Brides of the West Read online

  “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.

  Gray Wolf’s Bride

  Kimberly Ivey

  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.

  She shook away the painful memories and turned her attention to her son. The past only brought pain. She must stop looking backward and embrace the bright new future ahead.

  “I do not know if your new father is here, Mac. I have never seen a photograph of Mr. Smith. I was instructed to meet him at the hotel. Hopefully, we might have a chance to freshen up first.”

  “You look real pretty in that new blue dress, Mama. It matches your eyes. Mr. Smith’s gonna be happy he picked you.”

  Smiling at Mac, Evangeline reached beneath the seat and grasped the handle of the bag that held a few clothes. Taking her son’s hand in hers, they wove through the exiting crowd, a mass of unwashed bodies that had sweltered aboard the train for hours. Mac jerked free of her grip and she turned in time to catch a flash of embarrassment in his eyes. Not quite a child, he wasn’t a man either. She indicated with a motion of her head for him to follow.

  Her heart beat wildly as the porter took her valise and assisted her from the train. Texas soil was underfoot for the first time in ten years. Her knees almost buckled, but she clutched Mac’s shoulder, steadying herself. This was home. Such a foreign notion now.

  She blinked back tears once again. She must be strong for Mac’s sake and not cry for the life she’d once known. Steeling herself against the heat, she fanned herself with her hand. She’d forgotten how unforgiving Texas weather was in summer.

  Mac surprised her by looping an arm in hers like a true gentleman and they stepped onto the wooden walkway and moved away from the blowing red dust and soot.

  Mac lugged the heavy valise as they walked through the train station.

  “Since it appears no one is waiting for us here, we shall check at the hotel,” she told Mac as they exited and burst into bright sunlight again. She spied the two story hotel several buildings away. “Mr. Smith has reserved two rooms for us tonight, one for you and one for Mr. Smith and me.”

  “Why two rooms, Mama? Can’t I stay with you and my new Pa tonight?”

  Evangeline cleared her throat. She supposed it was time someone explained the delicate matter of male and female relations to Mac. Perhaps Mr. Smith—or rather, Adam, her new husband should be the one to instruct the boy.

  Her breath caught in her throat as a new revelation struck. She’d written Mr. Smith that she’d married her first husband seven years ago. What if he learned her child was nine? He’d know he hadn’t been fathered by Garrick Payne. Her heartbeat pounded out a deafening tempo in her ears. How could she have overlooked such an important detail? She paused on the walkway as her mind went into a whirl. Mac eyed her curiously.

  “Mama, are you all right?”

  No, she was not. She felt il
l, her stomach roiling about like a pot of greasy broth. Her father had disowned her when he discovered her pregnancy and forced her to go to a home for girls in Georgia. Savannah society had also scorned her when Garrick Payne announced she was to be his bride. As the mother of an illegitimate child, she was tainted in most people’s eyes. Would Mr. Smith feel that way, too, if he learned the truth?

  She lifted a hand and smoothed back an unruly lock of hair from Mac’s sweet face. He was innocent. Although he knew Garrick wasn’t his real father, she’d tried to shield him from the townspeople’s stares and harsh talk. Should the truth become light, she would do everything in her power to protect him now. She prayed her new husband would understand.

  As they strolled along the sunny boardwalk, people passed on horseback or in carriages, churning up the road’s red dust. A man and woman nodded politely as they moved past.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Mama.” Mac turned to walk backward alongside her. “Why will we have separate rooms?”

  Evangeline sighed. “Mac, turn around and walk correctly. You’re going to trip or bump into someone.”

  “Naw.” He smiled. “I’m gettin’ real good at this backward walking. I’ve got eyes in the back of my head I tell you. Besides, I want to know why I can’t stay with you and Mr. Smith? Won’t he like me? I’ll take a bath if that’ll help.”

  She paused and bit back a smile. “Of course he will like you, but you must have your own quarters because you are becoming a man. You cannot sleep in the same room with your parents.”

  “Mama, I think I see him!” Mac looked in the direction from which they’d come.

  Evangeline turned and pulled her bonnet to shield her eyes from the strong rays of the midday sun. “How can you tell?” She searched through a crowd of people who hurried along the street. “We have never even seen a photograph of Mr. Smith.”

  “It’s that man.” He pointed. “The tall cowboy in the black hat and long coat.”