to forever change. She thought she’d prepared herself for
this moment. Now she had second thoughts.

“Mama, are we there yet?” Mac’s dark eyes
darted about the car as a few passengers whooped with excitement.
“Is this our stop?”

“Yes, I believe so, Mac.” She stared out the
filmy window at the bustling depot. “Remember, there is still a
full day’s ride to Mr. Smith’s ranch south of Gonzales. He wrote he
would bring a wagon.”

Mac rubbed a spot on the dirty window pane
with his fist and peered out. “Do you see him, Mama? My new
pa?”

Evangeline stroked her son’s soft, shiny
hair. At nine years of age, Mac resembled his real father more than
ever. A shame he would never know him. She had no idea where Wolf
was or how to find him even if she wished.

She glanced out the window and a twinge of
sadness squeezed her heart. She had fallen in love with Wolf the
summer he worked as a hand on her father’s ranch. She loved him
still and always would, although time had lessened the wound in her
heart.

Reluctantly, she pushed aside the memories
and hugged her son close again. It was of no use to dwell on the
past. Besides, Mac was excited at the prospect of having a new
father and the move to Texas.