The Marshal's Rebellious Bride (23 page)

Chapter
Nine

The sun had popped up close to an hour ago and the
ranch was coming to life for another day. Morgan had been up for a while,
checked on Demon, and talked to a few of the men before they rode out to mend
some more fences. Taos, too, had been up early and already ridden into town to
catch up with Keno and go by the telegraph office. He would be wiring in his
resignation to the U.S. Marshal’s office in Texas. And he would check for any
news about Rafe. Unable to find any more excuses for avoiding going to the
house for breakfast, Morgan headed in that direction.

He smelled bacon frying and fresh bread as soon as he
reached the bottom of the porch steps. His stomach rumbled with hunger. He
glanced at his boots to make sure they weren’t covered with dirt and reached
for the back door. He’d shaved extra good and made sure to put on his best
Levi’s and a clean shirt before leaving the bunkhouse earlier. He was nervous
about meeting Brandy. When he and Whiskey had gone to the house last night,
they’d discovered her sister had already gone upstairs to bed. She’d traveled a
long day and none of them had wanted to bother her. Truth was, he and Taos had
been about dead on their feet as well. So now it was meeting time. For
Whiskey’s sake, he wanted to do this right.

His hand was nearly on the door handle when he heard
Tyler talking excitedly to Whiskey. “I seen that camel of
yers
reach his long neck over the fence and grab right onto Taos’s hat. Clean run
off with it. Them camels sure do run funny. Anyways, your brother colored the
air with words that would get my butt beat by Uncle Chase if I said them. Boy
howdy, he was mad.”

So his son had been out and about the ranch yard
already this morning. No one had mentioned seeing him. He eased back just out
of sight so he could listen a bit longer. It was odd having his son here. He
wasn’t sure he even knew what to say to him. But he damn sure better learn
because he planned on being a real father. Hell, he
had
to be a father now that his own father had been killed and
couldn’t watch after Tyler. No, he
wanted
to be a father. It just scared him down to his bones.

“Yes, Taos isn’t all that fond of any of my animals.”
She laughed and he savored the light, happy sound. “Your father isn’t fond of
them either. Especially his namesake: my skunk.”

Tyler giggled. “Why’d you name your skunk after Pa?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” She giggled,
too.

“Bet he hollered at you about it,” Tyler said in a
serious tone. “He hollers a lot.”

Morgan flinched at the uneasiness in his son’s voice.
Was the boy scared of him? He couldn’t actually recall ever having yelled at
his son. It had been his father that he’d had loud disagreements with. Sad as
it was, he didn’t rightly miss his father. Mean old bastard to him and Chase
when they were growing up. But as far as he knew, the judge hadn’t been as
harsh with his grandson. Partly because he hoped he’d made it clear that he
would throttle his father if he ever heard about it.
And
partly because Chase kept a close eye on Tyler, as much as he could.

She walked close to the door and he could smell her
scent. He ached for her and he’d thought about her all night. The wedding day
couldn’t come soon enough to please him. If Taos hadn’t told him that most of
the town was planning on being there, he’d drag her in front of the preacher
today. But then, he wanted to see her in that dress, wanted to see her walking
down the aisle to become his wife.

“Your father isn’t an easy man,” she said, drawing his
attention. “He can seem pretty hard at times, especially when…” She obviously
realized what she’d been about to say, probably something about when he spanked
her. She hesitated and began again. “It takes a hard man to chase down
criminals. But he’s a good man, Tyler. You shouldn’t be frightened of him. He
would never, ever hurt you.”

“That’s what Uncle Chase tells me. Mostly I believe
him. Still…”

“I wonder where everyone is this morning,” Whiskey
said, clearly deciding to change the subject. “Your father generally comes in
for breakfast earlier than this. Chase, too. But Brandy tends to sleep in.”

“I believe Chase went into town with Taos. When I
glanced out the window a while ago, I thought they were riding off together,”
Brandy said as Morgan heard her walk into the kitchen.

“Let’s sit down to eat now that you’re up,” Whiskey
said. “Morgan will get here when he gets here.”

