Linda Ford - The Cowboy's Surprise Bride

She’d had a privileged upbringing. Despite Mr. Edwards’s dubious background, he’d expect his daughter to be treated as aristocracy. Eddie would have to be careful. He wouldn’t give her father a chance to ruin the Gardiner good name.

Cassie didn’t say anything. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep, comforted by the lullaby of the song.

Eddie turned to his side and listened to Linette sing. Even after the voices in the other room had grown quiet, the lyrics played over and over in his head. He fell asleep to the tune.

He woke next morning, started a fire and put the coffee to boil. It had settled in to snow seriously. He wanted to head out and look for his cows, but doing so would be foolhardy in this weather. He had good men, experienced cowboys. They knew enough to circle the cows and keep them from drifting. He didn’t need to be there helping them. Yet it was his responsibility—and his alone—to insure the herd was safe. The future of the ranch depended on it. But he was stuck here, away from the action, doing nothing to protect his investment. Or more accurately, his father’s investment.

Noises from the next room informed him the others were up. He slowly turned from the window and poured a cup of coffee. He’d make sure the guests were safe. Later, he’d head out to the barn. At least he could check on the stock that was there.

The three other occupants of the storm-wrapped cabin stepped into view. Cassie’s expression was enough to stop a train and send the occupants dashing for safety. Grady fussed for no reason. But Linette smiled and hummed. He immediately recognized the tune. It was the same one playing over and over in his head. “‘This is the day that the Lord hath made... Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”’ She seemed intent on enjoying the day. She went immediately to the window. “It’s beautiful. Snow covers everything like piles of whipped cream.”

She turned, and her smile flattened and she frowned. “I’m sorry. This is not what you need, is it?”

“I would have preferred to have the cows closer before this hit.”

She nodded, looked thoughtful a moment longer then turned to the others with a beaming smile. “Cassie, Grady, look. There’s snow everywhere.” She lifted Grady to the window to look out.

He laughed. “I play in it?”

Eddie stared at the boy. It was the first time he’d heard anything but a cry from his lips.

“I don’t think—” Linette looked at Eddie. “It doesn’t look safe out there.”

“Not while it’s coming down so hard.” He lowered his gaze to Grady. “You’ll have to wait for a little while.”

In his excitement over the snow, Grady had forgotten Eddie. Now he clung to Linette’s neck. His lips quivered.

Eddie sighed inwardly. He couldn’t bear the idea of more fussing and crying. “If you don’t cry I’ll take you to see the horses as soon as it’s safe. But only big boys can come.”

Grady swallowed hard and blinked half a dozen times. “I not cry.”

“Good boy. Now climb up to the table and let’s see what Linette can find to feed us.”

Grady edged around Eddie and sat as far away as the small space would allow.

Linette hadn’t moved from the window. She stared at Eddie, her eyes wide.

Had he done something wrong? Did she think he was out of place telling Grady to stop crying? Or—he stifled a groan—had he offended her by calling her by her Christian name? “I’m sorry. I meant Miss Edwards.”

“No, Linette is fine. Much more comfortable.”

Were her words rushed and airy? He jerked his gaze away in self-disgust. Less than twenty-four hours with two women and a child in his little cabin and he was already getting fanciful. He needed the company of some cows and cowboys.

But first, breakfast.

Linette again pulled the bowl of potatoes toward her and turned the slab of bacon over and over.

Eddie grabbed the butcher knife. “I’ll slice us off some pieces. You can fry them up.”

“Thank you.” She avoided meeting his eyes.

“I take it you’ve never seen bacon before.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the term and the format.”

He chuckled. She had a unique way of admitting she didn’t have a clue. “It’s the same as rashers in England.”

Understanding lightened her eyes. “You mean—” She pointed to the chunk of meat and watched with keen interest as he carved off thin slices. “That’s what rashers look like before they’re all crispy?”

He dropped the pieces into the hot fry pan. “They’ll soon be something you recognize.”

She stared at the sizzling pan. A heavy sigh left her lungs. “I told you I wasn’t a good cook, but I assure you I won’t have to be shown twice. In no time at all I’ll be creating culinary delights to warm your heart.”

A man needed a good feed, especially after working out in the cold. “I could continue to take my meals over at the cookhouse.”

Linette’s brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting I can’t manage? I’ll learn. You’ll see. Just give me a chance.” She sucked in air and opened her mouth to start again.

“Okay. Okay.” He held up his palm toward her to stop any further argument. “I’ll see how things go.” Besides, he could well imagine Cookie’s protests if he left the ladies alone and sought his meals with the rest of the crew. No, sir, he didn’t need to get a tongue-lashing from that direction. “Maybe Cookie will help you.”

Her shoulders sank several inches in relief and she let out a noisy gust. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry.”

He kept any contrary opinion to himself, but he’d been nothing but sorry since she’d landed on his ranch. He expected he’d be sorry until the day she left.

As he waited for her to prepare breakfast he went to the window and scratched a peephole in the frost. Slim and Roper hustled toward the cookhouse. They slid their attention toward the cabin, saw him peeking through the foggy glass and nodded as if they only wanted to say good-morning when he knew they burned up with curiosity.

“Um.” Linette sounded mildly worried. “Is it supposed to smoke like this?”

He spun around. The fry pan smoked like a smoldering fire. “It’s too hot. Pull it to the side.”

She reached for it without any protection on her hands.

“Wait. Don’t touch it.”

But her palm touched the hot handle and she jerked back with a gasp.

At that moment the pan caught fire.

Cassie jerked to her feet and pulled Grady after her as she retreated to the far corner, casting desperate looks at the door—their only escape route.

Linette danced about. “What do I do?” She grabbed a towel and flapped it.

“Stop. You’re only making it worse. Get out of the way.” He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed a nearby lid and clamped it over the pan. He snatched the towel from her hands, clutched the hot fry pan and dashed for the door. He jerked it open and tossed the sizzling pan into the snowbank. It melted down a good eight inches.

He tossed the towel to the table and grabbed her wrist. “Let me see that.” He turned her palm upward. The base of her fingers was red and already forming blisters. “Put snow on it.”

She seemed incapable of moving, so he pulled her to the door, grabbed a handful of snow and plastered the burnt area.

“Oh, that feels good.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

She glowered back. “You could have told me this might happen.”

“Told you?” He sputtered and slowed his breathing. “You said you were prepared to be a pioneer housewife. But you can’t even fry bacon.”

“I most certainly can and will.” She marched past him and back to the house, grabbed the hunk of bacon and whacked off pieces, unmindful of the pain the burns surely gave.