Karen Kirst - Bride By Arrangement

“I saw Will yesterday.” Seeking out the shade of a sixty-foot-tall box elder tree, Daniel removed his derby hat and dusted off the crown. A hank of chestnut hair slipped into his eyes, and he impatiently shoved it aside. As owner of the stockyards, he favored cowboy attire. Today, however, he was dressed like Will, in a fine brown suit and polished boots. “He told me about the widow and her daughters. What’s she like?”

“That’s your first question?” Noah demanded, throwing his hands wide. “I thought your first would be to ask how I’m coping with this latest problem in a long string of them. One I didn’t ask for and didn’t see coming. I never dreamed my closest friends would go behind my back and do something so underhanded.”

Daniel looked disconcerted. “We didn’t do it to add to your burdens. Our goal was to force you out of this ridiculous solitude you’ve consigned yourself to.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” he ground out. “You know why I’ve chosen this life.”

“I was in the war, too, remember?” he said quietly. “Man or woman, adult or child, I’m not convinced you’d find anyone in this nation who came through it unaffected. That doesn’t mean you have to give up on life. You’re as worthy of happiness as the rest of us, Noah.”

“I don’t agree. The way I feel inside... I’m a different man than I used to be.”

“Different doesn’t necessarily mean worse.”

They would never have like minds on the subject. “I wish you and Will had discussed your scheme with me before you acted. This woman you’ve brought here has her mind set on staying. She’s convinced our town will prove a fine setting in which to raise her young daughters.”

“Is she not someone you can envision building a life with?”

Noah tilted his head back and stared at the knotty branches and matte undersides of the leaves suspended from them.

“I don’t believe we’d get along,” he said.

“How do you figure?” One dark brow quirked up.

“We have the bad habit of making assumptions about each other.”

A stout, hairy man emerged from the hardware store across the street, a sack swinging from his right hand. He smiled when he saw them, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “Howdy, Sheriff! Fine day to be alive, ain’t it?”

Noah lifted a hand in acknowledgment, catching sight of the grin Daniel tried to hide.

“I pin on a badge and suddenly folks feel it’s their duty to speak to me.” He scowled.

“It’s a nice change from how things used to be. You started this town. No reason you shouldn’t interact with the grateful residents.”

“We started this town. I’m happy to leave the mingling to you and Will.”

“Back to the widow Miller. How did she react to your scars?”

“Didn’t seem to mind. The girls, either.” He squinted at Daniel. “Don’t get that look.”

“What look?”

“The dopey one that makes you look like you’re seven,” he shot back, wondering where his anger had gone. Maybe if they’d meant it as a joke or as a way to hurt him, he could’ve nursed his ire. But it had been a misguided attempt to improve his life. “I’m not marrying Constance. In fact, I was on my way to the hotel to secure her a suite. Will’s largest and finest, as he’ll be footing the bill.”

He started walking through the grass toward the dusty street. Daniel blocked his retreat.

“Whoa. Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

“It’s the logical choice.”

“Tell me what she looks like,” the other man prodded. “Is she pretty?”

“Pretty isn’t the right word. She’s like an exotic bloom that needs an awful lot of care and attention.”

Daniel’s gaze intensified. “An exotic bloom, huh?”

The tips of his ears burned. “Why does it matter?”

“You don’t remember the crush of men at the train station the day Leah and the others arrived? The locals are starved for female companionship. If you put Mrs. Miller up at the Cattleman, she’ll be accosted by marriage-minded men, not all of them worthy of a woman’s hand.”

“Not my problem.” Sidestepping him, Noah continued walking.

“You’re refusing to marry her.” Daniel spoke to his back. “In doing so, you’re putting her and her daughters at risk. Do you not feel an ounce of responsibility toward them?”

Noah halted, his gaze on the bustling traffic ahead—wagons, single riders and pedestrians. Clusters of crude, rowdy cowboys whistling and gesturing to Pippa Neely, one of the original mail-order brides and the town’s resident actress, as she traversed the boardwalk.

Daniel came abreast of him. “It’d be a shame if she chose the wrong sort of man. You’d be forced to see the evidence of her poor choice for the rest of your life.”

Noah ground his teeth. He couldn’t deny that if he found out she or the twins were being mistreated, he’d wind up locked in a cell for beating the guy within an inch of his life. “There’s another possibility.”

Settling his derby on his head, Daniel waited.

“She might fancy a drover,” Noah pointed out. “She wouldn’t be sticking around then.”

“That defeats our purpose. We want to grow Cowboy Creek, not provide brides for itinerant cowboys.”

He threw up in his hands in frustration. “What do you propose I do?”

“Allow her to stay at your place until the three of us—you, me and Will—help her make a wise and proper choice.”

Noah snorted. “She’s not the sort of woman to be led about. Despite her helpless appearance, Constance knows her own mind.”

“We won’t make her choice for her. We’ll simply be advising her on her suitors’ characters and reputations.”

He closed his eyes, wishing he could rewind time a couple of days. “Fine,” he growled. “They can stay for the time being.”

“Do you want Will and I there when you explain things?”

“Oh, no. It’s best if you leave the explaining to me.”

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