Morgan drew in a fortifying breath and pulled open the
back door. “
Mornin
’, everyone.”

He took off his hat and nodded at the sisters. The
sight of the two of them together took him back a bit. Same bronze-colored
hair: Whiskey’s worn in its usual braid hanging down her back to nearly her
waist, Brandy’s done up on top of her head in fancy curls. Same green eyes,
both sets pinned on him at the moment. Both women were trim and busty. One
shapely body encased in a dress with a line of ruffles down the side of the
skirt. The other woman clad, as always, in britches and a tucked-in shirt. He
went back to studying Brandy, thinking that Whiskey had looked mighty fine in a
dress, too.

“If you’re done ogling my sister,” Whiskey snapped to
draw his gaze. Her green eyes flashed with annoyance. “Brandy, this is Marshal
Rydell.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He wasn’t sure if he’d
done something wrong or not, but his bride-to-be sure looked upset.

Brandy smiled at him, which in turn seemed to ruffle
Whiskey’s feathers even more. She stiffened and barked, “Time to eat.”

Brandy gave a quiet chuckle and pulled out a chair at
the table by the window. “A bit testy this morning, aren’t you, dear?”

Whiskey ignored her and planted herself in a chair
across from her sister. She motioned for Tyler to take the seat at the far end
of the table. “Unlike some people, I have things to do today.”

Tyler was gaping in confusion, but scooted by Brandy
and took his appointed seat.

Brandy giggled and, as Morgan took a seat at the head
of the table, she said with a hint of teasing in her voice, “I have to admit
that I’m still rather amazed by this upcoming wedding. You’re not exactly the
kind of man I thought my sister would settle down with.” She grew serious. “At
least not after what happened to Ace.”

Whiskey sucked in a breath and he saw her grow pale.
For a second, then she looked ready to throttle Brandy. He was starting to
think like Chase, that
both
women
needed a firm hand applied to their bottoms.

He sent Whiskey a look warning her to behave. She just
tipped that sassy chin up a notch. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that they
would be having a “discussion” in the near future.

“You mean since I wear a badge like that Ace did?” He
reached for the platter of scrambled eggs Manuel had put out for them. “Other
than that, ma’am, he and I are
nothing
alike.”

Brandy took the eggs from him and scooped a small
spoonful onto her plate, smiling. “Ace Tanner was a boy in comparison.
A boy playing at being a lawman.
Still, Whiskey thought she
loved him.”

She looked across at her sister. “But you didn’t, did
you? Not really. That was just puppy love, as they say.”

Whiskey was grinding her teeth, squirming not to rage
back because he had put his hand on her knee in warning. Finally she said as
calmly as she could manage, “You wanted Ace as much as I did.
Boy
or not, you found him exciting. But
he preferred
me
.”

Now Brandy appeared to have trouble holding on to her
primness. “Shall we stop this discussion before it gets any more unpleasant.”
She nodded toward an avidly listening Tyler. “Young ears.”

So that was part of the problem: they both had wanted
the same man. Morgan stepped into the verbal battle. “Good suggestion.” He
watched Whiskey struggle to let the subject go, proud of her when she did.

He decided to turn the tables a little on Brandy, who
seemed to enjoy antagonizing her sister. “So, what is it that you’ve been up to
this last year? Whiskey tells me you said you weren’t in England as everyone
thought.”

Brandy’s eyes widened and she focused on scooting the
meager amount of eggs around on her plate. “I’ve been…travelling. Back East.”

“Travelling?
By yourself?
I
can’t imagine father allowing that. Or Taos, or Keno, if they knew about it.”
Whiskey pinned Brandy with a challenging look.

Lifting her gaze again, Brandy said quietly, firmly,
“I don’t wish to discuss my circumstances right now.”

For a second he wondered if Whiskey would let the
opportunity to push her twin go, then she gave a curt nod. “Fine. For now.”
Clearly changing the subject, she looked at him. “Morgan has promised to turn
in his badge. He won’t be a lawman much longer.”

