Linda Warren - The Texan's Bride

Right now Cadde didn’t want to think about his siblings. Jessie occupied every corner of his mind.

In record time he was in his truck and driving north out of Houston toward Brenham. Maybe he and Jessie could talk and work things out. The knot in his gut eased a little.

Lord knew he didn’t enjoy the marriage any more than she did. The first time he had dinner at the Murdock estate Roscoe had made it very clear that his daughter was off-limits, so he was shocked when Roscoe had brought up the suggestion of them marrying. He’d told the man he would look out for Jessie, but he didn’t see any reason for a legal ceremony. They didn’t love each other. They were barely more than acquaintances.

He’d never paid much attention to Roscoe’s daughter, and he’d thought she’d grown to be an unattractive old maid without much appeal, except her father’s wealth. As for Roscoe—it had been said that he resembled the back end of a horse going the wrong way. The man wasn’t handsome by any means and Cadde had assumed his daughter favored him. He’d been mistaken.

Roscoe was big and barrel-chested with a booming voice that could make babies cry. Jessie was just the opposite; slim, feminine and beautiful with long dark hair and the blackest eyes he’d ever seen. She obviously took after her mother. Roscoe never spoke about his wife and there were no photos of her in the house.

That first night Cadde had dined with the two of them, he looked everywhere but at the gorgeous woman sitting across from him. No way did he want Roscoe to catch him eyeing his daughter. That would put an end to his oil career. He played the part of cool indifference well, and the status quo remained the same every time he visited the Murdock estate.

He’d spent a lot of years working toward one goal—owning his own company. He, Kid and Chance had roughnecked all over Texas. They knew the oil business. He wasn’t jeopardizing that goal by acting stupid. Jessie was his boss’s daughter and in his eyes that meant she was off-limits.

Then, Roscoe being the gambling wildcatter that he was, sweetened the pot.

“How long have I known you, boy?” Roscoe had asked that day in his hospital room.

“A little over ten years.”

Roscoe nodded. “You roughnecked on a wildcatter well. I saw you had potential and I brought you into the office. You’ve been my right hand since then.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve learned from you and I’ll always appreciate the opportunity you gave me.”

“It’s payback time, boy. Don’t you know that?”

“What?” Cadde wasn’t sure where the old man was headed with the conversation.

“I’m not asking you to marry Jessie. I’m telling you.”

That took a moment for Cadde to digest.

“I’ve always been a gambler. You know that. Tomorrow I’m taking the biggest gamble of all…they’ll remove the tumor from my brain. The doctors say I have a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the surgery and I’m willing to take that risk. I’m damn tired of the headaches and losing my eyesight, but I can’t go under the knife until I know Jessie’s future is secure.”

“Sir…”

“Okay, boy,” Roscoe interrupted, not willing to listen to anything he had to say. “I’m gonna make this easy for you. Marry Jessie and I’ll give you half of my shares in Shilah Oil. Jessie gets the other half.”

That sent Cadde’s heart galloping like a wild steed.

“The papers are there on the nightstand. They require your signature to become the CEO of Shilah Oil.” Roscoe took a labored breath. “Sign it, boy, because I’m not giving you any other choice. You’ve got integrity. I’ve known that from the start, and you’ll keep Jessie safe.”

Fear choked the man’s voice. Roscoe’s paranoia was never more evident than it was that day, but Cadde had to ask, “How does your daughter feel about this?”

Jessie walked into the room in a brown pantsuit and heels. Her dark hair was coiled into a knot at her nape. She looked elegant, sophisticated and uptight as any woman could be. The only sign she was nervous was the false smile on her face.

“Here’s my baby,” Roscoe said, and held out his hand.

She grasped it. “Daddy, I’m hardly a baby. What are you doing talking business with Mr. Hardin? You should be resting.”

“I can’t rest until I know your life is secure.”

“Oh, Daddy.”

“I’m serious, Jessie. Marry Cadde.” Roscoe took another tortured breath. “We’ve talked about this and it’s the right thing to do. Cadde knows the oil business and he’ll keep Shilah profitable so you’ll never want for anything. Please, baby.”

Jessie met Cadde’s eyes for the first time and their depths bore right through him. “Has Mr. Hardin agreed to this?”

“Yes,” Roscoe said before Cadde could answer.

She turned back to Roscoe. “Daddy, you do realize I can take care of myself? I’m twenty-nine years old.”

“Don’t argue with me, Jessie. Please let me die in peace. I have to know you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and Cadde felt a sucker punch to his chest. She hugged her father tightly and then straightened. “Okay. I guess I’m getting married.”

They had the ceremony that afternoon by Roscoe’s bedside and Cadde signed the papers that gave him a large interest in Shilah Oil. The next few hours were tense as they waited for news that Roscoe had survived the surgery. He hadn’t. He’d died on the operating table.

Losing Roscoe had been a big blow. He thought the old man could win at anything, but the stakes were too high this time. Pushing aside his grief, he tried to comfort Jessie by offering to take her home. That was a huge mistake. She lit into him like a dog in a chicken coop.

“Contrary to what my father believes, Mr. Hardin, I can take care of myself and deal with Daddy’s death…on my own.”

That’s when the iceberg set in—big-time.

She was stoic at the services. At the grave site, she stumbled and he caught her. She leaned on him for a second before she’d pushed away, thus setting the tone for their eighteen months of marriage.

The reading of the will was an eye-opener. Everything Roscoe owned was equally divided between him and Jessie, except Shilah and the Murdock estate. The house belonged to Jessie, and Roscoe’s shares in the oil company were split twenty-five percent to Cadde and twenty-six percent to Jessie.

Roscoe omitted mentioning that little tidbit, which gave Jessie the upper hand. She used it every time she could—like today. Roscoe’s cronies, who owned the remaining percentage of shares and sat on the board, always voted her way.

He never understood why Roscoe had done that. Jessie didn’t know anything about the oil business, yet she was the one calling the shots—not him. That irritated the hell out of him on a good day. On a bad day he cursed a lot. If Shilah Oil was going to succeed, he had to find a way to reach Jessie.

Cadde sped down the paved road leading to the Murdock estate. Climbing Mount Olympus might be easier than reaching Jessie. And definitely less painful. But today he was angry and he was having his say. She wasn’t giving him the cold shoulder and walking out of the room as she usually did. If he had to tie her to a chair, they were discussing their farce of a marriage, and most definitely her sabotage of Shilah Oil.

He drove up to the double wrought-iron gates leading to the house. As he touched a button on his windshield visor, the gates swung open. An eight-foot steel fence surrounded the entire property and was held in place with brick cornerstones every twelve feet. Razor wire curled across the top. The entire structure was linked to a state-of-the-art security system. To say Roscoe was paranoid about Jessie’s safety was putting it mildly. But Cadde knew he had good reasons.