Victoria Bylin - The Bounty Hunter's Bride

Why, Lord?

It wasn’t like Dani to doubt God’s ways, but she couldn’t stop the anger welling in her middle. These children had already lost their mother. Why had God taken Patrick, too? She stared at the window where a pale reflection of Emma’s face stared back. Tears trickled down the girl’s cheeks, glistening like silver ribbons.

Emma squared her shoulders. “He looked me right in the eye, then he touched my nose like he did when I was little. He said he loved us, then he saw Mama. I know, because he called her name.”

Dani refused to be jealous. Patrick had loved his first wife with a dedication she admired and wanted for herself. He’d called her Beth, short for Elizabeth. They’d been childhood friends. Two years ago, Beth had died of a ruptured appendix.

Dani gripped Emma’s shoulders. “He’s with your ma now. I know for a fact he’s looking out for you right this minute.”

“He loved you, too.” Emma wiped her eyes, then faced Dani. “You said in your letters that you’d be our new mother. Pa’s gone, but—”

“I’m keeping that promise.”

Dani hugged the girl hard. They sobbed together until the river of tears turned to a trickle. Grief would rain on them again, filling the wells, but for now they were spent.

Beau Morgan cleared his throat. “You may not be aware, Miss Baxter. I’m the girls’ legal guardian.”

Dani straightened, then met his gaze. “I’m very aware, Mr. Morgan. Patrick named you as executor several years ago.” Her next words would settle the issue for good or start a battle she couldn’t lose. “I have a letter in my trunk. It clearly states his more recent intentions.”

“And what were those?”

“He asked me to adopt the girls.”

“Contingent on marriage?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Morgan raised one thick brow. “And the farm? Would he want you to have that, too?”

Dani hadn’t thought that far. “I suppose.” She needed a way to support the children.

Beau Morgan rocked back on his heels. “Miss Baxter, you’re either naive or a con artist.”

Dani’s mouth gaped. “How dare you!”

“No, how dare you.” His voice stayed as flat as a coin. “I’m a blood relative with legal authority. You waltz in here and announce you want my nieces and a farm that’s worth a good amount of money.”

“I don’t care about the money!”

“Of course, you don’t.” His lips curled with contempt.

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter what you want. I have an obligation to see to my nieces and I intend to meet it.”

Staring into the man’s eyes, a green that reminded her of dying grass, Dani saw good reason to trust Patrick’s assessment of him as crazy. She judged him to be in his midthirties, a few years older than his brother, but far less settled. Judging by the ragged ends of his hair, he’d cut it himself with a knife. The dark blond strands brushed his collarless shirt like a worn-out broom. Dani’s eyes skimmed across the denim that had once been green or blue. She couldn’t tell which. The sun had bleached it to turquoise, a soft color that blended with the dust on his brown trousers and the unraveling yarn of his gray sock.

If he couldn’t take care of himself, how could he manage three young girls? Maybe he didn’t want to…Perhaps he was eager to turn over guardianship and needed assurance of her honorable intentions. A woman could beat a mule with a stick or coax it with a carrot. Dani opted for the carrot. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Morgan. In fact, I admire it.”

“Good.”

“Once you see Patrick’s letter, I’m sure you’ll agree with me.”

“Don’t count on it, Miss Baxter. The world’s full of liars. How do I know you’re not one of them?”

Emma thrust herself between them. “Pa loved Dani!”

The man looked Dani up and down, assessing her appearance without really seeing her. Before leaving the train, she’d put on her prettiest outfit, a pink taffeta suit with a snug jacket and ruffled skirt, and a sweeping straw hat that dipped across her brow. The outfit made her feel pretty. She’d dressed for Patrick, not this rude man with holes in his socks.

His eyes darted back to her face. “Men are fools, Miss Baxter. Especially lonely ones. Patrick fit that mold.”

Dani had never felt so insulted in her life, or so alone. Back home, her reputation had shone like gold. No one would have questioned her motives for taking in three orphaned girls. Then again, no one in Walker County, Wisconsin had Beau Morgan’s suspicious nature. Dani couldn’t help but wonder who’d kicked him in the shins.

His eyes focused on hers. “A train leaves for Denver in the morning. I want you on it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll pay your fare home.”

Dani had fifteen dollars in her reticule, enough for a week in a hotel but not much else. Her brother would send money if she asked, but she refused to consider it. She’d made a promise to Patrick and intended to keep it, but she’d also left Wisconsin for a reason. When their father died, her brother had inherited the family dairy. A year ago, he’d married. Ever since, he’d been pushing Dani to leave. This isn’t your house, Dani. It’s mine and Marta is my wife. You need a home of your own.

Dani thought so, too. Some time ago, she’d been engaged to a young man named Tommy Page. They’d been childhood friends, but Dani hadn’t felt any of the excitement she’d expected. Tommy had wanted to kiss and hug, but she’d said no. He was a brother to her, nothing more, so she’d ended the engagement. Dani wanted the right husband, the man God had made just for her. She’d been willing to wait, but her brother had lost patience with her. Against her will, he’d encouraged Archie Weldon to court her. A widower with a bad back, Archie had wanted a housekeeper, not a wife. Lars Jenson, a man who spoke in grunts, had been next on her brother’s list. And so on…until Dani had met every bachelor in Walker County.

Eventually she’d given in and agreed to marry Virgil Griggs. She’d liked Virgil, but she hadn’t loved him. A week before the wedding, she’d broken their engagement, embarrassing Virgil and shaming herself. That Dani Baxter is fickle… She’d heard the talk and been embarrassed and angry. She didn’t have a fickle bone in her body. She simply couldn’t lie to herself or to Virgil, who deserved better than a wife who couldn’t bear the thought of kissing him. Dani had been near despair when Kirstin had mentioned her cousin in Colorado, a widower who needed a wife and mother for his three daughters. Dani had given Patrick permission to write. After three letters, she’d fallen in love with him.

Now he was gone and his wayward brother had the girls and wanted Dani to leave. She simply couldn’t do it, not with Patrick’s letter in her trunk. But neither could she stay at the farm with this man. Her best hope lay in convincing him to leave. Dani wasn’t wise in the ways of the world, but she knew a little about men and carrots.

“I have a suggestion, Mr. Morgan.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a nice hotel by the railroad station. I’m sure you’d enjoy a good night’s sleep.”

His eyes flickered. Either he enjoyed a fight or he was tempted by the comforts of a hotel room. Judging by the dark crescents under his eyes, he hadn’t slept in days.

Dani sweetened the deal. “The hotel has a restaurant. I saw it when I rented the buggy. Today’s special is roast beef with raspberry pie for dessert.”

His mouth hardened. “No thanks, Miss Baxter. Emma’s a good cook.”

Dani doubted it. The child had written about her kitchen foibles. Will you teach me to make biscuits? Mine are rock hard, but Pa eats them and smiles.