“I know you bought into the ranch, but I can’t believe
you’ll actually settle down,” Brandy said in surprise. “Haven’t you been a
lawman for quite a number of years? Isn’t it in your blood by now, chasing down
outlaws, bringing them to justice?”

She cocked her head to study him. “Over the years,
Taos has told me many tales about you, his marshal partner. You’ve got quite a
reputation, for upholding the law…and with your gun.”

As Whiskey grew very still, hardly breathing, he
wanted to shake Brandy. He remembered Whiskey’s nightmare about him dying in
her arms. He remembered telling her last night that he promised not to die like
that. He squeezed her knee under the table and felt her shudder. Then at the
end of the table he saw Tyler watching, listening intently.

“A man’s wants and needs change. I’m not interested in
traipsing all over these lands any longer. There’s younger lawman that can do
my job, earn their reputation.” He hoped he was saying this right. “I’ve
thought a while now about breeding horses. This is a good ranch for doing that.
I need a strong woman at my side and I’ve found one.”

Whiskey blinked and gave a wobbly smile, but she
looked uncertain.

“As soon as one final man in particular gets dealt
with, I’m turning in my badge.” He just couldn’t quit until he brought Rafe
down.

Whiskey’s chin tipped higher. “I’m holding you to
that, too.” Then she said under her breath, but he heard her, “I still haven’t
agreed to getting married.”

He clenched his teeth and wanted to challenge her on
the matter, but he didn’t because of their audience. He didn’t want Tyler to
hear them arguing. And it wasn’t any of Brandy’s business. Instead he said, “Same
as I’m holding you not to go flying in that damn balloon anymore.”

She frowned.

“Or dance in a saloon again. Or even think about
racing down Front Street again. Or…“ He stopped, thinking she got the idea by
now. He wouldn’t put up with anymore of her dangerous shenanigans. They scared
the hell out of him.

While Whiskey nearly sneered at him, Brandy gave a
fluttery laugh. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you, dear sister? Still bucking what’s
considered proper behavior. Still up to mischief.”

“She’s turning over a new leaf,” he said as a matter
of fact, and as a warning.

“I heard about that balloon, seen it, too, piled up in
the barn,” Tyler said, sounding awed. “You sure are something.”

Whiskey looked ready to tongue-lash her sister, but
wisely decided not to since Tyler was there with them. But she sent a sizzling
glance toward Morgan, yet he also noted pain, which bothered him.

“We haven’t said any vows yet,
Marshal Rydell
.”

“We will.” He still worried about that pain in her
eyes. What had he done now?

She huffed and got to her feet. “I’m going to feed my
animals. Completely lost my appetite.”

“Whiskey,” he began, trying to figure out a way to
calm her down.

She ignored him and marched out the door, saying over
her shoulder, “Maybe you ought to consider marrying Brandy instead. She’s
already damn perfect.”

When he would have gone after her, Brandy shook her
head. “Leave her be, Morgan.”

Tyler scooted around the table, biscuit in hand, and
raced out the door after Whiskey.

He heaved a sigh. “Well damn. That didn’t go near as
well as I’d thought. And I don’t even know what I did wrong this time.”

* * *

“How come Brandy makes you so mad?” Tyler asked as he
sat a few feet from Whiskey in the barn where she was cleaning her saddle. He
held the skunk in his lap and gently stroked its back.

She couldn’t tell him that she felt inadequate
whenever her sister was around. She couldn’t tell him she worried that Morgan
would be drawn to Brandy. Most men were. Now that she thought about Ace without
the rosy eyes of someone in love—or thinking she was in love, she
recalled how he’d given her sister more “hot” looks than he’d ever given her.
Maybe she’d trapped him into proposing. She couldn’t really remember, except
that Brandy had been off in England when he’d finally asked her to marry him.
He’d wanted to sneak kisses, but she’d resisted, wanting to wait until they
were married for anything more than an occasional quick peck on the lips. He
had gotten frustrated when she’d been insistent on the matter. Then he kept
putting off an actual wedding date. He always had some excuse or another and,
truthfully, she hadn’t pressed him about it. Maybe he’d only popped the
question on a whim or because Brandy wasn’t available. The idea made her sick.