Winnie Griggs - Handpicked Husband

From the way her hands curled, he’d guess he was lucky she didn’t have a club handy.

My, but the lady did have a temper.

“Mr. Barr.” She enunciated each word clearly. “I have no intention of using wiles, feminine or otherwise. I intend to be forthright in my dealings with you and the other gents, and I expect the same in return.”

She impatiently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and his focus shifted to the soft wisps framing her face. How long had it been since he’d stroked a woman’s hair?

He straightened abruptly and swallowed an oath. There was no room in his life right now for thoughts like that, especially when it came to the judge’s granddaughter.

Pushing away from the rail, he stepped down, wanting to put distance between them. “I’ll get the contract.”

He wondered, not for the first time, why Judge Madison hadn’t considered him as a suitor for his granddaughter. Not that Adam wanted to tie himself down with a wife right now—but it stung that he hadn’t been on the list of candidates. What did her grandfather see in the others that was missing in him? Had the time he spent in jail tarnished him in the judge’s eyes as well?

He had to clear his name soon. Only then would he have any chance of living a normal life.

“Grandfather actually expects me to sign a contract agreeing to his addle-pated plan?” The words bristled with outrage, a hint of the banshee they’d encountered earlier coming through.

“All parties to the contract are required to sign.” Adam jerked the packet from his satchel. “The other three signed it, I signed it, even your grandfather signed it. Now it’s your turn.”

She accepted the papers as if he’d handed her smelly rags. “I’ve never heard of the livestock being haggled over signing the bill of sale along with the buyer and seller.”

Her tongue was as sharp as any knife he’d wielded. She’d make a good lawyer. Adam was beginning to believe the judge had decided not to come for reasons other than the ones he’d stated. “If you refuse, then Jack and I board the next train to Philadelphia.”

She snapped the papers with a humph and started reading.

If she was looking for loopholes, she’d be disappointed. The judge had drawn up the document and then had Adam review every syllable. Adam would bet the horse he rode in on that it was ironclad.

Adam wondered which of the men would end up escorting the reluctant bride to the altar.

Everett seemed the best equipped to deal with her lethal tongue. The educated cynic would give as good as he got in that department. Then again, he might consider himself too sophisticated for a lady who appeared equally comfortable in overalls as a dress.

Mitchell, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind her provincial ways. He didn’t let much rattle him. Always searching for the middle ground, Mitchell had defused several tense moments during their trip. But did he have the determination required to deal with the overbearing Miss Nash? His size not withstanding, the woman would likely ride roughshod right over him.

If a peaceful life was what Mitchell wanted, he wouldn’t get it hitched to this virago.

That left Chance. The boy was younger than the potential bride, and rebellious enough to stand up to a riled bear, so Adam didn’t think she would intimidate him. Adam suspected, though, in a battle of wills, Miss Nash would come out the winner.

Besides, would it be fair to shackle the kid to a wife before he’d had a taste of the independence he so obviously craved?

Judge Madison had been adamant, though, that one of the men he was sending here was the perfect match for his granddaughter. He also insisted she would realize it herself, as soon as she bowed to the inevitable and got to know them.

Adam watched the emotions flash across her volatile features as she poured over the contract.

He wouldn’t want to be in the position the three others found themselves in, and he certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to have to do the picking.

* * *

Reggie stared at the contract, the words blurring into a meaningless jumble. There had to be a way out of this. Marriage wasn’t an option for her. It hadn’t been for a long time.

If only her grandfather had come himself so she could talk to him, could read his expression, hear the shades of meaning in his voice as they discussed this.

He’d never understood her easy acceptance of maiden aunt status, but she never dreamed he’d take things this far, even if he did believe it was “for her own good.”

Clearing her head from the useless what-ifs, Reggie forced herself to read the contract. It appeared to say the same thing as the letter, but in more formal terms. One thing she did learn, however, was exactly what each of her suitors stood to gain from the arrangement.

Everett Fulton would be set up with his own newspaper press, a first for Turnabout.

Mitchell Parker would be given a house in town and a job as teacher, thanks to the new wing the judge was having built onto the schoolhouse. Ahh, so that was the motive behind Grandfather’s unexpected altruism.

And, oddly enough, Chance Dawson was being given the burned out Blue Bottle Saloon and money to renovate it.

Plump carrots indeed. No wonder the men had agreed to take part in this backward marriage lottery. Not only were they being given fresh starts, but they would come into the community as men of consequence.

She glanced up to see Adam leading his horse to the shade of a nearby tree. At least he’d quit watching her with that unnerving stare.

He stretched and corded muscles strained against the confines of his shirt, muscles he’d no doubt acquired while in prison. A powerful reminder that this was not the same man she’d known all those years ago. This man was both powerful and dangerous.

Abruptly, Reggie turned her focus back to the contract. She had no reason to fear Adam—Grandfather would never have sent him here if he hadn’t trusted him completely.

Quickly finding her place, Reggie skimmed over the next few paragraphs. What it all boiled down to was that, in exchange for her grandfather’s generosity, the trio agreed to “court” her, to truthfully answer any questions about their past and their aspirations, and ultimately, each of them agreed to abide by her final selection without hesitation.

Reggie paused and reread that part. Now here was something she could use. She was no prize catch to start with. The fact that her grandfather had offered such extravagant bribes showed he thought so, too.

Best not to dwell on the sting of that right now.

Instead, she explored how she might take advantage of the small chink in the contract’s armor. If she could hone in on which of her would-be suitors was least enthusiastic about marrying her, and play up whatever would most intensify his reluctance, she might manage to get out of this yet. She just had to make sure, when she made her choice, the man in question would decide he was better off without the judge’s bribe than hitched to her.

Tricky, but she could pull it off. She had to.

Surely the judge wouldn’t follow through with his threat if she’d done her part? If nothing else, it would serve as a delaying tactic while she planned a countermove.

There was an interesting catch to the agreement—exactly the sort of stipulation her deviously-minded grandfather loved to impose. If the man she picked balked at the idea of marrying her, the deal was off for all of them. The trio were in this together.

If her plan worked, she would squash the dreams of not one but three men.

Reggie refused to feel even a smidgeon of guilt. If they truly wanted to start a new life in Turnabout, they didn’t need her grandfather’s backing to make it. They’d just have to do it with the sweat of their own brows rather than with handouts.